Page 65 of Girl Going Nowhere

My reply is instant. “He wouldn’t. I haven’t done anything he could use against me anyway.”

“No?” he doubts. “What if he wanted to take a stance on a hot topic?”

“And which topic would that be?”

The man across from me deadpans, “You know which one. If he wanted to let the world know he’s an ally, who do you think he would out to prove it?”

My nostrils flare, remembering what I said to Rafael in the car. I didn’t tell him I was gay, bisexual, or straight. But it seems pretty evident he’s got his own assumptions about me that he’s made on his own.

Labels can be dangerous.

Why can’t we simply be human?

“He wouldn’t do that,” I repeat.

Finn doesn’t seem as sure. “I hope that’s the truth for your sake, man. But you’ve been lying to yourself about a hell of a lot more than that. So be careful.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Before he can walk out the door, I stop him by slamming my palm against the wood to close it. “You have no right to tell me that.”

“Why?” he challenges, turning to me with crossed arms.

I meet his hard eyes, the slim distance between us dangerous. “Because you’re no different than I am. Look where you are. You came the second I called. Drove three hours at night in the pouring rain. What does that say?”

When he doesn’t answer, I know I’ve got him.

It’s not just me in this position.

He could have said something by now to anybody, but he hasn’t. It’s not for my benefit, it’s for his too.

Instead of answering, he says, “If you want a ride home, meet me outside in ten minutes. I’m leaving without you if you’re not there. You can take the train home.”

That tells me all I need to hear.

He’ll wait for you.

“Fine.”

This time, I let him walk out.

When I grab my phone, the same number that left me voicemails is calling again. “What?” is how I greet the unknown caller.

There’s a pause, then a sigh. “You’re just like your brother, aren’t you? You’d think one of you would have manners, but I suppose you didn’t exactly have a stellar role model.”

I don’t recognize the feminine voice on the other end. “And who the hell are you to say that to me?”

“It’s Vanessa Ray. Rafael’s agent.”

Offuckingcourse. “I’m still waiting to hear why you’re wasting my time right now. You’re not my agent. We have no business.”

“Rafaelismy business,” she counters firmly, in the same tone I’ve heard her speak to him. “And I need to ensure his place with the Phillies is secure. Which means whatever high ground you’re pissed off that he didn’t take needs to be forgiven. It was my choice to do what we did, not his.”

“He went through with it.”

“Yes, well, he wasn’t very pleased about it,” she says simply. “Anyway, I need you to sign some paperwork.”

Is she fucking kidding me? “I’m not signing an NDA or any other bullshit. I’m already blowing up my friendships for him despite my better judgment.”

She’s quiet, so I have no idea if she’ll let it be. I guess I’m not shocked when she doesn’t. “It’s my job to keep people quiet about things to protect my client. Rafael is—”

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