Page 82 of These Wicked Games
“Will you shut the fuck up,” Grey hisses.
“Andre, I need you to call Coach, tell him I’m with you guys now and we will be down sometime late morning.” Andre’s panicked eyes meet mine before looking back to Jessica. “You can text if you want, sweetie.”
“Again with the sweetie.”
Gray slaps Atlas’s shoulder. “Shut. Up.”
Atlas pouts, rubbing his shoulder. “And what do you need me to do?”
“I need you to close your fucking mouth for the next thirty minutes.” She smiles sweetly at him.
“Close my mouth right around your—ow!” The speed in which Jess is off the stool and twisting Atlas’s nipple needs to be studied. It really should not be surprising, she’s played hockey all her life. Those reflexes are crazy. “Let go,” he croaks.
“I’m going to make myself really clear. If even one sexually demeaning word comes out of your lips, I will remove your penis through your eye socket. Understood?”
“Yes,” he wheezes, collapsing on the floor as she lets go. To avoid my own body parts from leaving my body—which would a real shame since Andre loves to put his tongue on them—I make her an iced coffee like the good boy I am.
Footsteps sound, and I see Andre coming back into the room. “Coach said okay.”
“Just okay?”
“A very watered-down recount of the messages I received. Yes.”
Jess thanks me as I slide an iced coffee to her, and Grey appears with my laptop, setting it down in front of her. Atlas is still nursing his nipple and glaring at all of us. “Okay.” She tries on a reassuring smile, but she looks tired. Jessica never looks tired. “I want you to tell me how long this has been going on for.”
Andre looks at me, and whatever he needs right now I will give him. “Uh, we uh, we started hooking up after the Orcas game.”
“The game you were both suspended on! Months, and you didn’t tell me?” Atlas shouts. “Was all the fighting just foreplay?”
“Atlas, shut up,” Jessica hisses, rubbing her temples. “Two months ago.” Her blue eyes set me on fire. “Oli.” She shakes her head. “And when did this turn into a relationship?”
“Oh, we’re not . . .” Andre looks away from me. “I mean, I don’t know what. . .”
“We’re not in a relationship,” Andre says softly. “It’s just physical.”
A pit forms in my stomach. That’s not right, though, is it? That doesn’t feel right at all. He’s never brought up wanting more, and I’m not sure I even want to be in a relationship.
Still, just a hookup doesn’t feel right. “We’ve been together for a bit now,” I correct him and wait for him to deny it. Instead,surprise crawls onto his face. “I’m not sure when it became more but . . . it’s more.” I’m sure of it. More sure of this than I’ve ever been.
I look at Andre. Those soft eyes meet mine and I offer him a small smile. “So . . .” She types on her laptop. “You two are together?”
I look at Andre. I don’t want to answer for him but I can’t say it’s less. I just can’t. Everything we’ve shared over the last month is way more than I’d expected. I wait for him to understand that it’s his turn. Finally the light comes on and it’s like coming home. “Uh, yeah.” He looks at Jess. “We’re together.”
Light explodes in my chest. I know we’re in deep shit but I can’t help fucking beaming. “Touching,” she says, deadpan, still typing away. “Okay, well, this is how this is going to go.” She closes the laptop. “I’ve emailed our lawyers to contact those sites to take down all the articles they can. As far as the media is concerned, I’m going to talk to Coach and see how he wants to handle it. I have my own ideas, but I want to see what he wants for the team. I also need to meet with Melanie because I’m sure she’s screaming into the void right now.”
“Are we going to get fired?” Andre asks, and it has crossed my mind. While the world is becoming more progressive, the world of sports still has a long way to go. Of course there are queer players, but I’m not going to kid myself. Shit is about to get real hard, and most likely invasive.
The thing is, I realize . . . none of that really matters. “I’m going to do everything I can to make this right. By all of us. I’m on your side. Both of you. What that photographer did is disgusting. Taking sports out of it, your privacy was violated and you wereforced out when neither of you should have been.” She takes a sip of her coffee, groaning. “There’s nothing that iced coffee can’t fix.” She closes her eyes a moment. “And I’m going to personally sue the fucking fuck out of whoever took those pictures.”
“How will you find who did it?”
She smirks, and fuck me, that is some scary-ass shit. “I have my ways.”
“How worried should we be?” A situation like this has never happened. It would be one thing if I’d been caught with a random guy, it’s another that it’s Andre—another teammate. This has never happened, at least not publicly.
Jess offers me a genuine smile. “Oli, I am on your side . . . and Andre’s. You guys are not just clients to me, I genuinely care for you both, and if I take the publicity aspect out of it, I am very happy for both of you. However, this is a business, and from the business side of things, I’m not sure. I know how I want to spin this, but I want to speak to Coach first. Everything kind of weighs on his reaction and thoughts.” She looks us all over. “Anyone else have anything they want to confess before we head down to the arena?”
We all look at Grey. He holds his hands up. “She’s not my agent! I don’t have to say shit.” None of us were about to out Grey. That’s his business, just as Andre’s and my relationship should be ours. Unfortunately, that’s not how our world works.
