Noah jumped to his feet and grabbed the laptop. He skimmed the article faster than I would have been able to, synthesizing and analyzing the text at a speed that was sort of hot. Weird things about Noah turned me on. My attraction had turned into outright infatuation—a fact that he was starting to become very aware of. Danger zone times ten.
“Oh, get the fuck out of here,” he snarled, some of his Queens accent creeping in. “Gavin seems most comfortable around Noah—his personal assistant and a former social worker at an LGBT foundation. How the hell did he know where I worked?”
My brow crashed down. “No clue. Does he say your full name?”
“No, but still. Why does he have to basically mention me being gay?”
“Working at an LGBT foundation doesn’t make someone gay.”
“Oh, thanks, Gavin. I didn’t know that.” Noah gestured with the laptop, causing the screen to nearly swing shut. “The only reason that is worthwhile information to put in is if he wanted to make it clear I’m probably gay.”
He had a point.
“Just keep reading.”
Noah read the next few lines to himself, eyes narrowed with suspicion and distrust. He looked like me when I scanned the publications Mel and Joe were trying to force me to do interviews with—wary and skeptical about their intentions. But he was wary and skeptical for me. There were times when I tried to remind myself that he likely only spent so much time on my dick because I knew how to use it with enough skill to make him blow his load without touching his own, but moments like these made me wonder if he shared my developing . . . something. Whatever it was.
I brushed my lips to the side of his neck, and he brought up a hand to cup my jaw. Didn’t even stop reading. Just returned the touch as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Had anyone ever been like this with me? The answer was a big fat no.
“Several times throughout the afternoon, Gavin talks about how awful he is. The word miserable comes up a lot. Pissy. Grumpy. Disaffected even makes an appearance. For a guy who claims to be of few words, he has a good vocabulary.” Noah snorted. “Despite all of this harping on his own shitty personality and mean-spiritedness, Gavin spends a solid two hours reading fan mail. Ninety percent of the mail he receives is awful. Advice for him to commit suicide, quit the league or at least the Barons. Death threats from fans of rival teams. Insults about him having grown up poor with doubts about his literacy. There are many people who think he’s a witless Neanderthal but still want him to choke-fuck them. He reads all of those out loud without reaction except for a bit of anger at the people who seem to find his lack of family humorous. At one point, Gavin shook his head and looked at me. ‘I get why people don’t like me, but that shit makes me mad. They’re not just insulting me. They’re insulting every kid who grows up in the system. Saying I deserve that means they deserve it too. This is the reason why I don’t fuck with people. I may be a fucking douchebag, but I’m in good company with about ninety percent of humanity.”
Noah wound an arm around my neck and pulled me closer. Protectively. As if he could keep me from seeing the words I’d already read. I kissed his forehead.
“Gavin doesn’t read the nice letters out loud because most of them are from less fortunate kids or teenagers. He says they’re too personal to share with a stranger, which leads us to talking about his recent donation to his old high school’s football program.”
“Can we stop reading this now?” I ask, nosing at him again. “I’m horny.”
“You’re always horny. But this is work for me. Seriously. Just let me read.”
I tried to control myself as he skimmed the rest of the article. The wariness never left his expression, but some tenderness made its way in. He kept smiling and squeezing me, a total sucker for the parts Spence must have put in about me gushing over the kid who’d written me a second letter thanking me for the donation, and wishing I could have come to the school myself.
“‘I’m glad it made him happy,’ Gavin says as he tosses a football into the air. He’s looking at me again, not blinking, but I can’t read his expression. Gavin has one of the most impenetrable faces I’ve ever seen. ‘I expect a lot of people are gonna assume I did it as a publicity stunt. Some shit to make up for me acting like I’m still a nobody from Newark who can fuck up a dude who toes too far out of line. But that’s not what it’s about. I’m glad the kid at least knows that.’ Judging by some of the responses to his contribution, Gavin has a point. A few people are skeptical about his sudden philanthropic gesture. His personal assistant, however, is not one of them. As Gavin goes back to the gym to complete his grueling daily workout regime, Noah leads me out. He’s worried about the interview and it shows in everything from his big blue eyes to his knitted brow. ‘I started out thinking working with Gavin was going to be a nightmare, but it’s not. I just wish other people could get to know him the way I have. Beneath the snarls, sarcasm, and hostility is a good guy. Even if he doesn’t eat Italian bread.’”
I burst out laughing as he set the laptop on the desk again. With the tension easing from his shoulders, I backed him up against the desk and wrapped my arms around him. He was half smiling and didn’t stop me from sliding my tongue into his mouth. It was only his recent plea for me to stop feeling him up while he was working that kept my hands from running all over his body.
“Mmm,” I moaned against his mouth. “How do you expect me to keep my mitts off you when your kisses always feel like invitations to tongue baths and blow jobs?”
“Ha.” Noah planted a hand on my chest and pushed me away. “We should probably kiss less.”
“You gotta deprive me of everything? I love kissing you.” Noah blushed to the roots of his hair, so rosy and pretty that I couldn’t stop grinning. He remained stubbornly silent, and I chucked his chin. “All right. The Vice article wasn’t bad. We can breathe easy. So, what’s your double good news?”
“Oh yeah. First—someone at Under Armour called my father!”
I had a feeling his father loathed me, but my relief was enormous. All I’d done was ask the woman handling the donation whether she could put his résumé in front of some eyeballs, and I’d worried it wouldn’t get far. It wasn’t like anyone at UA owed me a favor. It’d bothered me that I couldn’t do more to help his father out, but Noah liked reminding me that it wasn’t my responsibility. He said it with an edge every time, defensive and unwilling to take a handout, but I could tell he liked that I cared. And that he was surprised that I did.
“That’s awesome.”
“It is. And it’s some kind of regional manager position. If he gets the job, he’d be overseeing multiple stores. It’s like thirty thousand more than he used to make.” Noah rested his hands on my shoulders. “I know you said you didn’t want me to tell him it was you who’d sent in his résumé, but I think you should let me. You giving him those Thanksgiving Day tickets to the game was a step in the right direction towards his trusting you.”