Immoral by Nicole Dykes
“Okay,that was fun and all, but I have a plane to catch.” Jenny pushes her plate away from her and leans back in the chair where we’re all sitting out on Ry’s patio.
The fucked-up thing is, it was actually a fun meal. Jenny’s not so bad when she slightly relaxes. And Waylon really seems to have taken a liking to her.
“I’ll walk you out,” Ry says as he stands up, tossing his napkin on the table. He, however, has been stiff and distant ever since the interview. I know what’s bugging him. It’s not hard to understand his freak-out because I’m freaking out about the same damn thing.
Six month tour.
Six months without Ry. Without being in his bed. Without kissing him. Without . . .
I try to stop my train of thought, considering Waylon is already eyeing me as he chugs his wine and pours some more. Guess he’s taking an Uber back to his hotel tonight. “Out with it.”
“Out with what?” I play coy, taking another drink.
“You two went for it, huh? You gonna give me all the dirty details?”
He waggles his eyebrows at me, and I toss my napkin at him. “Fuck off.”
He laughs. “Clearly, you did it wrong, though, because your boy is awfully tense.”
“Yeah. Well, you didn’t help with your bullshit before the interview. What the fuck, Waylon?”
“Hey.” He holds up his hands defensively. “I’m your manager first and foremost, and it was obvious to me that you’ve fucked. Just looking out for you.”
I know he was, but it still sucked. “Well, you freaked him the hell out.”
He studies me for a moment, and I hate when he does this. Waylon knows me pretty well. “You’re really totally fine with all this, aren’t you?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”
“Pretty sure it would be for most ‘straight’ people.”
I shrug my shoulders and lean back into my chair. “Maybe I was never totally straight. Or maybe I truly don’t give a fuck.” My eyes move toward the glass door that leads into Ryan’s house, and I see no sign of Ry. I turn back to Waylon. “Maybe it’s just him. And always has been.”
He clutches his heart, being an asshole. “That is the cutest thing.”
“Fuck. Off.” But I’m smiling.
He laughs. “Is he on board with this thought?”
He seemed pretty on board last night when my cock was in his ass, but I don’t say that out loud. “I’m pretty sure.”
A crease forms on his otherwise wrinkle-free forehead. “Pretty sure is not okay. You need to both be sure sure.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? He’s gay.”
“He may be gay, but he’s not out. And he’s an athlete.” This is nothing new to me, but Waylon continues, “Trust me on this, nothing hurts more than thinking someone loves you and you’re on the same page, only to find out you weren’t. Not at all.”
That’s cryptic as fuck. Especially for Waylon. “What the hell does that mean?”
He sighs heavily and looks out at the pool. “It means, you need to talk. Find out what you both want from this. Your world . . . if you guys are outed somehow, we could probably work around it. But his?” He shakes his head. “Trust me. His world is different.”
“Pretty sure my label would freak the fuck out.”
He chuckles at that and finishes off another drink. “No doubt. Please be careful, but still, I could spin it.”
“We aren’t planning anything. We’re just . . .”
“Winging it? Playing it the Grady Bell way?”
Well fuck, that’s creepy. “Were you watching us last night?”
He stands up from his seat, a little wobbly. “I wouldn’t object to watching. But no. I just know you. Act first, think later. You can’t do that.”
I know he’s right, but today has really fucked with my head enough already. “I know I want Ry. And I’ll take him however I can get him.”
That brings a surprised smile to his face. “Good. Be happy. Do your thing, and I’ll run interference. But if you two decide to come out, please run it by me first.”
“Promise.”
He slaps my shoulder. “Time for me to go.”
He starts to leave, but I have to ask. “Hey, Waylon?”
He turns toward me. “Yeah?”
“Did someone hurt you?”
He laughs, but it’s sad and distant. “It was a long time ago. You know me.” He forces a smile. “I always bounce back.”
With that, he turns toward the door and heads inside to call his Uber. I want to know more because he’s really the best friend I’ve had lately, but I don’t want to pry. I saw the pain in his eyes. Clearly, he’s been hurt by someone. Maybe someone he thought would come out for him and didn’t. Nothing stings worse than betrayal.
I drag my hand over my jaw, feeling shaken and unsettled by the day.
Ryan and I definitely need to talk.
