Severen: Also, I am very traumatized from hearing you have sex. I didn’t even think you were capable of making a sound like that.
Rogue: Duuuude!!! That sounds hot as fuck. I’d pay premium to watch that
Rogue: But I will absolutely deliver your eulogy naked. I’ll need to blink though
Severen: My guy, that wasn’t a suggestion. This is why I said words aren’t your strong suit.
Severen: You know what? Never mind. Do it naked.
Rogue: Fuck yeah
Rogue: Thoughts and prayers though, brother
Rogue: Especially when Coach finds out
Tightening my lips into a firm line, I heave out a heavy breath through my nose and click out of the chat, though the two continue toblow my shit up with nonsense.
Severen’s right, however.
Reverie is definitely going to kill me—but only if Coach doesn’t kill me first.
I have a shit ton of messages—several from my manager, Jonah, and my publicist, Carrie, four reporters from different outlets asking for a statement, my teammates, some from unsaved numbers…
Fuckingfuck.
I close out of the messages before I lose my goddamn mind and wipe my hand down my face roughly with a groan, trying to decide which one of them to deal with first. This is going to be a big hit to my reputation. It’s definitely all over social media, and if fucking CVN doesn’t have an article written already, it’s because every single journalist miraculously died.
I speed walk to my car and slide in. Then, I start the engine and turn up the hot air to defrost my windows. Once I'm settled, I unlock my phone to make my first call.
And fuck me, if my screen saver of licking Rev’s tear isn’t an omen, I don’t know what is.
I pull up Coach’s number first and hit call. He already left for the night, and I don't know if I'd have the balls to deliver the news to his face, anyway.
He answers before the first ring completes. “I was just about to call you, asshole. You better have a goddamn good fucking explanation for why the fuck you have a fucking sex tape circulating online, you fucking idiot.”
Yeah, he’s pissed.
“I wouldn’t call it a sex tape,” I mutter. “No one can see us.”
“What the fuck are you doing in the video, Kellan?” he barks.
I tighten my lips, preferring not to answer that.
“Well?”
I sigh. “Having sex.”
“So then it’s a goddamn sex tape!” he bellows. I wince, holding the phone an inch away from my ear before he blows it out.
“I’ll deny it’s me,” I quickly placate. “I mean, I’m sure there’s another fucking student here with the same name.”
“You’re goddamn right you’re going to deny it. You’re so fucking lucky the video doesn’t show the door number to identify who the girlis.” He pauses for a beat, and then his voice drops as he asks, “Do I need to know who it is?”
Coach knows all about my past and, therefore, Reverie. He’s reamed me out until he went purple in the face more times than I can count for fucking with her, usually because she complained to the dean or a witness posted about one of my pranks online. My management team has scrubbed the internet of shit like that a few times now. However, this time is going to be a little harder.
“Probably,” I mutter.
“Please tell me it’s not someone different from who you posted on that fucking Gram app.”
