It’s like my thoughts make her appear.
It’s her face standing in the doorway, with someone familiar at her back. I can’t place him. When Sutton’s eyes find mine, she gives me a cautious wave and points in my direction.
The man with her has an angry look on his face.
Shit.
What in the world did I do wrong? Is this her brother? Maybe that’s why this person looks familiar.
As they get closer, I stand, wiping my hands on my shorts.
“Hi, Derek.” Sutton stands on the other side of the table. It’s maybe two feet wide, but feels like a gulf. She looks beautiful as always, if not a little nervous.
“Hey. Is everything okay?” I wave a hand for her to sit.
“Jameson has some concerns.” Sutton nods her head to the man standing behind her. “I thought it was best to clear the air.”
“Jameson, is it?” I hold out a hand to the man that is glaring at me. A bright pink see-through tank top clings to his muscles. He’s in a pair of black ripped jeans that show more skin than they hide. His deep brown eyes are pools of anger. I have no idea what Sutton might have told him to get this kind of response out of him. “I’m Derek. Nice to meet you.”
He doesn’t shake my hand, but takes a seat next to Sutton.
Well, shit. This isn’t going to go well.
They’re muttering to each other as I sit across from them, my nerves ratcheting up.
“I’m sorry to drag you out so late, Derek,” Sutton starts. “But it’s important.”
“Of course.” I try to give her a smile, but it doesn’t quite get there.
“Jameson—”
“Why are you a raging homophobe?” Jameson cuts Sutton off. Getting right to the point, apparently. “Why do you hate people like me?”
“Jameson!” Sutton hisses.
Ice water floods my veins. If he’s asking me that, then he’s seen the articles that highlight my past. My less than upstanding past.
“I…”
“What, have nothing to say for yourself, hmm?” Jameson kicks back in the booth and crosses his arms. He’s not one to mess with.
I squeeze the back of my neck, trying to figure out what I need to say. It’s not often my past gets dragged out. When I applied for the job at the high school, I was up-front about the kind of player I was and how I wanted to change. The principal was willing to give me a second chance. My assistant?
He doesn’t pay attention to the news. Full of lies, as he said.
Jameson, however, is someone that if I want a future with Sutton, I need to tell the truth to. Not that I’d lie to her.
“I don’t hate you.”
“You don’t? Because I’m a gay man and don’t want someone like you with my best friend.”
“You read all the articles about my playing days.” I breathe out. “What do you want to know?”
“Why? Tell me why. Because everything is telling me to grab Sutton and put you in her rearview mirror.”
I turn to face the woman in question, and she’s fuming.
“You do not speak for me, Jameson. If you want to hash this out with Derek, by all means. But you are not dragging me out of here when you already dragged me here.”
