Jamal groans as his phone rings too.
We haven’t been as careful about sleeping in the same hotel room since telling the team, and it’s a relief.
Maybe my mother is finally calling me back. I kiss Jamal’s round shoulder and roll over. Both our phones are on the same nightstand charging.
Sarah’s name lights up my screen, and although I have so much to tell her, I’m disappointed.
“Shit. Finn’s calling you.” I toss Jamal his phone and answer mine.
“Are you okay?” Sarah’s voice is high-pitched and stressed. On the other side of the bed, I hear Finn’s voice through the phone.
“Yeah. Typical hockey fight. My nose isn’t broken.” I yawn, not sure I’m ready for her drama this early in the morning.
“Oh my God, you don’t know,” she whispers.
Jamal’s face falls, and his mouth hangs open. He glances at me with wary eyes. This is not good.
“What?” I demand.
“I can’t describe it. Google your name. I won’t hang up,” Sarah assures me.
Jamal moves closer and reaches for me but stops as if he’s afraid of my reaction. My fingers clumsily try to open apps and type my name.
A headline pops up:Innocent or Incest.
My stomach heaves, dissecting the picture which only John could’ve taken while we slept. Jamal and I are fully clothed, sleeping on top of the covers of my bed, a foot apart. Jamal has one hand on his stomach, and I have one hand behind my head. It’s our other hands, in the middle of the bed, causing the problem. We’re not holding each other, but our pinky fingers are linked. I’m sick to my stomach with the memory of waking up to a flash. I’d forgotten, and now it’s hurting Jamal.
Jamal’s breathing becomes too fast and too loud, and when I look at him, his eyes are unfocused.
“Theo, did you see it?” Sarah asks, and I startle, having forgotten she’s on the phone.
There’s a banging on the door, and Finn’s voice comes through the phone and from the other side. Jamal points mutely as if I can’t hear the pounding.
“Sarah, I gotta go. The PR director is here.” I end the call without waiting for a response and get out of bed. I approach the door slowly as if it might be kicked in at any second. Through the peephole, I see only Finn and open the door.
“You little donuts suck all the fun out of queer love. You’re trying to put me in an early grave.” Finn huffs and pushes past me into the room, stopping short when he sees Jamal in bed. “Well, at least this is convenient, and I don’t need to hunt you down.”
“It’s my room.” Jamal’s chest visibly rises without his shirt on.
“Butterscotch, I’m going to ask you to put pants on.” Finn turns and gives me the once-over in my boxer briefs. “You too. We have a meeting five minutes ago in conference room C.”
“It’s my fault. John King threatened me because I’m not giving the family my money, and I knew he wouldn’t let it go. He took the picture and used the way Jamal and I fought for each other in last night’s game to make it seem plausiblewe’re a couple. Before that…he had no evidence.” My insides shrivel. “It’s my fault he wants to destroy us.”
Jamal gasps for air, and I rush to kneel at his side. “What do you need?” His eyes are panicked and darting around. “You can breathe. There’s enough air.” I don’t break eye contact with Jamal as I say, “Finn, I’ll bring him to conference room C as soon as we’re dressed.”
“Sugar britches, you take care of our precious, and we’ll have several plans to handle this. You gave enough info on the who and why of it all. This is where I shine.” His voice is unnaturally peppy, even for him. “Y’all have turned me into a damn disco ball with all my shine,” he mutters as he exits the room.
“That’s the sarcastic Finn I expected.” I place Jamal’s hand over my heart and take deep breaths. My mind races as his breath becomes shallower and faster. He’ll pass out at this rate. “Maj, you said your anxiety is worst when you’re not in control. Let me give you control. Control me.”
His eyes widen with concern and questions. I’m certainly not telling him I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’m about to join him in a breakdown.
“Fuck me like you own me. Mark me and take me as yours.”
Jamal shakes his head, and a stray tear tracks down his cheek.
“You won’t hurt me,” I say, and he glares at me. “I trust you, even if you lose control, you won’t hurt me. I know you.”
More tears leak out of his eyes, and he throws his arms around me. Time to fight dirty.
