I liked girls, but then there was Hollis.
I felt like a sham because these girls looked at me wondering why I couldn’t be like Hollis. And it was so hard to belikehim when all I wanted to do was bewithhim.
I’d realized this after we’d had an incredible senior prom with Ginny. It resulted in them breaking up because Hollis defended me. Ever since my first experience with him at school, he’d been defending me.
I wanted Hollis Hawkins.
And I knew I couldn’t have him.
He was on the cusp of being larger than life. As long as I could be in his life somehow, I’d be grateful.
Nineteen years old/June
Istayed out of the way and paced as I watched the medical staff tend to a few of Hollis’ cuts before the press conference. He seemed fine—Hollis was always fine. He had the toughest exterior and strongest mindset of anyone I’d ever known.
The world wanted him, and I was lucky to have him as my best friend. Hollis and I got a place together and had occasional sexual benefits.
Hollis was like an addictive drug. He could ease any pain I had, and he’d been doing that since the tenth grade. I craved him. I hungered for the way he made me feel. He’d take the pain away and would make me feel good.
And just like an addictive drug, he could be lethal to me. When I’d see him with girls at parties, I felt the stomach pain that I’d been so accustomed to. I’d see him disappear with a chick during a party, and I’d feel terrible. I’d feel unwanted and reminded myself that I wasn’t worthy of him. I’d sink into a depression that only he could pull me out of.
I wanted more with him, but I knew that would never happen. He had the world in his hands, and I could never have him. Not completely, at least. Even if I were worthy of him, things were too complicated with TCF. It was his world. His dream. And I wasn’t a piece that could fit into it as his partner. It didn’t stop me from dreaming and fantasizing about it, and it didn’t stop me from saying yes to touching and playing with him behind the closed door of our home.
I followed everyone into the banquet hall for the press conference following the fight. He’d only had two fights so far, but he had a perfect, undefeated record. I leaned against the wall and watched him on stage. He owned the stage, and everyone loved him. He’d always been like this.
As Hollis spoke into the microphone to answer questions, he looked over at me and held my gaze for a few moments. He kept one hand on the open water bottle and slowly moved his hand up and down the plastic. He continued to answer questions as he stroked the bottle, making me hard. When he circled the top of the bottle with the pad of his thumb, I slipped my hand in my pocket and felt the outline of my shaft. Even though I was listening to him, I was focused on his hand on the water bottle. I wanted it to be his hand on my dick. He toyed with the opening on the bottle with his thumb again, and when he brought the bottle to his lips to drink, I could feel myself break out in a mild sweat. I was hard… because I watched The Dragon drink from a water bottle.
After the press conference, I talked with Corey, Hollis’ agent, and then his brothers while we waited for Hollis to shower and get changed. Corey was able to get us reservations at the steakhouse at the hotel we were staying at. It would be calm tonight because it was just the family going out to celebrate. Or at least, I thought it might be calm.
I was quickly reminded of the celebrity status that Hollis had now. Cameras flashed as we walked from the banquet hall where the press conference was held to the restaurant. Hollis’ team of personal bodyguards did a great job with keeping a good perimeter around us so no one got too close. The restaurant manager came up to the podium to welcome us and showed us to our table. Hollis stood outside the restaurant with a few of the bodyguards and signed some autographs for a few minutes. The rest of us sat and listened to the specials while Hollis remained outside.
“I wonder if I’ll get the kids’ menu,” Chase said quietly but loud enough for me to hear. He rubbed his bare chin the way their grandpa did when he was considering something or listening. Chase would get some peach fuzz in soon. He was going to be tall just like his dad and brothers. For a brief moment I thought about my dad. I hoped I didn’t carry any of his traits.
“Sweetie, take a look at the menu and see if something looks good to you,” Kristin told Chase.
He looked at me and his eyes got wide as if shocked by what his mom suggested. He flipped open the big menu and started to rub his chin again.
“Patrick,” he whispered to get my attention.
“Hmm?”
“Is there a plain baked potato? Or fries? Or soup?” he asked.
“There’s soup—”
“Normal soup, or weirdo soup?”
“What’s weirdo soup?” I asked him.
“If it’s not plain, it’s weirdo soup.”
I smiled at Chase and leaned over to look at the menu with him. The font in the menu was a fancy cursive, so Chase struggled just to read some of it.
“Oh, here, look,” I said and pointed to the section with sides. I pointed out the baked potato and fries, but then we noticed the fries were seasoned.
“What kind of criminal seasons fries?” he asked.
“Chasion, lower your voice,” Kristin said.
