“When have I ever said no to ice cream?” Andrew says, laughing. He grabs the bottle opener and two bottles of Corona before heading back into the lounge.
Connie had mentioned that Alexander would be doing a sit-down interview today to shut down all the speculation, but hadn’t given me any further information.
After some investigating, I’d figured out the interview was withBehind the Scenesand would play at eight o’clock tonight. Which meant I’d be home to view it. I’d hoped watching it would give me some closure, but if my reaction to the song on the radio and the billboard I saw is anything to go by, I don’t think it will.
Then there’s the issue of convincing Andrew to watch it.
I’ve been trying to work out how to approach this, especially since watching the NBA Finals has become a new tradition. It’s something we both do when we’re home during playoff season. Andrew even dons his Laker’s jersey, revealing toned arms that remind me of Alexander’s.
Clearly, I do have a type. Shorter than me, muscular, into sports, and with that pretty bad boy look.
“Do you mind if we flick over to NBC at eight?” I ask, popping the lid off the ice cream and leaning across the couch to offer him a spoon.
“What’s on at eight?” Andrew puts his Corona down and takes the spoon, digging in extra hard to get a large scoop of ice cream.
“It’s one of my sister’s favorite artists. He’s doing an interview, and she wants me to text her all the details as soon as it airs.”
I move myself back, hiding my discomfort at concealing the truth. I reach for the other spoon, taking a scoop of the ice cream and swallowing it down along with my guilt.
“Can’t we just TiVo it?” He looks at me, his face crinkling.
I knew this would be his answer and thank God I planned for this. I have a backup plan that will work. Call it emotional blackmail if you will, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
“Remember when you broke up with Michael and all youwanted to do was cuddle up on the couch and watch Disney films? We skipped two NBA games last year so you could pretend to be Jasmine and that Aladdin would come rescue you.”
“What does that have to do with this?” His brows furrow.
“Well, I’m just asking for thirty minutes tonight for you to cuddle up with me on the couch and watch the interview. If not for me, then for Kelly.” I break away from his stare to put the tub of ice cream down and grab the other Corona, taking a swig.
“Okay,” he says after a short pause. “But I don’t want this becoming a habit.”
“It won’t,” I say.
The next twenty minutes pass tediously. I pick at the label on the beer bottle, waiting for the clock on the wall to hit eight, before I reach for the remote.
The program credits start, and I inhale so deeply that it startles Andrew.
He shakes his head as he reaches for his beer and takes another sip.
After a brief introduction from the host, the camera cuts to Alexander sitting across from him, and my heart skips two beats. His face looks even more beautiful on screen than it does in person. The white of his shirt brings out his tanned skin and blue eyes. His hair is on the stylish side of messy, in complete contrast to Tony’s hair.
“Your sister’s got good taste in men.” Andrew raises his brows at me.
“He’s alright. Had better.” I wink and nudge him with my elbow.
Andrew laughs and grabs another spoonful of the ice cream that now sits between us. I lower my head to his shoulder, grateful not to be going through this alone. I’ll do anything rightnow to make the pain of watching this more bearable. Even if it means flirting with Andrew.
With the pleasantries over, the host readjusts himself in his chair, and I get a sense of where this conversation is starting. My shoulders tense up, bracing like I’m watching a suspense scene in a horror film.
“There’s been a lot of speculation going around the last couple of days about the video that leaked online of you with another man, and I wanted to give you the opportunity tonight to address the speculation directly.” He points his cue cards at the camera.
A ping sounds from Andrew’s phone, and he picks it up, thankfully distracted from the clip I’ve now seen a hundred times of Alexander and me. The last thing I need is Andrew finding out about this. I love him, but his lips are as loose as his asshole, and if he were to find out, half of WeHo would know before the night is out.
“Wait, he’s gay?” Andrew asks, when he finishes responding to the message.
“Shh,” I say, whacking his arm.
I’m keen to hear how Alexander addresses what happened between us, and I don’t need any interruptions.
