Football and Ballet - Jason Collins Page 0,44

rest of your hotdog. It’s really good,” Hunter said, filling the quietness between us.

I offered him another smile, just as fake as the first, before I took a measured bite out of my lunch.

“The Perfect Match! Hunter Perry and Dakota Webster Snag Dual Endorsement Deal!”

“Sneakers For Him, Ballet Shoes For Her: Why This Celeb Couple Is Perfectly Matched”

“Hunter x Dakota Shoe Deal Collaboration Announcement Breaks The Internet”

“What are you looking at?” Hunter asked as he walked up beside me at the dance studio. “And are we done for the day? Or did you want me to do another round of barre work?”

I couldn’t speak because I couldn’t find the right words to say to him. I didn’t know how to explain to Hunter that it felt like my brain was on fire, seeing the press release photos of Dakota’s apparent future line of ballet shoes, a style of dance I didn’t know she even participated in.

Finally finding a worthwhile phrase, I held up my phone toward Hunter’s face. “What the hell is this?”

“Oh. Right. That.” Hunter waved a hand between us. “Just another endorsement deal.”

“You didn’t think to tell me about this?”

“Why would I?” Hunter grinned. “I never thought you were that interested in my endorsement stuff, anyway.”

“Well, I’m interested in this one,” I replied. “How did this—when did this even happen?”

“A shoe company approached Dakota about the collaboration,” Hunter answered. “They originally just wanted her for their new ballet line, but after she announced our relationship, they offered me a part of the deal, too.”

“And now you’re what? Ambassadors for a shoe company?”

“Pretty much.” Hunter nodded. “We’re supposed to star in their national ad campaign for the shoes, too. And Elana said she’s working on making sure at least one of our ads goes viral—”

“How long is the ad campaign supposed to last?”

“I think for the next six months? Just until people start associating our faces with the brand, and then, ironically, they want us to back off the ad team.”

“Six months.” My voice cracked as I spoke. “You have to keep pretending to be together for at least six more months?”

“I think that’s how the contract with the company works, yeah.”

“Hunter…” My voice cracked again, tears beginning to spring to my eyes.

“Patrick, what’s wrong?” There was a look of concern etched onto Hunter’s face. “Shit. Was it something I said?”

I managed to choke down my tears before they had a chance to fall down my cheeks. “How long are you supposed to keep seeing her, Hunter? If you’re only dating for PR, when are you two supposed to have your big breakup?”

“Why would we need to have a big breakup?”

“Because you’re not really together!” I let out a pained laugh. “Because this whole thing was supposed to be a publicity stunt, but now, you’re signing contracts like you’re going to be together for the rest of your lives.”

“The next six months isn’t really the rest of our lives—”

“But it might as well be,” I argued. “I already told you, Hunter. The more you invest in your fake relationship, the more it becomes real. And before you know it, you’re going to end up married to Dakota, with 2.5 kids and a white picket fence, and you’ll still be trying to convince yourself that it’s just for PR—”

My words were cut short by Hunter’s mouth pressing against my own, his kiss as hot as flames. As his lips met mine, he pushed me until my back was pressed against the barre, his chest against my frame in a tight hold.

“Hunter, what are you doing?” I murmured as I looked up at him. “What if someone sees?”

“If someone sees, I hope they enjoy the show,” Hunter replied with a smile before he brought his lips down to mine, once again capturing them in a fevered kiss.

I groaned at the motion, soon pressing my tongue against his own, as my fingers rested on his back. I couldn’t deny that there was something hot about Hunter right now, the way he was shamelessly kissing me in the studio, the way his hands were sliding up the sides of my t-shirt.

“Hunter…” I moaned his name as his fingers rubbed along my nipples, exploring the sensitive nubs with his digits. “Fuck. That feels so good…”

“Good.” Hunter smiled. “I like making you feel good, Patrick.”

Almost as soon as he was finished speaking, Hunter turned me around to face the barre. He then grabbed for my hands before he brought his palms down to my wrists,