AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter twenty-one
Duckie
That fucking fuckhead. Ican’t believe that asshole blew my cover. It was his idea to send me a box of fucking ducks and now he’s told five fucking people, all at once, that it’s me leaving ducks now all over this tour. The only one of them that doesn’t look surprised is Ian. Did he know it was me already?
“Okay, okay, okay. Let’s try to keep this between us. I’d like to be able to get rid of the other two hundred or so ducks my lovely big brother sent me before the end of this tour without the teams figuring out that it’s me.”
“We got you,” Eddie says, elbowing Ian’s side.
“Did you know it was him?”
Ian shakes his head, but I see the slight smirk creeping onto his lips.
“You had to know,” Rob adds.
Ian shrugs. “I never really pay much attention to what he’s doing.”
“Well, I’ll leave you fellas to breakfast. Duckie, we’ll catch up after the game. Lucas wants to grab dinner, if you don’t have any plans?”
“No, umm, I mean, great. No, I don’t have plans.”
Carter throws a smile toward the guys except when his gaze lands on Ian, his lips do this half-frown thing. Carter knows everything about Ian and me. I called him on my walk back to the hotel last night, which is I guess why he decided to make this early-morning appearance instead of relaxing with Lucas at whatever bed and breakfast Lucas booked them into. Carter helped me to see that even if Ian is done with whatever this is we were doing, I’ll still be me, whoever that guy is. I guess he made me see that the person I’m fucking has no bearing on the guy I am. It doesn’t help the tightness that grows in my chest when I look at Ian, and the idea of sharing a room with him and not being able to kiss him, to hold him, digs at my mind.
“One of the other outlets reported on a rift between the writers,” Sherman says, drawing everyone’s attention. I take a seat, not bothering to grab any food from the buffet. I don’t think I could eat anything, anyway. The coffee will have to be enough for now.
“What does it say?” Rob asks, and Sherman starts to read from his phone.
“Someone close to the tour reports the on-field rivalry between these two new teams has spread to the writers following the tour, causing a greater divide between the players.”
“Fuck off, the players don’t give a shit about what we’re doing,” I reply.
“What else does it say?” Ian asks, leaning forward a little. Is he worried? We wanted the rivalry to be noticed, but he could be having second thoughts about that, too.
Sherman reads silently for a moment, then smiles, then laughs.
“What is it?” I ask, and he shakes his head, trying to regain his composure.
“They claim the rivalry is rumored to be due to a love triangle with one of the players.”
“Seriously, what the fuck? There’s no way any of us would hook up with a player,” I bark.
“Dude, we know that, but it’s sex and sex sells,” Sherman adds.
My phone buzzes, and I check the screen. It’s Yarro, my editor. Fuck.
“I have to take this,” I tell them, slip away from the table, and walk out of the restaurant.
“Hey, what’s up?” I answer, trying to stay all casual.
“Is it true?” Yarro asks, and I swear I can feel the glare through the phone.
“Is what true?”
“Don’t fucking play games with me. Are they talking about you?”
I sigh. “Thereisa sort of rivalry between another writer and me, yes, but the part about a love triangle, no fucking way. Do you think I would be that stupid?”
There’s a long pause, and I check my phone screen to make sure he’s still connected.
