Page 33 of Trick Play (Playing the Field #4)

CHAPTER

THIRTY-TWO

Zeke

Now

Jessica: Who is this? I’ve filtered several questions about the number of times he shows up on your posts, but with more scrutiny coming from your recent outings with Gael, I need to know who he is and why you’re always together.

Below my agent’s text is the picture of Micah and me kissing outside the animal shelter last week. We’re wrapped in each other’s arms, our lips locked in an intense kiss that has never before been featured on my socials. Something about it was too perfect to let it go to waste or to retake knowing no one would ever get to see this passionate kiss between us. With my playboy status coming to an end, I want the whole world to see. I want everyone to know that I kiss Micah differently than anyone else.

My agent, however, does not seem too happy about that, especially since she and Gael’s agent have concocted some conspiracy to have us married by the end of the year. Gael and I have been on several “outings” since we filmed that commercial together, and the press has eaten it up. I’m under more scrutiny than usual. Over the last few weeks, Gael and I have been hounded by paparazzi, whether we’re on an outing together or separately minding our own business around town. Each and every one has asked to know more about our “budding relationship.”

Me: He’s a friend.

Jessica: Yeah, that’s not going to work. I need a name. Career. Parents. Criminal record. Dating history.

Me: Why?

She’s never had to deep dive into someone near me before. Though, to be fair, my other friends are all either current or retired NFL players. Their lives are already pretty public. Micah’s isn’t. Back when we were dating, we’d kept things secretive so the media wouldn’t have a field day with a breaking story about the NFL playboy being tied down. I hadn’t wanted Micah to have to face the paparazzi like I constantly do.

In response to my question, Jess simply sends me a link to a local, obscure sports gossip blog. When I click on it, the web page loads with the picture Jess sent to me earlier. The headline reads, “The same mystery man has been photographed kissing NFL star Ezekiel ‘Kiss’ Aleks how many times? The answer will surprise you.”

I scroll curiously through the article filled with many of our other kissing pictures, and while the answer is surprising, it also isn’t. I know I’ve kissed him a lot, but this is the first time I’ve seen anyone put two and two together that he is a recurring feature on my posts. Luckily, they only seem to focus on the number of times rather than the mystery behind the man, and it’s a small blog, so hopefully, this won’t gain much traction.

Groaning, I type out a response to my probably fuming agent.

Me: His name is Micah. He was Hendrix’s college roommate and best friend, and now he’s friends with Rix, Gin, and me. His parents are kind people living on a quiet estate in Salt Lake City with old family money from the oil business, I think. He works for the company contracted with the NFL to make the graphic designs for the televised game broadcasts. Actually, he’s going to that awards banquet to represent his employer, so it will be nice having someone there who I know. No criminal record, and as far as dating goes?—

I pause, overcome with the sudden urge to tell her all about how he and I tried dating, but it didn’t work out, though I would really, really, really like to try again.

—he’s gay and swore off dating before we ever met. We’re friends. Sometimes we hook up, but that’s it. He probably doesn’t want all his information out there for everyone to pick through.

Of course, her reply comes quickly. That woman is glued to her phone.

Jessica: Understood. I’ll leave out personal details and that tidbit about you two hooking up. Don’t want to take away from Gael’s spotlight!

Jessica: Speaking of the banquet, can I confirm with Gael’s agent that you two will be attending together? They’re down to go with you. I told you I could get anyone ;)

I can’t help the groan that falls past my lips. She has been asking nonstop, but I just can’t commit to taking anyone. My mind has been running constant fantasies about showing up stag, finding Micah in the crowd, and sweeping him off his feet to . . . do something. Will there be a dance floor? I have no idea how to ballroom dance, and I don’t know if Micah can either. He has moves, that’s for sure. I’ve seen him give a lap dance to one of my teammates as a joke, and it was sexy as hell. Not to mention, he has that pole in his bedroom . . . Mm. I wonder what he looks like spinning around on it, wearing nothing but his lacy lingerie. Fuck, or a skirt. That would be?—

“Dude, are you dying or something?”

“Huh?” Jerking my face from my phone and my head from my daydreams, I meet Tahegin’s concerned gaze. He’s sitting with Hendrix on the other couch, a movie—now paused—on the TV. They’d come over earlier this evening after Micah had turned me down for a booty call. Really, I just wanted to see him, but with this stupid arrangement, I have to use sex as an excuse. Unfortunately, he already had plans. Not feeling like being alone, I’d text Tahegin to come hang out. Hendrix is attached at Gin’s hip, so of course he came as well. I don’t mind the company.

“You’ve been groaning for the last five minutes. I can’t tell if you’re talking to your agent or sexting.”

“My agent,” I confirm in a tone that hopefully explains how much I’d rather be doing anything else. “She’s trying to confirm if I’ll bring Gael as my date to the NFL behind-the-scenes awards banquet.”

Beside my best friend, the usually quiet Hendrix makes a soft “Hmph.”

Tahegin cocks his head curiously at me. “You don’t want to? I thought you liked Gael.”

I sigh, not wanting to get into that whole mess. Gael has been pretty relentless in their pursuit of me, and I’ve nearly run out of nice ways to turn them down. Me, the self-proclaimed playboy, turning down a famous actor while pining after a man I’ve already been told I can’t have. “They’re nice, but . . . God, I keep having this stupid idea of bringing Micah as my date. I know having him there would make it actually enjoyable.”

Hendrix lets out a soft “Hm.” I continue to ignore his weird noises.

“Why can’t you take him?” Tahegin asks.

“He’s attending with his boss to represent their company.”

“Wait, he’s going with David ?” he exclaims.

Shooting him a curious look at his outburst, I respond, “Yeah, I think that’s his name.”

His jaw drops, and he whips around to stare at Hendrix. “Micah is going to a banquet with Creepy David?”

Rix winces, taking a sip of his beer. “Micah doesn’t like that you call him that.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to call him? The guy’s a creep.”

“What do you mean?” I interject to ask because I haven’t heard anything about this David guy being creepy.

Tahegin, of course, continues as if he doesn’t hear me. “Hendrix. Did Micah tell you he was going to this banquet with Creepy David?”

Looking down, Rix fiddles with the label on his beer bottle. “Mhm.”

“Was David creepy when he asked Micah to go?”

He gives a higher-pitched “Eh” and a so-so gesture.

“Does Micah want to go with Creepy David?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Oh. So Kiss should . . .”

“Mm.”

“Are you sure he would want?—”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay.” Tahegin shrugs like it’s as simple as that, looking up at me with blue eyes wide open and alight with mischief. “See if Jessica can get Micah as your plus-one.”

I don’t even bother to try to hide the befuddled expression on my face. “I’m sorry—what? You and Hendrix just had a whole conversation where you spoke in half-assed or unfinished questions, and he responded with grunts and noises, and somehow, you understood all of that?”

“Um, yes?” He at least has the courtesy to look sheepish about it. “I’m fluent in Hendrix now, didn’t you know?”

“I guess not. Can you tell me what you guys just talked about? And why you call him Creepy David?”

“Right, so. It all started when Micah went for his interview . . .” Tahegin begins. He tells me about David’s reaction to seeing Micah, the drool and wandering eyes and the whole nine yards. At first, I sympathize with the guy. Micah is so gorgeous, it’s unreal. He puts literal movie stars to shame. Seriously. Gael Knox can’t hold a candle to Micah’s anything . Not his looks, kind heart, incredible fashion sense, unique hair colors, or warm, comforting personality. God, and Micah’s ass? I don’t blame David for being a little starstruck in the beginning.

The problem, however, comes when David apparently can’t figure out what appropriate behavior is in the workplace. Not only has Micah been restricted to what he wears so as not to attract too much attention from the guy, but Creepy David also makes comments on the edge of unprofessional about Micah’s looks and tries to enact favoritism that Micah clearly doesn’t want. He constantly grants Micah extra time off he doesn’t ask for, tells him to use the company card to buy himself “something nice,” spam-likes Micah’s social media pictures late at night, and tells him the next day at work how much he enjoyed seeing Micah’s pictures online. And they aren’t even friends on any social media platforms.

Creepy David told Micah he was invited to represent their company because of the way he looks, not because he earned it. Micah seems to think there is another employee better suited to attend the banquet due to them constantly going above and beyond.

The last straw for me is when Hendrix tells us what happened on the cruise. How, when Creepy David saw me in Micah’s room, he tried to assign Micah an extra bullshit assignment because he was jealous. That had been what Micah was venting to Hendrix about the morning Gin and I were shunned to the balcony.

“What the fuck?” I question once story time is over. “Why is Micah still working for this guy? Why hasn’t he reported him to HR yet?”

“Creepy David hasn’t done anything reportable yet.” Tahegin huffs and rolls his eyes. “Stupid loopholes. The guy knows how to get around the rules.”

“Then Micah needs to quit. Find a new job. We can help him—” I cut myself off, realizing something as Hendrix and Tahegin send me matching looks. “This is why Micah didn’t tell me about Creepy David, isn’t it? I’d try to meddle.”

“If it helps, he only told Hendrix. Rix told me.”

“I don’t know if it does.”

“Well,” Tahegin says, clearly ready to move on. “Hendrix seems to think it would be a good idea to pull some strings and get Jessica to have Micah be your date to the banquet.”

I gnaw on my lip, mulling it over. “Will Micah be okay with that? I don’t want to overstep.”

“I think he’ll appreciate the gesture,” Hendrix grants us with his wisdom. After all, Micah is his best friend, and he has known him the longest out of all of us. “And I think he will be pleasantly relieved to not have to attend with David. Right now, he feels trapped. Like if he tells David to back off, things could get hostile. I’m pretty sure he’s considering alternative work options. I’d rather he explore that on his own time than be put in a situation where he could be forced to do something drastic.”

Basically, he’s treading carefully and slowly moving on instead of confronting David and potentially being retaliated against or harassed.

Yeah. I definitely prefer the route where Micah comes out unharmed and not traumatized.

Whipping out my phone, I finally respond to my—probably freaking out—agent.

Me: You say you can get anyone, so how about a real test? I want Micah as my date to the banquet. Can you poach him from the company he’s supposed to be representing?

As always, her response is immediate.

Jessica: Of course I can. I’m me.

Jessica: But if you take Micah as your date, the media will swarm. We can swing the idea that you’re just friends, but that doesn’t guarantee the tabloids won’t run wild with a potential romance.

Is that okay? It’s one outing at an underappreciated awards banquet, so I can’t imagine who I take as my date will be of any consequence. Even if it is, would it be so bad for people to think Micah and I are dating?

Not for me, it wouldn’t. And maybe, just maybe, if others accepted the idea that Micah and I are dating, then he would, too.

It’s a long shot, but I think it’s one I’m willing to take.

Feeling more confident than I have any right to be, I send my reply.

Me: Work your magic.