I eyed him warily. “What about you? Aren’t you worried what it’ll do to your rep?”
“Not really. I’m privileged enough that I don’t have to. They can take all the pictures of me they want. I have nothing to hide.”
Of course he didn’t. Freddie Santos was as uber heterosexual as they came, and I irrationally hated him for it, despite the knowledge that if Micah had been just like him, I wouldn’t be counting the minutes until I could run home and rip his clothes off.
Freddie took my silence for doubt. He nudged me. “Seriously, dude. Don’t worry about it. At least if they think I’m banging him, they’ll stay off your tail for a while.”
“My tail?”
“Yeah. You and Micah can’t keep it indoors forever.”
I blinked. For reasons I didn’t quite understand, it hadn’t occurred to me that Micah had told Freddie—or anyone else—about us. I’d accepted the fact that keeping it “indoors” was a forever status and hadn’t considered the consequences of doing otherwise. I cast an uneasy glance at the bin. Micah’s low profile meant that he bored the paparazzi enough for their attention to be sporadic. Would that change if he had a boyfriend?
As if he even wants you to be his boyfriend, fool. Does friends with benefits mean nothing to you?
I really was a fool. Not because I was pondering my boyfriend status in the middle of the street while Freddie looked on, but because it didn’t matter. I’d promised Micah over and over that I was his friend, and that came before anything. Before photos of him in the newspapers with other men, and before my pathetic desire to put a label on whatever was brewing between us.Stop angsting.
Easier said than done, but as Freddie said his goodbyes and meandered away, home time couldn’t come soon enough.
* * *
Micah was exactly where I expected him to be, slouched on the couch in front of midweek football, pretending he wasn’t utterly obsessed. Much had changed in recent weeks, but not that.
I shut the door with a quiet click and took the pizza I’d picked up on my way home to the coffee table.
A copy ofThe Sungreeted me, opened to the Freddie snap. “So you saw it, huh?”
Micah slid me a slow stare from behind his hood. “My ex-agent gave me a heads up. Though, actually, he was never my agent for real. He quit before we signed the contract.”
“But you’re still in touch?”
“No. He’s just a good guy with stuff like this.”
I opened one of the beer bottles I’d slid in my pocket on my way out of the pub. “Can’t be that good if he quit on you.”
“He didn’t quit onme.” Micah waved the beer away. “He left the game to build houses with Dom.”
“Ramos?”
“Yup. They’re BFFs. Oh, and Isha’s queer as fuck too, which I didn’t know till about a month ago. I thought he was married with kids and shit.”
“You can do all those things and still be bi or pan. Don’t erase yourself.”
Micah snorted. “And don’t you be lecturing me. I know what I am.”
“Sorry. You know I can’t help being a smart arse.”
“I like your arse.”
“Good to know.” I picked up the newspaper to cover my blush. Getting used to Micah being casually sexual with me—or at all—was very much still a thing. “I saw Freddie today. He didn’t seem bothered about being labelled your boyfriend.”
“Where did you see Freddie?”
“Outside the pub. I thought he might be coming to see you.”
“He didn’t.”
“Oh. Maybe he was going to the gym then.”
