“Hey! I’ll have you know I held my ground tonight against Lance Mercer. I can totally take Tate on.”
More snickers ensue. “He still trying to get in your pants?”
“Tate? I didn’t know he was trying to, but he might as well give up, because that’s only happening if hell freezes over.”
“I meant Lance, you idiot.”
I smile at the affection in his tone, even if he is calling me names.
“Yep. Still laying it onrealthick.”
“That bastard doesn’t know how to take a hint. You’d think after a year, he’d get it into his head that you’re not into dudes.”
More silence falls between us, this time coming from me.
Ray was the only person involved with MYTHS who knew about my sexuality. We’d both agreed it’ll be better for the band that way, since being gay wasn’t exactly widely accepted back then.
Now there are a lot more artists and celebrities coming out and showing the world who they truly are, but things were different when MYTHS first started out, and I never saw the need to rock the boat.
Which is why people I’ve spent half a decade with still don’t know I’m gay.
I suddenly wonder if I should tell him the truth, but the thought is interrupted by a coughing fit from Sully.
“I should let you rest your voice. I hope you get better soon. I’ll see you for dinner when you’re in town next week?”
“Thanks, and yes. See you next week.”
I end the call and just about scream my lungs out when I see a large white shadow looming in the corner of my eye.
The body turns around to reveal a freshly showered Rowan. He’s usually in dark clothes, so I almost didn’t recognize him in my white bathrobe.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I saw you were on the phone and was about to head back into the room, so I didn’t disturb you,” he says apologetically.
“No, it’s fine. I was just distracted by Sully.”
“You got a hold of him? That’s great news, right?” he asks, smiling. My heart is still racing from the earlier scare, and his smile is only making it worse.
“Yeah. He’s been sleeping the flu off, so that’s why he hasn’t been answering Tate,” I explain, even though Rowan didn’task. He nods anyway, and then we’re standing there staring at each other.
“I saw the guest room door was closed and thought you already turned in for the night,” I say, mostly just to say something.
“Oh, yeah. I was taking a call,” he answers, rubbing the back of his short red hair. It’s still a little damp, so tiny droplets splatter from the action. “My niece saw pictures of us together tonight and was giving me an earful about not telling her earlier that you’re my newest client.”
“Why? Is she not a fan?” I tease.
“Exact opposite, in fact. Reagan will probably say she’s your biggest fan. The, um, biggest Itty-bitty?”
I snort at the nickname my fandom has chosen for itself. It’s supposed to be a play on my last name, and I do have to admit that it’s cute calling my fans my Itty-bitties.
“And what about her uncle? Is he an Itty-bitty?” I can’t keep the smile off my face.
“I didn’t even know what that was last week,” he confesses.
“Are you saying youhaven’tbeen stalking my career since the beginning? Why, I never!” I say with an offended hand on my chest.
As I hoped he would, Rowan laughs, and I’m once again struck by the beauty of the giant man in front of me. The man who is probablynakedunder that robe…
And oh no. We’re not going to head down that dangerous path again.
