Chapter 25: Thad

Chapter 25

Thad

Kelley says he’ll leave his car at the stadium overnight, seeing as he can park in the players’ lot, which I’m thankful for because parking is a rip-off. Though, I still have some of that Kelley bonus sitting in my account.

I’m trying not to touch it. After paying off Mom and Dad’s Wylder debts, paying back my roommates what I owe them, catching up on rent, and paying the following month in advance, I have less than three thousand left. I intend to keep the rest in case I need it. Like, if Wylder comes back and takes more money from my parents or if one of their appliances breaks. It’s there for emergencies, and it’s going to stay that way.

Kelley directs me where to go, and even though I’m not exactly thrilled about having him in this beat-up old car that smells like dude and stale Doritos, I don’t let it get to me too much. Kelley knows I have money issues. He can’t expect me to own something as fancy as whatever he drives. Even if, technically, I don’t own this car either, but that’s not the point.

There’s a parking lot nearby the upscale bar with private rooms—all things Kelley has rambled about on our way there—and as soon as we get out of the car, I have to fight the urge to take his hand in mine.

I deserve a damn medal for making Kelley come here instead of back to his place where we could be naked already, but this is better. I don’t want him to think the only reason I came to watch him play was to get into his pants.

I do want in his pants, especially after watching that game, but I can be patient.

Maybe.

I’d offer to blow him in a dark corner again like we did in the boat shed, but I don’t want hard and fast this time. I want a repeat of our first time together. Exploring each other, trying different things, fucking him and then him fucking me. I want to go back to his place and stay up all night until the sun appears, and then we can sleep until Kelley needs to go back to the stadium for tomorrow night’s game.

We enter the bar at an unmarked door, where a burly security guard opens up and waves us on through. There’s no sign out here, nothing. I wouldn’t have even thought it was a club.

“Are you sure this is a sports bar?”

“Yep. We get to use the side entrance so fans don’t crowd us.”

“Ah, so this is where the team goes to celebrate?”

“And commiserate. Not everyone comes because a lot of the guys have families, and we don’t come out if we have a road trip the following day, but they treat us well here.”

“I can see that.” Lifestyles of the major leagues. I’m not jealous and bitter at all. Okay, I am. But not at Kelley. Never at Kelley again. He doesn’t deserve it.

Kelley pushes open a frosted glass door in a corner of the hallway, and if I look to my right, it leads to where there’s a nightclub area.

Inside the large private room are couches on one side and a long dinner table on the other.

Some of Kelley’s teammates are already happily buzzed, and when they notice us, they throw their arms up and shout. I don’t think it’s words.

“The man of the hour,” Frederik Zaka says and claps Kelley on the shoulder.

“And I did it without pissing Skip off too,” Kelley says.

“Hey, I thought that was the signal for swing, not bunt. At least, that’s how it was when I played for Kansas.”

I have no idea what they’re talking about, but I don’t buy Zaka’s excuse for a second because his smile is too innocent to be real.

Kelley glances over at me. “How long do you think he’ll be able to use the ‘I’m new’ excuse until he gets in trouble with his agent for not listening to team management?”

I pretend to think. “I guess it depends on the agent.”

“It’s Merek,” Kelley says. “Zaka signed with King Sports before he got the free agent deal with Philly.” Then he turns to Zaka. “This is Thad St. James. He’s an intern at King Sports.”

“Nice to meet you.” Zaka holds out his hand for me to shake.

Actually shaking it is surreal to me. I’ve obviously met sports stars before, a lot more since starting at King Sports, but when one of your idols is standing in front of you, it’s hard not to be starstruck.

“You too.” My voice cracks. Damn it.

“So, what are your intentions with our dearest pitcher?” Zaka puts his arm around Kelley’s shoulders, and I laugh.

It’s tempting to tell Zaka exactly what I want to do to Kelley, but I don’t. That will make things even more awkward with his teammates than Kelley has already said it is. That, and Zaka could tell Merek, his new agent. My superior.

“Kelley and I go way back. We were best friends from the moment we met.”

Kelley playfully backhands my chest. “Lies. All lies.” Kelley rubs his chin. “What was it you called me? An egocentric diva?”

Sounds about right. “I don’t recall using those exact words, but yeah, close enough.”

Zaka blinks in surprise. “And you didn’t get fired? If Merek said that to me, I’d walk.”

“Ah, see, but I’m not Kelley’s agent, even though I was sent to babysit him for two weeks over the break.”

“Baby … sit?”

“Do you know he’s addicted to social media?” I say, and I can feel the frustration rolling off Kelley’s shoulders.

“I am not.”

I ignore him. “He really is. He needed two interns to confiscate all his devices. There should really be a player program to help with this kind of thing like they do for drugs and alcohol.”

“Now who’s being dramatic?” Kelley asks.

I glance over at him, and for some reason, even though we’re joking around and he’s protesting everything I say, there’s nothing but fire in his eyes staring back at me.

“That probably explains why he always runs to his phone as soon as we’re off the field,” Zaka says.

My heart skips a beat because … could he be excited to see if I’ve messaged him?

“Zaka lies too. You’re all a bunch of liars. I’m going to go get a drink.”

“Get me one too,” I call after him. He flips me off, but at least I know he heard me. He might even come back with a drink for me. Possibly one with spit in it, but hey, it’s not like we haven’t shared bodily fluids before.

Zaka inches closer to me. “Just a babysitter, huh?”

I break my gaze from Kelley’s retreating ass to make eye contact with Zaka.

He’s this huge, Norwegian-looking guy, and he even makes me feel small, but there’s something in his eyes. Something I can’t completely place. It could be judgment or suspicion, maybe, but he has signed with King Sports, and you don’t do that if you’re a homophobe. Because King Sports is known for repping the most queer athletes of any other—oh. Oh.

What I’m seeing in Zaka’s expression isn’t judgment. It’s interest. But I can’t tell if it’s interest in me or in Kelley.

“Just his babysitter,” I say. “At least, that’s how we met. I’m here as a friend. My folks live in Trenton, so I figured it wasn’t much farther to come see Kelley play.” Why am I making excuses? And why can’t I stop? “I also had to scout at my old high school for players, so you know, two birds, one stone. Type. Umm. Thing.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been this awkward in my life. That old saying, don’t meet your heroes? It’s not because they’re assholes. It’s because you’ll make a fool of yourself.

It’s hard not to think of possible reasons why Zaka hasn’t come out, or maybe I’m reading this completely wrong, but his focus ping-pongs between us. It’s possible he’s only curious or maybe inexperienced, or maybe it’s that before Kelley came out, there hasn’t been an openly queer player in the league for a few years, and Zaka didn’t want to be the one to do it.

Kelley did it.

And now … now Zaka signed with Kelley’s firm?

I’m starting to think I know which one of us he’s interested in.

Jealousy and possessiveness try to make an appearance, but I have to squash them down. This is the first time in months I’ve been able to see Kelley. Zaka is with him every day. They would be a much more convenient couple.

Not that Kelley and I are a couple. Or even on the way to becoming anything that resembles one. This is … sex. Friend sex.

“So, you’re not together, but you’re into each other,” he says.

“Well, I work at King Sports, so I obviously can’t date him or … whatever.”

His light eyebrows shoot up.

“I mean, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Zaka laughs. “Mmmhmm. Sure.”

Kelley hands me over a drink with cute muttering about being disrespected in his own house.

“No idea what I’m talking about.” Zaka raises his glass. “I’m going to need a refill.” He downs the rest of his drink, even though he still has half of it left, and then heads to the bar.

“You two looked locked in a good conversation,” Kelley says. At first, I get excited and think I hear a tone of jealousy in his voice, but then he keeps talking. “Were you trying to get him to choose you to be his assigned intern?”

“Damn it. That would’ve been smart. I actually spent most of the time trying to convince him we aren’t hooking up. I don’t think he bought it. ”

“If we want to get technical, we aren’t hooking up.” He steps closer to me. “Right this second.”

“Let’s make the rounds with your teammates and then get out of here,” I growl.

Kelley’s feet move quickly. He practically says, “Hi everyone, bye everyone,” at each group of teammates and then runs for the exit.

Okay, running might be exaggerating, but he’s really not being subtle.

I should be worried that maybe one of his teammates will say something to someone and it could get back to head office and Damon, but the only person Kelley introduced me to properly was Zaka, and I get the solid impression he’s not going to tell a soul.