Page 181 of For the Fans

I pull a deep inhale, letting it out as a sigh of sorrow. “Yea, probably.”

“How did that happen, Av?” she asks, not prying, or judging, or even looking for details. She’s just asking the question, and I don’t blame her.

To the outside world, Kyran and I were just stepbrothers who hate each other. No one else knows what’s been going on these past few months. Not even Frankie, who thought we were just fucking for the money.

The fans watched the real stuff happen… the looks and the touches and the partsbetweenthe sex. They saw somethingmore. But even they didn’t see the last few days…

Christmakkah, the drive-in… pretty much everything leading up to an hour ago.

No one else saw me falling in love with him…

“It turned into more,” I whisper. “I guess we peeled back some layers or something, and it just… I don’t know. It changed.”

Frankie shifts on the couch. “I’m gonna say something… and you might get pissed at me for it, but whatever. Do your worst,” she says firmly. “Nothingchanged, Avi. You and Kyran have had chemistry from the fucking start. I saw it. The fans saw it. That’s what had them begging for you two to get together. People can play-act hot sex all they want, with rehearsed moves, special lighting, and camera work in fancy locations… Giving theappearanceof real passion. But you two had something no one in this whole online sex-work game has…”

I roll my head in her direction, lifting my brows in wait.

“You actually fuckingwanteach other,” she says. “For real. It wasn’t an act between you two. It never was… Not even close. Whether you claim you hated each other is irrelevant. You never actually did.”

I’m staring at her for several heavy seconds, my lips parting while my limbs shake. I have no real words to say other than the obvious…I do love him.

I have no idea how it happened, but it did, and now I just want him back.

But before any of it can come out, the sound of keys jingling in the door pulls our attention to the right. It swings open, and in stalks a tall dude with dark hair and a vaguely familiar face, carrying a duffel bag.

He steps inside, drops the bag with a thunk, and tilts his head at us. “I’m your roommate… Ash Holloway.” We’re both just gawking at him. And he grins. “Sorry I’m late.”

i.throw.a.frisbee01: you both are so cute together btw what size are you? My mouth would be the perfect fit.

BoozyBaby: I would give anything for someone to look at me the way Backwardz_Cap looks at you Not_Your_Baby.

The Eagles are going to thefuckingRose Bowl.

Last night, we played our final playoff game of the season against Ohio State. And wewon…

Barely.

It was one of the worst games I’ve played in my life. We were down for most of it, and let’s just say, it was mainly my fault. I couldn’t focus. I was scattered, torn-up, distracted and just off. As Austin Powers would say, I’d lost mymojo.

The defense and our running backs carried the game well into the third quarter, and Coach was fucking irate. He’s never screamed at me the way he did last night… I thought the vein in his forehead was going to pop.

Our defensive players really showed their skills, keeping the Buckeyes’s scoring down as best they could. By the fourth quarter, we were trailing them by two touchdowns and a field goal. That was when Guty stepped in.

We’d just recovered the ball from an interception thrown by Ohio’s QB. We were on their twenty-five-yard line when Coach called a timeout, and Guty grabbed me pretty much by the scruff of my neck.

“Kyran, listen to me.” He got in close to my face, somehow whispering and shouting at the same time. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but it ends now, you got it?? You have cometoo farto lose this because of some funk. Whatever’s got you all fucked up, just set it aside and focus on doing you.”

I could barely breathe, I was so overwhelmed. Every single thing was weighing on me, like brick and mortar being stacked right on top of my shoulders. The insecurities I spend all day every day stuffing down were coming up my throat and out of my pores.

You’re not good enough.

You’re weak. You’re worthless.

You’re scared.

Thisis the real you… Not the superstar they see on the outside.

You’re a pathetic, broken little failure…