Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Aron: Is this your way of getting me to back off? I told you I was okay with going back to being casual.
Noah: I can’t talk right now. I’m on a ship in the middle of the Atlantic. With Matt. My boyfriend. The casual thing wasn’t working, and we both know it. I’ve moved on and so should you.
I hold my breath until the green light around Aron’s name disappears. Before I log off, I open up a new chat window with our friend Wyatt. He’s probably the most nurturing of the guys in our group. Actually, he’d be more nurturing than our friends Skylar and Rebecca too. Those girls can be ruthless, and they’re going to have my balls when they find out I screwed Aron over.
Noah: Can you check on Aron in a few days? Take him out. He needs to get laid.
The response comes immediately.
Wyatt: Have fun with your football player while it lasts. Try not to shit all over his heart too.
Along with his nurturing nature, Wyatt also has a flair for the dramatic, and it figures he’d take Aron’s side. He should. He’s not saying anything I don’t already know, but it sits wrong in my gut. If I didn’t have the NDA, I’d reassure Wyatt that no hearts were on the line when it came to Matt and me. He’s surly and I’m … I don’t know exactly what his problem is with me, but it’s obvious he has one.
One night down. Countless more to go.
Chapter Five
Matt
When I arrive at our room in the afternoon, Noah’s on the balcony. He sits with his feet up on the railing which looks too high to be comfortable, but he looks good doing it.
He lifts his hand and swigs a sip of his beer. His fifth by the look of the empties on the small round table out there.
Wouldn’t be the first man I’ve driven to the bottle. Right, Dad?
My father always blamed us kids for his urge to drink. I wonder if he’s been sober at all since I was outed. I want to call my siblings and ask how everything is back home since my secret went public, but I don’t have their numbers anymore. My parents have gone to extreme lengths to keep me from my brothers and sisters. I’m blocked on all social media, and when I try to reach their cell phones, I’m told the number I’m trying no longer exists.
“I can feel you staring at me,” Noah calls out and then stands.
I grab my own beer out of the minibar as he joins me in the cabin.
“Bit early in the afternoon to be drinking, isn’t it?” I ask.
Noah raises a dark eyebrow at me and pierces me with his aqua eyes. They’re more blue than green reflecting off the ocean. Why the fuck am I thinking about the color of his eyes?
“Says the guy holding a beer.” He takes another gulp.
“Misery loves company, and apparently I’m doing a great job of bringing you down with me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. This”—Noah lifts his bottle—“has nothing to do with you.”
“Did your obnoxious attitude annoy one of the staff and they pissed in your lunch?”
He snorts. “Hey, I’m a lovable guy. You just don’t see it.”
No, I could see it. I could see how his laid-back attitude, sense of humor, and all-round arrogant charm could suck someone in, but I’m not here for that.
“Uh, Damon finally gave me our schedule.” I reach into my pocket and give Noah the folded sheet of paper.
“Get to know each other,” Noah says and then laughs. “Without killing each other. Good luck with that one, am I right?”
“It’s a tall order.”
“Wait, full spread magazine shoot and interview with Out and Proud Magazine when we get to Bermuda?”
I take a large sip of beer. “Yup.”
“Are you going to have a panic attack again?”
“Not gonna lie, there’s a good chance.”
“Just think, any time you start to panic, my lips will be there for you. It says here, it’s a joint interview.”
When I groan, Noah laughs. “You like seeing me squirm, don’t you?” I ask.
“It’s so easy.” Noah stares at the sheet of paper. “After that, it looks like you go home to PA for a few weeks until a charity benefit thing for … really? LGBTQ Alliance Ball? They’re really shoving the gay thing down people’s throats, huh?”
I choke on my beer. “Thank you. That’s what I’ve been trying to say.”
“They need to see us doing normal shit too. Maybe we can talk to them about having a day where we get papped grocery shopping. Being with me wouldn’t be all fancy cruises and benefits.”
“Isn’t that all you do?” I ask. “Rich trust fund guy, no job—”
“I have a job. I just never go to it. They don’t pay me, so why should I go?”