And even though I did not come over to dump this all out, the words come spilling out. “Maybe we’ve had strings attached for a long time,” I tell him. “This arrangement has evolved, and I don’t think I’m going to be happy anymore with something casual and limited. I want to be your boyfriend, Troy. I don’t want to keep hiding from everyone. I want to tell them.”
Troy’s face falls. “Orlando,” he says, imploring me. “Our careers.”
I fight not to raise my voice. “I know about our damn careers,” I say. “I’m about to head to the MLS Cup, Troy. And you’re in the middle of signing Marshall and Patel. I get it. But did you even hear what I just said?”
He blinks, not answering.
“I’m falling for you,” I say again, frustration choking me. “I just told you that I’m falling for you, Troy, and that I want to be your boyfriend. And your first words are about our careers?”
He throws his hands up, but strangles his voice, keeping it to a rasp. “What the hell do you think we’re going to do? Show up at the MLS Cup holding hands? That’s not a solution to the problem, Orlando.”
“No shit.” I squeeze my hands into fists, so mad I know I’m about to make a mistake and cause a scene. “And for the record, I’d come out and tell the world you were my boyfriend right now. Fuck it. I don’t need to wait! But I’mnotpushing for that because it would mean career chaos for both of us, and I know that’s not what you want.” I snort air out my nose. “Seriously? Do you seriously have nothing else to say to me?”
Affronted, Troy coughs. As he stares at me, though, his expression slowly softens. “Yes. Orlando. I told you, I’ve missed you. And I want you. I want…” He lightly punches his palm, grinding his fist into his hand, coming short of saying the words I really need to hear. “I want you to keep your head in the game and win this cup, Orlando. Everything else is for after that, me included.”
My heart sinks. He says he missed me and wants me, but then why is he still retreating from me?
But I’m not going to argue right now. I’m not going to make a scene in his office. Choking back my emotions, I blink.
“Fine,” I tell him, dejection sinking in my gut. “I guess I should go win the MLS Cup then. Does the agency need anything else from me?” I ask, putting emphasis onthe agency.
Troy shakes his head. “You’re going to be good?” he asks carefully, and I know he sees I’m upset.
I nod brusquely and grab my phone. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
Troy holds my eye. “I honestly missed you. You know that I did, right? That’s not what this is about.”
“Sure, Troy,” I say. “I’ll see you after the game.”
I leave the office before he can get another word out.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
TROY
“Pull it together, Frisk,” I tell myself in the mirror. There are bags under my eyes that no amount of coffee can fix. “I look like the bottom of a shoe,” I grumble and try to fix my tie.
The encounter with Orlando last night has left me shaken. His energy was up, and he had that wild look in his eyes, like when he scolded me in the elevator months ago.
He’s days away from his comeback game. The realization that he was considering going public shook me. He explained that he wasn’t pushing it because he respects what I want, but that just sent me on another spiral.
He shouldn’t be thinking of those things at all. None of this should concern him in the days before a major game, and guilt rumbles in my gut, reminding me that this is my fault.
Orlando wants something real with me. I’m realizing I want that, too, but I still feel like I’m walking on the precipice of disaster. The scandal could undo us, and only a day away from signing Marshall and Patel, with Orlando primed and ready to win his first championship.
How badly I want him is part of the problem. It clouds my thinking. No sooner had he pressed his lips to mine in this office last night, and my soul reacted. I was ready to push him over the desk, tear his shirt off, promise him things.
Even more dangerous than that. I want Orlando to wake up in my bed. I want to attend his games as his boyfriend, cheer for him from the stands.
Torn apart, I grab my coffee and walk out of my office. The agency is busy, and the imminent signing of Marshall and Patel has brought a flurry of new business. The energy hums through the air as I stalk over to Mel’s office and stick my head in.
She glances up. “Marshall asked us to pick the location for dinner tonight. Japanese? I’ll leak to a friendly photographer.”
“I’ve got the contracts finalized.”
Mel raises an eyebrow from her desk. “Something else?”
“Got a minute?”
