“It’s not uncommon,” Blake answers.
“Did anyone notice that most of the paparazzi back there weren’t the usual crowd?” Tad asks. I think hard, trying to separate the chaos.
“He’s right,” I say. “I saw one or two of the usual guys that always follow us around, but they don’t usually give us much trouble. These were all new people.”
“Hired, maybe?” Cory asks, flicking his eyes up to the rearview mirror. Tad nods.
With a deep sigh, I look up at Luc. He’s clearly shaken, even though he’s trying to put on a brave face for my benefit. “I should probably take you home. Maybe we can hide out at your–”
“I agree that Mr. Martín should go back home,” Blake says, his voice sounding legitimately regretful through the car speakers. “But it’s probably best if you don’t go with him.”
I sit up straight. “What?”
“I think it’s a good idea if Luc heads home alone and makes a point to be seen somewhere in Shreveport while you are recorded and photographed in New York at the same time. So far, any rumors about the two of you have gone nowhere, but I wouldn’t put it past the news outlets and politicians to look into every single fan theory and rumor just in case they can make something of it, even if it isn’t true.”
“Better safe than sorry,” Naz says, giving me a serious, worried look. His words from the other day come to mind.Would your relationship survive if this were to get out?
“Mr. Martín, you should be extra vigilant. Watch what you say in public, there could be recording devices anywhere. Keep your curtains closed and tell your Coach and stadium security to expect drones.”
“Isn’t it illegal to record people in their homes, or their private conversations?”
“There are ways of getting around that, and if the news is big enough, they’d consider it worth the risk.”
“Jesus,” Luc mutters under his breath.
“I’m so sorry,” I mutter, feeling sick to my stomach.
He pulls me tighter into his side. “This isn’t your fault,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
Tad arranges for an unmarked, unassuming vehicle to be waiting for us in the private basement entrance of the hotel. Luc and I are given twenty minutes to pack up his things and say our goodbyes. The quicker he’s seen back in Louisiana, the better.
I cling to him, feeling a hundred times worse than the first time I watched him drive away from me. Parting from him never feels good. But this time…
It feels ominous.
TWENTY-TWO
LUC
Once again, I’m confronted by how fucking lonely my condo is. How did I never feel how thick the silence is?
My keys clatter too loudly against the counter. My footsteps echo. There’s barely any light filtering in through the windows from the moon and streetlights outside, still I close every blind and curtain in the condo before turning on any lights.
I consider calling Jesse. He hasn’t seen or replied to my text that the plane landed and I got home safely, so I’m guessing he’s asleep. I just want to hear his voice, so I putRemember My Nameon repeat before sinking onto my couch and rubbing my hands over my face.
Before Jesse, my life was orderly. Routine. I went to practice, I worked out, did my grocery shopping twice a week, played through the seasons, and went home when I had breaks in between. That was it. It was simple. But now I see that it was lacking. It was hollow.
Because now I know what it’s like to wake up next to someone that fits against me like a puzzle piece. Whose laugh lights upmore pleasure receptors than the sex does, and the sex is pretty fucking mind-bending. Now I know what it is to look forward to talking to someone all day, to feel my heart skip a beat when I find a text or video message waiting. To plan for the future, when we’ll next see each other, and count the days until that happens.
Now I don’t know when the next time will be.
I wake up to a text from Jesse, but it’s just another apology. I don’t know how to make him believe that I don’t blame him for any of this. Even if they find out Jesse and I have been in the same place at the same time and put it together that we like each other, does it matter that much? I’m starting to think that denying myself happiness isn’t worth the opinions and comfort of others.
ME: I miss you.
Ghost: I miss you, too.
As Mr. Holland suggested, I call a couple of teammates to meet up for lunch. AJ is the first to arrive, and he wastes no time plopping down in the chair across from me and crossing his arms.
