It’s been two years since we met, two months since we broke up, and two days since we last hooked up.
Zeke
I’m known as the playboy of the NFL, promiscuous because of how many people—friends, strangers, fans—I’m photographed kissing for attention. Never mind the fact that my pictures help raise money for charities and distract the media vultures from other athletes’ personal lives. No one sees the good I do, how I help people by sacrificing my personal life. No one, that is, except Micah, the man who captured my heart nearly two years ago.
Since accidentally creating a queer and allies...
It’s been two years since we met, two months since we broke up, and two days since we last hooked up.
Zeke
I’m known as the playboy of the NFL, promiscuous because of how many people—friends, strangers, fans—I’m photographed kissing for attention. Never mind the fact that my pictures help raise money for charities and distract the media vultures from other athletes’ personal lives. No one sees the good I do, how I help people by sacrificing my personal life. No one, that is, except Micah, the man who captured my heart nearly two years ago.
Since accidentally creating a queer and allies group for NFL players and partners and declaring an intent to overturn the league’s new invasive rule regarding players’ dating lives, it’s time to prove I’m not the irresponsible playboy everything thinks I am, but the only person I know to turn to is the one who suggested we break up and only be friends with benefits.
I’ve been trying to figure out how to convince Micah to give our relationship another shot. Maybe recreating my image will be just the thing to prove to him that I’m ready to settle down—with him.
Micah
My life is a mess.
I hate my day job, can’t tell anyone about my night job, and I fell for a playboy. Then, because I’m a glutton for punishment, I even tried to date the aforementioned playboy, and when we ultimately broke up, it wasn’t even his fault—it was mine.
I couldn’t admit why I spent my nights out instead of in bed beside him. If I did tell, he’d leave for good. So, much to my heart’s dismay, I convinced Zeke that we could break up but remain hooking up without feelings. I keep telling myself that I’d rather have him like this than lose him entirely. That I’m satisfied with our arrangement—but I’m not. I want to be with him, and I know he wants to be with me, but we’re stuck, unmoving, because I can’t be completely honest with him.
Between a job I should love but hate, a job I should hate but love, and the man who holds my heart in his hands, I’m running ragged.
