Page 52 of Tyler
I just shake my head and grin. Of fuckingcoursehe would. Christ. If Rafa ever finds out Jace is my man, he’ll have a fucking coronary. My three friends glance at me with matching smirks, probably thinking the same thing.
“Yeah, I agree there. He’s an excellent kisser, so I guess he would be good in the sack,” Tuck muses, way too fucking casual, giving me a shit-eating grin and a quick wink.
Rafa’s mouth drops while I glare at my smugformerfriend, my other two roomies snickering in the background. Almost forgot about that fucking kiss. Almost.
“Wait,what? You kissed Jace?”
“Sure did,” Tuck says, leaning back with a smug little shrug. “Right before he ghosted me for a tall dude with an attitude problem.”
My glare intensifies. If he keeps pushing this, I can show him an attitude problem alright…
“No fucking way. How was it? Do you think he’s as good in bed as he is on stage? Dude’s sex on legs, man.”
Oh, I fucking know. But I keep my mouth shut and let Tuck have his fun as they blabber on about howawesomeJace is.
I fucking knowthat, too, but am keeping out of this.
We’re notcompletelyout, for our careers’ sake, and we both intend to keep it like that for now. And honestly, it still blows my mind that no one on our fifty-man roster last year blabbed about us. The guys in this house, they’re my closest friends, and I know they would never spill the beans. But our team? Our very large,verygossipy team? It’s hard to believe none of them outed us to the media or something. I guess they got my back on and off the field.
“Yo,” Lamar suddenly pipes up, completely derailing the conversation and pulling me back from my growing intent to throttle Tuck. “Speaking of very sexy awesome men in tight clothes—I got this year’s team photos back.”
I raise a brow again at his offhand remark. Yeah, Ireallyneed to talk to him about some things. He scrolls through his phone like a man on a mission and grins when he finds what he’s looking for.
“Boom. This year’s shoot. Look at our pretty perfect quarterback.”
He shoves his phone at me, and I huff when I see myself on the screen, arms crossed, jaw tight, way too puffed up. They didn’t let us smile, wanted everything all serious and intense, and I hate being center stage like that. It’s probably a decent pic, still,not my thing. I shove the phone back at him and scrunch up my nose.
Lamar snaps his big head up at me, dark eyes sparkling with that dangerous I-have-an-idea glint that pops up way too often. “Yup. I know exactly what to do with this one,” he says, already scrolling through his camera roll again.
I huff at the remark, shaking my head. I… don’t evenwantto know what he’s planned this time.
Thank fuck I’m distracted when my phone buzzes with a notification. Encore posted a new pic. I immediately start reading through the comments pouring in at record speed, zoning out from the chatter of the guys and focus on every scrap of information I can find about my man.
I don’t really know why I do it. Well. That’s a lie. I know exactly why.
I followed him on socials over the summer; of course I did, I’m invested in him and I want him to be okay. But scrolling through all the comments? Reading what people say about him? I’ve been doing this ever since I left the bus. Ever since I saw the letter Jodie didn’t let me read. The letter that she had to forward to the damn security team.
It just doesn’t sit well with me. I know I can’t do fucking much while we’re states apart, but he’s mine. Mine to cherish, to protect, to keep safe. And if I can help even just a little? I will. Of course I will. I’d do anything for him.
And sure enough, it doesn’t take long for me to find the dirt. Buried between heart emojis, fans calling him their soulmate, proposals of marriage and… offers that belong in someone’s OnlyFans inbox, there it is. One of those damn troll accounts.
The ones that hate the band. Hate him. And by hate, I mean despise him.
The username is gibberish; it usually is untraceable to actual persons, but the caption makes my fucking skin crawl.
He ruined everything. I’ll make him pay. Fucking fraud.
I screenshot it and send it to the person I’ve been texting for weeks now whenever I find shit like this.
Me:Got another one. Insta account, same pattern as the others. Just posted.
It takes only seconds for the reply.
Ava:Thanks, bub. I’ll look into it and forward it to Jodie. But like I’ve said before, and I’ll keep saying it: ignore it. Stay off socials. Just focus on your man.
Me:I know. I just need to know he’s okay.
Ava:I know. And I get that you’re worried. But we’ve got eyes on this 24/7. Please trust the team to do their job.
