Why was he talking to me? I didn’t understand. I’d tried, for the past two hours, to keep myself occupied enough to not have to be in the game room with Marcus, Simeon, and Gavin, but the auburn-haired quarterback had come hunting me down.
Simeon Boudreaux, one of the highest paid players in the NFL, had hunted me down. And he was now leaning across the kitchen bar in all of his bronze-skinned, hazel-eyed, curly-haired glory, giving me the biggest shit-eating grin I’d ever seen in my life. His looks, combined with his accent, were already enough to make him a distraction—not that Marcus was easy to ignore, with his lean, muscular body, flawless dark skin, and long dreads—but why the hell was he talking to me? I was nobody.
“No. No one has ever said that.”
Simeon looked me up and down much the way Gavin did at least twice a day but without the judgment and scorn. In fact, it was an eyefuck. A blatant eyefuck. Simeon Boudreaux was eyefucking me. And since Marcus and Gavin had followed him down into the kitchen, they were watching it happen. Well, Gavin was watching it happen. Marcus was standing in front of the fridge.
“You ever see those gay pulp magazines that were takes on comic books?”
“No . . .”
Simeon propped his elbows up on the bar and leaned forward more, grinning bigger. “Well, I did. And they had all kinds of erotic scenes of Superman getting gangbanged by villains and whatnot. Also twink, big-booty Clark Kent.”
I looked at Gavin, who was staring stonily at his best friend, and then at Marcus, whose shoulders were shaking with laughter.
“Are you trying to get me to admit I read gay porn comics so you can humiliate me? Because I’m pretty sure this was the plot of a Degrassi episode.”
“What’s Degrassi?”
I shook my head. “Never mind. No. I’ve never read comics of Clark Kent with a big booty. And no, I don’t look like Clark Kent.”
“You sure as fuck do.” Simeon jerked his head at Gavin. “Brawley agrees. Clark Kent with the dick-sucking lips. That’s what we—”
“Simeon.” Gavin’s voice was a thunderclap in the room. “Shut the fuck up before I get really pissed off.”
My shoulders went tense at the harsh words and the rough tone, but Simeon just rolled his eyes and leaned closer to me.
“You ever noticed that G is a little touchy?”
He called Gavin “G” and Marcus called him “Gav.” It was weird to realize Gavin had nicknames. Just like it was weird to acknowledge he had friends this close.
“I noticed he knows you two well enough to have written me a grocery list filled with your favorites.”
“Sure as hell does.” Marcus turned back to us, brandishing a tub of Ben and Jerry’s. “Good looks, man.”
Gavin shrugged, clearly not ready to admit he was capable of being thoughtful or caring about the lives of others.
“G used to stay with us,” Simeon said. “We met in training camp back when we was all rookies.”
“Don’t be acting like your ass didn’t start playing for the Predators first,” Marcus said around his spoon. “That’s why they hate you now.”
Simeon waved him off. “Feeling’s mutual.”
“I can’t picture any of you being on the bench,” I admitted. “I’m not a huge football fan, but even I know who you are.”
Gavin’s cool, unfriendly stare shifted from Simeon to me.
“Oh, reeeally?” Simeon’s face lit up. “What you know about me? Tell me everything.”
“Oh Lord,” Marcus groaned. “You got him started. Here we go.”
“Er, I know you’re a quarterback. There was a cute Buzzfeed article about you and your dog. And your name tends to come up when me and my friend are watching TMZ.” I tried to think of one of the more embarrassing stories I’d heard. “You get linked to models and actresses a lot.”
“All lies,” he said airily. “Even the dog thing. That dog belongs to Marcus, and he stays eating my shit.”
I couldn’t help a laugh. How was he so normal and easy to talk to? “Really? I heard you had an affair with Leonardo DiCaprio’s girlfriend.”
Simeon’s smile got bigger and more sharklike. “Nope. I’m more likely to have fucked Leo. Or been fucked by Leo, ya heard?”
This time, my mouth fell open.
Marcus dropped his spoon, and Gavin sat up straight.
“Simeon, you are such an idiot,” he snapped at the same time as Marcus said, “Seriously, Simeon? After all this shit?”
I looked between them, blinking.
“What? Y’all done told me he signed a confidentiality agreement!” Simeon huffed out a big sigh. “Besides, he’s a gay social-justice warrior. Safer than a titanium condom.”
“Uh . . . I wouldn’t—” I started to say.
“I know he’s safe, but you don’t. You didn’t even hesitate.” Gavin got to his feet, cutting me off. “I can’t believe you.”
What even was happening?
“It’s my business,” Simeon said, a defensive edge creeping into his tone. “And my life. Just because of one bad incident, you won’t see me going around hiding and ducking and never talking to another guy. What if I wanted to ask Noah out on a date? Can’t do that without letting the gay cat out of the rainbow bag.”
“You’re not asking Noah out on a date,” Gavin growled.
“Why not?” Simeon glanced at me again, batting his long lashes. “Don’t you think I’m pretty?”
“Very pretty. But—” I looked between them again. “I would never out anyone. Believe me. And I don’t know how this works, but I’ll sign anything you want stating you can sue me, or whatever, if I let the . . . gay cat out of the rainbow bag.”
Simeon hopped off the bar stool and came around to my side of the bar. He threw a powerful arm around my shoulders and jerked me against him. “See? Perfectly trustworthy. You should have more faith in your staff, Gavin.”
“It’s not about Noah. I know I can trust him.” Even as Gavin said it, his gaze dropped to Simeon’s arm around me. His frown deepened. “It’s about how careless you are, and how you don’t give a second thought to any of the dumbass shit you do.”
“I gotta back Gavin up on this one, man.” Marcus had washed his spoon and was tucking into his ice cream again. He plopped down at the table next to Gavin. “And you can’t act like Gav doesn’t have a vested interest after what happened.”
I desperately wanted to ask what had happened. Why were they acting like Simeon had to explain his choices to either of them? My first response was to think they should mind their own damn business. If the hot quarterback wanted to flirt with me, he could and should. And if he didn’t want to live in the closet when in privacy, he shouldn’t have to.
But there was clearly more to the story. And it was none of my business. I was just “staff.” This conversation was out of my lane, and I wasn’t about to demand details about the closeted life of one of the nation’s most famous football players. I’d never even heard an indication that Simeon Boudreaux may be gay, so the secret was airtight.
“Okay, fine,” Simeon said, squeezing me tighter to his side. “I get it. But you assholes are acting like I be willy-nilly outing myself.”
“Only when you wanna fuck someone,” Marcus said.
“Yeah!”