Page 114 of Studs Up
“I don’t know yet, but you aren’t alone anymore.”
I dropped my head to his shoulder.
“I don’t deserve you,” I said.
He chuckled. “I think there’s a larger part of the population that would think I don’t deserve you.”
“They would be very, very wrong.”
“Holden.”
He tucked his fingers under my chin and lifted me up.
“We’ll figure this out.” I believed him. That light at the end of the tunnel got a little brighter. He was on my side, and maybe that was the key.
We stood there like teens, making out until the very last second. And then he was gone.
I needed a shower, and made my way to the bathroom and stopped.
The list had been unfolded on the nightstand, and a new step had been added.
Step three: Nolan is my fortress.
That man had no fucking business holding my heart the way he did. I had no idea how I could get out of this with my career intact and Nolan by my side. It seemed impossible. But if anyone could figure it out, it would be him.
…
Alex’s cold shoulder hurt more than he intended it to.
For three days, he refused to talk to me. I didn’t push. I wanted my friend, but I couldn’t force him to talk to me. He was relatively normal at training, but his anger was noticeable enough that Charlemagne asked me if Alex was okay.
Finally, I found a note taped to my cubby after practice. ‘Waterfront. Six’. Alex was finally ready to talk.
Paved walkways stretched along the river with grassy lawns and cherry trees. Though this late in the year the pink buds were long gone and replaced by glorious red and orange leaves.
A neutral place to hash this out. I didn’t think I could handle it if Alex turned against me.
I thought about telling him everything. I went back and forth with Nolan about it several times, and he, shockingly, thought I should tell Alex. I asked if he was sick, and he told me to fuck off.
In the end, I didn’t want to tell him. I didn’t want this burden, this fear, to become a part of his reality. I was already dragging Nolan down with me. I couldn’t bring Alex with us.
He knew the risk to his career, but he could also have discreet sex if he wanted to. He never kept anyone around long, a few nights, maybe.
“You lied to me,” he greeted from a bench as I approached. The waterfront ran through the heart of the city. It was usually beautiful, but everything seemed dark and dreary to me.
I dropped down beside him.
“I didn’t tell you,” I said.
“Lie by omission.”
“What makes you think you’re entitled to every detail of my personal life?”
“That’s a pretty big fucking detail. You’ve been in a relationship with someone for ten months and not said a fucking peep to me. I’m your fucking friend.” He was livid, and I wasn’t in a pleasant mood either.
“And it’s Nolan Fucking Reed,” he hissed. “You’ve been what? Pretending to hate him the whole fucking time?”
“No,” I said. “Professionally, nothing has changed.”
