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“What did you think I’d be like?”

“Mostly a jock who wouldn’t bother with me and would send his assistant to have conversations about the boys. I realized a few minutes into the interview that you cared a lot more about who they spend their time with. Hell, even the fact that you interviewed me yourself said a lot.” He lets out the smallest chuckle known to man, but I call that progress, so I play it up a bit, and smile smugly down at him in case he looks up.

“I’ve been exceeding expectations all my life.”

Again, he snorts like what I said was actually funny.

It’s a nice feeling.

“Speaking of . . .” He trails off, and I feel him shift. Instead of continuing, he takes a deep breath, then rises to lean on his elbow and looks right at me with no humor whatsoever.

“We’re not going to tell anyone about this, okay?”

He’s not really asking, I understand that at least.

“Okay.” I agree easily because I understand why he brought that up, and for the most part I’m pretty sure I’m on the same page. “But Wes is going to figure it out the next time he sees us in the same room. He’s a perceptive bastard.” I hope he can hear the pride hiding behind my words. “He knows my tells better than anyone. I’ve never been able to hide anything from him.”

Sunny tilts his head, showing immediately that he’s interested, or maybe he’s avoiding the elephant in the room. “How long has he been your bodyguard?”

I have no problem following his lead.

“Five years. When I got control of my trust fund, Jim told me it was my job to pay for security, and I knew I had to do it because even in school I got death threats from fans, mostly other teams’ fans, but some of our own too.”

“God, Tucker, that’s awful.”

I’ve been desensitized by all of that for a while, so it always startles me when someone finds out and doesn’t shrug it off.

“It’s part of this life. And I can’t complain about any of it. I don’t have the right to.”

Sunny’s quiet for a bit and sighs.

“I have no idea what it’s like to grow up with so much money and so little emotional support from your parents. I don’t know what it’s like for you now, to have so much money, power, and influence. But I can swear to you now that if you ever do want to complain about any of it, I’ll try my best to put myself in your shoes, and you can complain all you want to me. I will never tell you you don’t have the right to complain.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice rough with unexpected emotion.

“Of course,” he whispers back, then sits up and crosses his legs. “So, back to Wes.”

I lean up on my elbows to shake off whatever that was and nod. “Right. I asked Jim’s bodyguard for his agency’s number and interviewed a few guys. But I chose Wes in the end because he’s only a few years older than me. He did his four years in the army and then wanted to come home to his family. His brother got married and had babies while he was deployed and he didn’t want to miss anything more.”

“That makes sense,” he says absentmindedly, his gaze stuck on my lips so intently I smirk automatically.

“I liked what we did.” I decide to come out and say it. He’s put some space between us already and I don’t want to leave any of it unsaid—that always brings trouble. “I liked being able to help you after, of course, but I like kissing you, touching you, making you feel good. I hope you know that I’m not ever going to do something that makes you uncomfortable, at least not intentionally, but I do know that we haven’t known each other long and it’s logical for you not to fully trust me yet. That being said, you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone unless you say it’s okay. I get that this could be a . . .” I pause to search for the right word, but even when I find one, it doesn’t feel totally right. “This could be a delicate situation, but all I want is to make you feel good and feel good with you.”

“It did feel good.” There’s the barest hint of a smile, but I take it as the win it is.

“Well, I am exceptionally good at giving head,” I tease, and sit up fully so we’re just that little bit closer.

“Hey, I am too!” he protests, and my smirk blooms.

“Yeah, you are.”

There’s one silent moment, and then we laugh.

We laugh like a valve that’s been holding on for too long releasing. It dies down naturally, without any thoughts interrupting the moment of simple joy.

And then the Sunny I believe is the real one is the only one sitting in front of me. His eyes are wide and intent on me as he tilts his head just a little.

“So, you’re not straight.” He says it like a statement, but I recognize the question.