Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

Owen

" Y our phone is ringing," Colin calls from the kitchen.

"I doubt it. Only Oliver calls me, and he's still annoyed at us for moving, even though he asked us to." Maybe I'm still annoyed by the entire thing.

"It's yours." Colin walks in, holding out my phone.

"Who is it?" I ask, wrinkling my nose at it. I hate answering the phone.

"I don't know." Colin flips it around, looking at the screen. "Looks like an unknown number."

"I'll have to tell Oliver. He pays for a service that screens all our phone calls for spam before they even come to us."

We still weren't used to living with each other's boundaries, and routines, which made every interaction a bit stiff. I can only imagine it's like moving into a dorm freshman year with a stranger for a roommate. How did people live like this?

Two years.

And it wasn't all bad.

Colin grew on me every day.

I like him. I'd call us friends. I don't have many of those, so it's weird to settle into that too.

"That's a thing?" Colin blinks, and his mouth drops open. "Is that why my calls don't go through to you?"

"What?"

"My calls. They are always sent straight to voicemail. I even checked your phone to see if you had me blocked." He tosses the phone at me.

"Fucking Oliver. I bet he has something to do with it." I would have to figure out how to set it up myself without calling them, or really having to talk to any human. I hate talking on the phone.

I pick up my phone to send my brother a text when a voicemail clicks through. I click to read the transcription of it, but my phone starts ringing again.

"It's calling me again and the beginning of the voicemail said it was the National team coach, but I couldn't see the rest of the message." I meet his eyes, turning my phone around to show him.

"Answer it." Colin gets closer, looking at the screen.

"Why? Why would the national team coach be calling me?"

Colin grabs at my phone, but I send it to voicemail.

"I need to think about it before I'm put on the spot," I say when he crosses his arms.

"What else were you going to do with your time?" Colin asks. "You're graduated, and Oliver is working with your dad. You're not taking a job at his firm, are you?"

I cringe. "No. I'm going to take a year off to question every choice I've ever made," I say without hesitation.

"Maybe spending that much time alone without a job or school isn't such a good idea."

"It sounds wonderful to me." I'm not ready to say he might be right.

"Can you really say no to the national team?"

"Isn't that how consent works?"

Colin presses his lips into a line. "Don't make me call Oliver."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Watch me." He whips his phone out.

I growl, getting up to grab it. He tries to keep it, but I shove it into my pocket.

"If you think I won't put my hands in your pants, you're wrong." Colin puts his hands on his hips.

I square up to him. "Not until we've talked."

"So if I talk to you first, then you'll let me stick my hands in your pants?"

"In my pocket," I clarify.

"Close enough." His tone stirs something in my chest.

"Why do you think I should do this?" I reach into every communication skill I've learned from my therapist.

Colin's expression changes. "I think it would be good for you. You're good, and I think you enjoy it as much as Oliver does." Does he see through me so easily?

"I do enjoy it, but I don't know these people, and I'll have to go to their training facility and…" I trail off when I see Colin's expression. "What?"

"So? You have a private jet. I can—" Colin cuts himself off.

"What were you going to say?"

"I was going to say that I could travel to see you and come visit on the weekends." He avoids my eyes.

I smile. It's weird and makes my cheeks hurt. "That's a lot of work with school, and I know how you like to go out on the weekends."

"I want to support you. Even if you're only my fake husband." He smiles too, but it's softer. More reserved.

"Support isn't flying out all the time. That's a lot."

He lifts a shoulder. "To me, that's support."

"I'll call him back."

Colin puts out his hands and wiggles his fingers. I roll my eyes but lift my arms, leaving my silk pajama pants open to him.

He doesn't move right away. "It feels like Christmas."

"Now or you're losing it."

He brushes his fingertips along the waistline of my pants before coming down to slip his hand into my pocket. He steps closer until our chests are touching. He pushes his hand deeper, pulling the silk to brush over my dick. I harden halfway, and for some reason how it felt when he held me that day after my panic attack comes to mind.

Is my body missing human contact?

How inconvenient and rude would that be? Fucking human needs.

I look into his baby blue eyes and his grin widens. "I feel your pants pulling tighter."

"You expect to pull silk over my cock repeatedly and me not get half hard?" My words come breathless as he yanks my pants again, rubbing them over my dick blatantly. A groan slips past my lips.

Colin cocks his head.

"Don't read into it," I say, not sure if I even mean it.

"But you aren't asking me to stop." He's right.

I haven't, and I don't know why. "I'm waiting for you to get your phone."

"And not complaining about my teasing." Colin catches his lip between his teeth and shifts, brushing his fingertips over my cock, only the thin silk inside of my pocket separating us.

We both draw in a breath.

"I could—" Colin starts.

I cut him off. "I have to call the coach back."

He retrieves his phone, and I step back in a hurry.

I'm dialing the number before I let myself think about any of what happened. I don't have room to process any of it or why I'm letting my fake husband push all my buttons.

"Hello?" Coach Ryker answers.

"Hi, this is Owen returning your call."

"Owen! So happy to hear from you. I'm sure you can guess why I'm calling."

"Er— your message said…"

"Right, right! It's been a long day of these. Here at Team USA, we'd like to offer you a spot to fence on the national team this year. You've been on our short list for a long time…"

What?

He can't be serious. I know I fence at an elite level, but really?

I realize he's still talking and try to pay attention.

"—so we'd love to have you come out to the facility and get to know everyone," Coach Ryker finishes.

Fuck.

What do I say when I have no idea what he's asking? Fuck my life.

"Sure. I'd love to."

"Great. I'll have my assistant coach reach out to arrange all the details. We are happy to have you on the team, Owen."

We got off the phone and I turn toward Colin. "Don't say it."

"What happened to asking questions?" Colin asks, a laugh creeping into his voice.

"I panicked and blanked out."

"That tracks."

"I need a nap," I say, quickly exiting the room so I can go jack off and contemplate why I let him talk me into this.

Three days later, I learned how big a mistake I made.