Page 182 of Scoring the Player
The ping of an alert stirs me awake. I must have turned at some point in the night because Blue’s no longer in my arms. He’s there, curled against my back. I shuffle forward to create space, turn, and slip my arm across his chest, then pull him closer.
I think it’s morning, but his curtains are blacked out, so I can’t tell. I reach behind me and pluck up my phone, and my fingers scrape over paper.
I angle my head, hoping to get a peek at more of his lyrics. Instead, I see the envelope I had delivered with the cake.
He kept it.
I would have too, but you never know with him.
I turn and kiss the side of his head before I click on my screen and catch the time.7:47 a.m. Damn. I have to head back sooner than I thought. I click on Cillian’s text.
Cillian
You gud, bro?
Me
Yeah. Why?
I’m about to toss my phone back when three dots appear.
Huh. It’s early for him. Wait, no, he’s three hours ahead.
Cillian
Cool. Know y’all aren’t exclusive. Just checking.
Me
?
My stomach churns as three dots jump around.
Then a link pops up. My finger hovers over it.
I stare down at Blue, then back at the headline “Arnaz Cade’s Secret Affair with Assistant Coach.”
Bullshit.
A photo of Blue appears. He’s in the same clothes as last night, and he’s huddled close to a man I immediately recognize as his college coach, who spoke out in support of Blue when he came out. I scroll down and double back on Blue’sapparentquotes.
“Still single?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were gay?”
Calling bullshit, I’m about to exit when voices blare from the screen. I scroll down, then back up again until I find the video.
He stirs as I fight through ads to try to hit pause. My hand hovers as the ads end, and Blue’s there trading an easy grin with his coach, who blushes and shifts closer—too close.
“Said wake me with your dick,” Blue groans. “Not your phone.”
I lock my phone and rub my hand over my mouth.He was with me last night, I say to myself, despite the unease in my gut.
It just looks bad because they’re standing so close.
Whyarethey standing so close?
“Lube. Condom,” he mutters.
