Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I watched as Charlie attempted a conversation with the guy, but looked disappointed after a girl came up to him and gave him a kiss. It looked like the guy had a girlfriend after all. But Jax, the college jock bartender from Jade Brewery, walked in soon after, and he immediately found Charlie. The two of them latched onto each other immediately, needing a party buddy, and I was glad to see it.
Shawn and Rush came in soon after, accompanied by Tristan, Jack, and a couple of other contractors that sometimes worked with the Fixer Brothers. As I greeted all of them, I danced around the topic of asking where Nathan was.
Not that my eyes didn’t glance toward the front of my house every time someone new came in.
Bitter disappointment started to creep in, more and more, each time the door opened and I realized that Nathan still hadn’t shown up. I started to realize that it was possible he wouldn’t come at all, and as I made my usual circuits around the party, chatting with people and giving hugs, it felt more and more like there was a caged bird in my chest.
Quit fucking thinking about it, I told myself, trying to be my own coach.
So I dove headfirst into the party. Tonight felt even more alive than usual because everyone was crammed into my living room, bar, and kitchen area instead of spilling out into the backyard. We’d make good use of the back later on, but for the show launch, we were all going to crowd around the big screen.
“Ay, everyone, the episodes just dropped!” Brent said, and I turned to see him standing at my TV with the remote in his hands, gesturing at the screen.
“They finally uploaded them?” I asked. “Oh, shit. It’s on, then. Time to watch.”
“Time to watch!” Marcus bellowed, commanding the attention of all the people in my house. “I don’t know about you all, but I’m ready to see myself acting like a damn fool on TV.” That was one good thing about having professional football players at a party—they could get anyone’s attention, anytime.
As everyone crowded around, packing in on the couch, chairs, and sitting all around the floor, I had a nervous flutter for the first time in a long while. I did dumb shit in front of millions of people online every day, but seeing the opening credits of my own, actual TV show was something different.
I watched as footage of me on the field started to play, and everyone clapped and cheered. The first episode followed me on a typical day, doing some training and working out in the morning, sauna and cold plunging, and then keeping up on my social media. They focused on the fact that I was one of the few openly gay pro football players in the country, and showed scenes from a day a few months ago when I had volunteered at an LGBTQ fundraiser.
If it was strange seeing myself on a real show, it was even weirder looking around at all my friends watching it, too. I glanced around the room, a surreal feeling hitting me.
People usually watched me from bleachers high above, or from their phone in the comfort of their own homes. But for the first time, right now, I was feeling something close to stage fright.
Callie was standing next to me as I watched the show from behind the couch. She’d put her arm around me, squeezing me during a part of the show where they’d interviewed me regarding my coming out experience.
I clenched my jaw. Why did all of this feel so weird? I’d always even called myself a bit of an attention whore.
But I felt like I was about to explode, right now. Like there was some pressure on me I had never been aware of before.
“Thanks, Cal,” I told her quietly before slipping away from her. “Give me a sec, okay?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “You okay?”
I nodded once. “Need to, uh, grab something,” I said, fumbling to make some excuse before I stole off toward the kitchen.
I ducked around to the back of the kitchen and down the short hall that led to the entryway foyer.
My heart was beating way too fast. I leaned on the marble table near the edge of the entryway, closing my eyes and trying to breathe evenly. What the fuck was wrong with me? As I opened my eyes, I glanced toward the long windows that looked out onto the driveway, and I felt like I’d had the wind knocked out of me.
Out in the dark, I saw Nathan in the driveway, struggling to carry a long, narrow white box in his arms while balancing a bottle of wine and some other liquor bottle on top of it. One of the bottles teetered and almost slid off, but he stopped, balancing the box.