Football and Ballet - Jason Collins Page 0,18
shook my head. “What the hell are you talking about, Hunter? Aren’t you straight?”
“That’s just another part of the PR machine,” he replied with a deep sigh.
“Okay, but how does that explain all the dates you’ve been on with women? I’ve seen the paparazzi photos, and some of them looked like you didn’t even know they were there.” I was suspicious of his response. “Are you telling me you’ve just been playing straight for years?”
“I do what I have to do,” Hunter answered. “And if that means I need to go out with a girl or two for the cameras, that’s what I do. But we never do anything more than you see in the photos. I never take them home.”
“Do they know that you’re…?”
“They don’t,” he insisted. “Most of them just think I’m playing hard to get, while the others think I’m abstaining from sex for some athletic reason. You know, so I’ll play better, be more focused.”
“And you never go out with guys?”
“I go out with guys,” he explained. “But not in the same way. We’re usually discreet, and we usually keep it pretty quick, too.”
“So, what you’re saying is that you sleep with guys on the side, but you always make sure there’s a girl on your arm for the photo-ops?”
“Pretty much, yeah.” A guilty look crossed over Hunter’s face. “Does that make you hate me?”
“Why would I hate you, Hunter?”
“Because I’m a fraud.” He let out a laugh that seemed like it was filled with hurt. “Because everything about me is just smoke and mirrors, just photo-ops and PR.”
“Not everything,” I said as I offered him a light smile. “That kiss was pretty real, I think.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Why would I be mad at that?” I tried to play the moment off with a grin. “You’re not a bad looking guy, Hunter Perry.”
“Can I… have dinner at your place tonight?” Hunter asked, and his question reminded me so much of his earlier kiss, as if he were seeking something without being certain it was even there.
“Oh. I don’t know about that.” I motioned with my hand. “Not because I don’t want you to come over, but because I’m in training mode. Honestly, I don’t even think I’ll be having dinner tonight—”
“We don’t have to have dinner…,” Hunter’s words trailed off, “…just because I come over for dinner.”
Oh.
Oh.
I tried to keep the surprise off my face as I mumbled through my reply. “Uh… I don’t know about that, Hunter. I mean, don’t get me wrong. If I were on tour and you were someone I met in a crowded bar, I’d definitely consider it. But you’re one of my students now, which means after we sleep together, I’m still going to see you—”
“And that’s your rule or something? After you sleep with someone you never want to see them again?”
“Isn’t that your rule, too?” I quirked an eyebrow. “Just saying. That felt a little pot calling the kettle black.”
“How about this? You let me come over for dinner, just this once, and we never have to talk about it, ever again.”
“You promise?”
“Yeah, I promise I’ll never bring it up ever again.” Hunter smirked. “Not even if it’s the most amazing sex you’ve ever had in your life.”
“You seem a little confused about how this night is going to go.”
“So, you’re saying the night is going to go?”
I looked back at Hunter as every reason for why I shouldn’t let him come home with me tonight played in the back of my head.
It was a bad idea.
It was an awful idea.
It was one of the most terrible ideas I’d ever been pitched.
And yet, I shot a playful smile back in Hunter’s direction as I said, “Yeah. Tonight’s going to go.”
7
Hunter
“This place is… wow,” I muttered as I glanced around Patrick’s apartment. His place was impeccable, not a single piece of furniture with any visible scratches or wear-and-tear, and none of the art on his walls leaning even half an inch to the left or the right.
Honestly, Patrick’s apartment appeared to be curated, right down to the gray rug that ran across his marbled living room floor. There was also the matter of the over-sized TV on the far wall, even though its remote was on the table underneath and not anywhere near the couch, which hinted to me that Patrick wasn’t much of a TV-watcher.
Although, I could’ve guessed he wasn’t too much into TV from the busy schedule he kept. TV was one of the first luxuries I’d sacrificed,