with her hand. “Read the whole thing.”
“Fine,” I murmured as I continued with the article. “Hunter Perry, quarterback for the NFL’s Green Knights, might be quick on his feet on the field, but he has two left feet when it comes to dancing. You might be asking yourself why Hunter Perry is even dancing in the first place, and while my best guess is that he’s doing this in some misguided attempt to make himself look better after his problematic laugh went viral—” I stopped in the middle of the sentence as I looked over at Elana. “Elana, you know this is like… a hit piece, right?”
“Keep going.” She motioned again.
“Okay… okay, well now it’s talking about me,” I scrolled further down the article. “It’s just talking about my time with my dance company, saying I’m the best dancer they’ve had in years…” My eyes went wide for a second time, when I noticed the photo that sat near the very end of the article.
Fuck.
It was a picture of Hunter and I having dinner at Madame Gigi’s.
“The real question that should be on everybody’s mind is how did Hunter Perry, official asshole of the Green Knights, manage to snag someone as out of his league as Patrick McEntire…” I mumbled through the phrase. “This relationship seems to have heated up in the dance studio, and I can’t wait to see where it goes. Although, with Hunter’s history, he’ll probably fumble it, just like he did with that moment in the locker room.”
“See? What did I tell you?” Elana beamed. “Fuck. She made you sound like the best thing since sliced bread. That has to be good press for your dance company, too, right?”
“But Hunter—” I started my sentence but didn’t know where to go with it.
Shit.
Was Hunter out to Elana? Was he out to anyone?
“Hunter… wouldn’t want this…” I tried to modify my words with just enough vagueness, wanting to see if Elana was going to confirm or deny her knowledge of Hunter’s sexuality.
“Oh. No. Hunter would hate this.” She chuckled. “But come on. Shifting the focus from Hunter’s bad moment with the cameras to getting a rumor started about his sexuality?” Elana sighed with relief. “We can fix gay rumors a lot easier than we can fix rumors about him being sexist or misogynistic. Plus, no one’s going to believe the rumor about you and him dating, anyway.”
“Why not?”
“Because Hunter’s aggressively straight.” Elana chuckled again. “And even if he wasn’t, there’s no way he’d be your type.”
“Because my type is…?” I dragged out my response as I raised an eyebrow.
“Quick.” Elana smirked. “And easy. You’re not big on complicated relationships.”
“Hunter doesn’t seem that complicated to me.”
“Yeah, no, dating an NFL star is beyond complicated,” Elana replied. “You’ve got to deal with the press, not to mention the fans. And God forbid the team loses when you two first start dating, or else people will brand you as a bad luck charm for the rest of your relationship. You’ll probably even get some mail with fans asking you, nicely or not-so-nicely, to break up with the player for the sake of the team.”
“That sounds—”
“Psychotic?” Elana suggested. “Yeah, well, it’s that kind of passion that keeps people’s asses in the seats. I don’t mind it, but I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Which means, I’d never wish it on you.” Elana let out another sigh. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go figure out if I can get a lawsuit started for defamation of character, just something to keep the pot stirring with Esther’s blog. I don’t think it’ll work for a case about Hunter’s sexuality, but you never know, maybe I’ll get lucky.”
Elana offered me a wink before she turned to leave the studio.
And I stood there, confused by the myriad of emotions that were running through my system.
I should’ve been elated about the positive press coverage, happy to show the dance company that I was useful when it came to keeping the spotlight focused on me.
But I couldn’t shake how annoyed I was.
I was annoyed at my body, for feeling like it was on the verge of giving out, my home workout and earlier dance class finally catching up with me.
I was annoyed at Elana, for the flippant way she dismissed the mere possibility that Hunter could’ve been gay, and that I could’ve been interested in him.
And I was annoyed at myself for the small part of me that quietly yearned to be the kind