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Chapter twenty-nine
“Who’s the hottie?”
The DM is from a client. It’s on Overture’s Instagram account. And I’m not usually the one that checks those messages. But I recognize the account. It’s a client. A semi-regular who has messaged me before, who has shown an interest in me away from the club. And not someone I would have thought to be a fan of Nandy’s music.
Social media is buzzing about Nandy’s concert, as well it should be. I’ve been looking at photos for a while now. Nandy on stage, smiling, laughing. He always smiles and laughs on stage. The man knows how to put on a show. Last night, though, that wasn’t a show. That was pure Nandy. And it was more glorious than the Nandy most everyone has come to know over the decade that he has been performing. And that version of Nandy is worthy of the global superstar status he has earned. But last night, that was my Nandy. That was the kid who sat next to me in school and smiled at me when he picked up a violin and played.
The kid whose smile made my heart race even back then. And when he played. When he picked up that instrument and played…it was heaven. He was special. Even then, we all knew it.
I glance at some other photos on social media as I prep coffee. It takes a second for the accompanying photo from my client to pop into the message so that I can even make sense of the question. Of course, the hottie is TJ. No news there to me. But what is news is the particular photo that seems to be the photo of choice on all of social media is of the three of us. Again, no surprise there.
But the person TJ has his arm slung around. The waist he is tugging toward him. The ear he appears to be whispering into — is mine. I don’t recall this moment. It clearly happened. There is photographic proof. It was a celebratory evening. There were plenty of hugs and kisses and back slaps to go around. But someone captured this moment and sent it forth into the world to do with it as it wanted. And the world wants to put me and TJ together.
“Has hockey’s biggest playboy switched teams?”
Fynn Archer, co-owner of Overture, spotted getting cozy with hockey superstar TJ Marshall at intimate concert in Chicago last night.
Fuck, I mumble.
I stare at us together for a moment more. We look good. We look happy. We were all happy last night. I had my hand wrapped around his cock last night. He wanted my mouth. I wanted to give it to him. I’m guessing Nandy gave him everything he wanted last night. And he’s still upstairs in Nandy’s bed, Nandy’s arms. Nandy’s legs holding him hostage. That’s what Nandy does when he lets you sleep with him.
But this photo…. not sure who it will piss off more. TJ because the world now thinks he is gay or bi. However he feels about himself, he may not be ready for the world to know. And Nandy, well, he hates his personal life being tossed about in the media. But this isn’t his personal life, though, is it? It’s mine. It looks like TJ is mine. Nandy can deny interest all he wants, but he has feelings for TJ, strong ones.
“So?” Another message from my client.
I shake my head and type the ridiculous but true statement.
“It’s not what it looks like. He and Nandy are friends. He was at the show.”
“Is he your friend too? Is he a club member?”
Irritation burns in my gut. First, this person…this married, father of three, deputy mayor, knows better than to ask a question like that.
“Now you know I’m not going to answer that question. And even asking can cost you your membership…you know that, right?”
No response. Ha, that’s what I thought. Second, I just want to look at this photo and let my mind embrace what the photo implies. It’s not the truth, but for a few moments here in my kitchen, I am going to let my heart believe it is.
I wish I could remember this moment. What was he saying to me? I have a vague recollection he was asking for water. About as unsexy and unmemorable as it gets.
The smile, his hand on me. My body tingles, reaching for a memory, a feeling it only knows exists because there is a photo. And because I had his cock in my hand last night.
That memory I can recall. The look in his eyes when I took his swollen cock in my hand is vivid. So thick and strong, just like he is. The way his lips parted and reached for mine. The stern warning from Nandy. I knew that warning was coming. I can’t recall the last time Nandy allowed a third in the room with us. That isn’t his thing. More proof TJ is different. I do multiples all the time. Rarely for my pleasure, though. Usually for others. An experiment. TJ seemed to like it. Enjoyed watching. Enjoyed watching both of us. I will dream about that kiss that never happened forever.
Do I warn them about this? Before they open their phones. Maybe they already have. Are they having sex again? Sleepy, lazy morning sex, on sheets still pungent from night before sex. My cock twitches at the thought.
I love morning sex. Maybe because I never get to have it. I never wake up with anyone. I wake alone. I go to sleep alone. In my bed alone. I’ve never been in Nandy’s bed. He’s been in mine just a few times. Never for sleep. And even then…I always woke alone.
I save the photo to my phone and tuck it away and head to my laptop. Let Nandy and TJ sleep. Let them enjoy the quiet before the storm. Before the outside world forces its opinion on us. Before the reality of that photo reveals itself and TJ is no longer mine.
Chapter thirty
It’s been more than a week since the photos of Nandy, Fynn and I hit the internet, and other than the headlines the first day, nobody seems to care.
We all got a good chuckle out of how wrong they got it. I actually loved that aspect of it and, well, the three of us look damn good together.
Maybe they haven’t noticed yet. Maybe they truly don’t care. My relationship with Nandy, or Fynn, has nothing to do with my performance on the ice, which has, in fact, improved since the All Star break. So actually, everyone should thank them.
What is concerning is the silence from my father. This isn’t something he would take quietly…but so far, that seems to be exactly how he is taking it. Or, he hasn’t heard about it yet, either, which is highly unlikely.
