We left the gym separately to avoid potential paparazzi, but I was almost positive the lady at the front desk was the gossip mole. She’d definitely not missed the way Val had stared me down during check-in, and she looked thrilled once we came downstairs looking flushed and hazy eyed. It didn’t help that Val kept touching me.
All of a sudden, his hands were magnetized to my body. As I signed out, he rubbed my shoulders, brushed hair away from my face, and seemed generally incapable of staying away. It was really bad for keeping a low profile, but it did magnificent things to my recently battered heart. I hoped with all fingers crossed in fake prayer that this brief surge of adoration and affection wouldn’t fade as soon as we hit another snag. Like a run-in with that guy, Bronson, or . . . even Val seeing the gossip blogs. I was sure at least one of them had published pictures of the disastrous night at the Standard.
“What are you doing today?” I asked once we met up again farther down Walton Avenue. “Do you work?”
“No, I keep weekends open. Especially Sundays. Habit my mother got me into.”
Val had shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, but he was walking close enough for our arms to brush. A shiver went through me, and it had nothing to do with the unseasonably brisk wind. I wanted to cuddle up to him, but no matter which neighborhood we were in, there was no chance of us touching each other without undue attention. In Manhattan, there was more of a chance of photogs. Here, there was more of a chance of bringing Val’s sexuality to the attention of everyone in his neighborhood. I didn’t know if he was truly worried about violence if he was outed or if it was a mix of that and potentially ruining the warm rapport he had with the other people in his neighborhood. The bustle of the Upper West Side kept me from really considering anyone a neighbor, but Val had greeted three people within the few blocks we’d already walked. He said I didn’t fit in here, but it was so much like a real community that I sort of wished I could.
“Do you want to go anywhere?” I asked after we crossed the Grand Concourse.
“No. I want you to stay here.” At my questioning look, Val hurried on, “But we can go back to your place if you want. It’s nicer.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Don’t be weird.”
“How am I being weird?”
“Seriously, Val? My place is nicer?” I snickered. “One blowjob and you’re so full of chivalry.”
His cheeks went ruddy. “Shut up.”
“Aw, babes, I’m kidding. It’s sweet.”
“I always ask your preferences on stuff,” he muttered. “Just trying to be considerate.”
“You’re the most considerate. So considerate that I will reward you for being such a gentleman.” I paused at the curb and pointed toward C-Town. Well, the potential direction of C-Town. I had no idea where I was. “Name something you want to eat, and I’ll cook it! Or figure out how.”
“Anything?”
“Anything,” I said. “And then you can reward me after eating. That’s how this works, right? Like, um, continuous exchange of rewards and favors.”
“I dunno what the this is that you’re referring to,” Val said.
“Um . . . Whatever it is that we’re doing?” This time, it was my face turning red. Why had I brought this up? Gym sex turned me into an overexcited and gibbering idiot. “Fooling around with my favorite person. That.” Val stared at me, and somehow I felt like it was the wrong thing to say. I looked around for help, made eye contact with a teenage boy wearing ginormous Beats headphones. He took one look at me and crossed the street. “Throw me a bone, Valdrin. What do you want me to say?”
Val strode toward C-Town with me hot on his heels. “Nothing. Call it whatever you wanna call it.”
I grabbed his arm and dragged him to a stop. We wound up standing in the exact spot where he’d parked the night before. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
He sighed and looked everywhere but at me. “When you say ‘fooling around with my favorite person,’ it makes me feel like this is just a sex thing. And it’s not. It never has been, and that’s the last thing I want you to think.”
“Oh.” I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to hide the smile wanting to take over. “Well . . .”
Val’s mouth twitched. “Sorry. I’ve struggled with all this for a long time, and I don’t want to screw up. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
“I won’t. I mean, I don’t. I know you’re not just using me for mind-blowing oral sex.”
Val smiled. He snagged my sleeve and dragged me toward the supermarket. “Now that that’s settled, I want steak.”
“Seriously? That’s it?”
“You said whatever I want, and I want steak and mashed potatoes. And not mashed potatoes made out of some vegetable.”
“Fine. I’ll make you mashed taters even though they aren’t good for Operation Olympian.” I paused just inside the metal bars around the entrance to the store, and sent him a wicked smirk. “But only because I plan on working up an appetite once we get back.”
Val smiled, the smallest and slowest of smiles. “I’m good with that.”
Shopping with Ashton was kind of a trip. He was so used to FreshDirect or whatever other app he used to have groceries delivered to his apartment that he wandered around C-Town like a kid in a candy store. It was the strangest sense of wonder I’d ever seen over something so basic. He was also completely oblivious to the neighborhood regulars who were giving a serious side-eye to the tall, thin, towheaded guy who resembled someone who sometimes showed up on E! News or TMZ.
Wearing his skintight shorts and colorful sneakers, Ashton stopped in each aisle and thoughtfully studied every fucking shelf as if he’d find a quest item or hidden treasure. It was endearing and charming, but I kept waiting for either a photog or Bronson to bust through a display and come at us.
“I don’t want mashed potatoes,” he said suddenly. “How about a salad?”
“No.”
“I’m positive you shouldn’t be eating so much carbs and butter.”
“I’m positive it will make me happy, though.” I pushed the cart, which was now filled to the brim with a ton of random stuff, down the aisle. “Come on.”
“Hmph. Fine. But after that, it’s all lean proteins and veggies with like . . . a dash of carbs.” Ashton held up his fingers to indicate a tablespoon. “Like that much.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Agreed, but you’re the one who’s supposed to be getting serious about your training. I’m just trying to help.”
The combination of his earnest expression and long fingers gripping a ninety-nine-cent can of corn was irresistible. I wanted to kiss him right here in the middle of the aisle, and then drag him home and make him come over and over again. Seeing his mouth fall open and face crumble as his orgasm rocked his entire body had been almost more thrilling than the blowjob.
Okay, that was bullshit. I wasn’t a sex master, but I’d had a couple of other blowjobs and it was safe to say he’d given me the best head of my life.
Ashton smirked. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” I grabbed his arm and looked around briefly before tugging him to me. “I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re definitely thinking about something.” He didn’t resist as I pulled him against me. “Probably eating potatoes while I suck your dick.”
I burst out laughing. “Actually, that sounds great.”
“Maybe, but I don’t do the food thing.”
“Come on,” I cajoled, backing him against a wall of condiments. He leaned against it, gazing at me through his eyelashes with a satisfied smile on his face. “Picture this—the fight playing in the background, a plate in my hand, and a beautiful blond going to town on my dick at the same time. That’s basically heaven.”
“Yeah, dude-bro heaven.” Ashton kissed the tip of my nose. “I could make an exception for the fight being on in the background.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
“I hope so. Because I sort of expected you to get skittish and act like our bathroom adventure was a mistake.”
A lady pushing a stroller turned into the aisle, and I shifted away from Ashton. He took my cue and dumped the can into the cart before turning to the gravy section. It all seemed identical to me regardless of the brand, but he kept studying ingredients like he expected to find some organic gravy powder in the mix.
I leaned on the shopping cart and watched him as the lady pushed her stroller to the end of the aisle. When she was gone, I nudged his side.
“It wasn’t a mistake. I’m scared, but I don’t regret it.”
“Why are you scared?”
“How could I not be?” I retorted as he finally dumped a couple of boxes into the cart. “I have no idea what I’m doing right now. I haven’t dated anyone in years. I haven’t gone out with anyone in ages.”
“Who did you last go out with?” Ashton asked, walking down the aisle. “You don’t tell me anything about your personal life. The last girl you told me about was Rosa.”
“Yeah, that was a couple years ago. I . . .” Shit, why did I ever bring this up? My lack of game didn’t need to be a topic of conversation, and yet it seemed unavoidable. “Sometimes I try to date, but it never pans out. A couple of months ago this lady who lives in my building asked me out, and we sort of fooled around a little, but I wasn’t into it. Not because of her. I just wasn’t feeling it.”
Ashton didn’t look surprised. “Makes sense.”
“Why does that make sense?”
“Because I’ve always wondered if you were sort of . . .” Ashton lowered his voice, hesitating in a way he rarely did. “Well, I have a friend who doesn’t feel, like, sexual attraction unless she’s really into someone. Not in a ready to get hitched way, but in an . . . emotional investment way. A lot of times she’s happily single. I figured you were like her.”
“That sounds about right. I don’t miss getting laid until there’s someone I specifically want to sleep with.”
“That’s sort of what she says. And she identifies as demisexual.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never heard of that.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t exactly have hordes of queer associates the way I do.” Ashton moved closer. “I’ve thought about mentioning it to you before, when you make those comments about thinking you’re defective, but I was worried you’d think I was trying to queer you. I’m not. I’ve just always known you were about the emotional connection first and foremost.”
I looked at the shelves again, digesting what he was saying and trying to sort out how I felt about it. I wasn’t totally ignorant of the broadening spectrum of sexual identity, but it wasn’t something I’d ever considered for myself. Especially because I’d always chalked up my attraction to Ashton to us being so close. Even while longing to kiss him, I’d figured I was . . . at least mostly straight. Like it was a default in my mind. I’d never looked at other guys, so I’d told myself I had to mostly like girls. The problem had been that I’d never really been into many girls either.
“I honestly just thought I was weird about sex.”
“There’s nothing weird about it, babe. I swear to you there are tons of demisexual folks out there.”
It would have been nice to know that as a teen when I’d struggled with forcing myself to date because I’d felt I was supposed to.
“Maybe that’s why I never . . . worried about the fact that I wanted you even though you’re a guy.” I looked away from the array of seasoning packets to meet his eyes. “All I ever cared about was how I felt when I was with you.”
Ashton flushed. “Be careful or you’ll make me swoon.”
I brushed my hand against his. “It’s true, though. I never stopped to question how I could want a guy so much. I mean, there was a point where I thought maybe I was gay but then I also had feelings for Rosa, so I figured I was kinda bi. But . . . that didn’t feel right either, because I never even looked at anyone but you or her. I was happy with my hand rather than trying to make my dick work with someone else.”
“Do you think if I wasn’t always so involved in your life you would have eventually . . . felt this way about another guy?”
“There’s—” I’d started to say, There’s never been anyone but you. Even Rosa wasn’t on the same level, but I swallowed the statement.
This situation was escalating quickly from fooling around to declarations of deep feels, and he’d only blown me thirty minutes ago. All of this was dangerous territory, especially when I had no idea where we were going, or how bad I was fucking us both over by carrying on with him while waiting for one of the other Townsends to fly in like a bat out of hell and ruin it all.
“No, but I don’t have a lot of friends,” I finished belatedly. “And Matt has been in love with Hana forever. It never even crossed my mind.”
“Makes sense.”
I’d expected him to catch on to my cop-out, but Ashton just shot me a sunny grin and kept it moving. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. If I knew one thing about my Ashton, it was that he never expected anything from anyone. Especially declarations of love.
We ran into Luis on our way back to the house, but he didn’t do anything besides wiggle his eyebrows at Ashton and give me a pound. It was the friendliest he’d been to me in as long as I’d known him, which gave some validity to Ashton’s claim that maybe my soon-to-be opponent wasn’t as hetero as I’d assumed.
Ashton had burrowed in his hoodie as the wind picked up, which should have made him stand out less but somehow didn’t. He was still six feet tall, possessing all kinds of willowy grace, and had platinum hair that slid out of the hood no matter how often he tied it back. Despite the attention that magnetized to him, the three-block walk was peaceful except for my own busy mind. The unknown had never been a friend of mine, and I couldn’t stop wondering what would come next. Would we have dinner and then I’d take him back to his own apartment, or was he staying for another night? What would he do while I was at Cadet’s? Were we going to sleep together?
Fucking and training were generally not two things that went together in my mind, but one taste of him had unlocked my desire for physical intimacy, and I wanted it. I wanted him.
“What the hell?”
Ashton’s uttered exclamation drew my attention up, and I stopped in my tracks. Dylan Townsend was standing in front of my building, dressed in a pair of cords and a gray turtleneck—very easily the corniest thing I’d laid eyes on in a while. I hadn’t seen him in a while, so I was shocked that he already had a few grays and his baby face had hardened into impatient lines. His lips were mashed together, evidence of constant frowning wrinkled his forehead, and he kept checking his watch. But none of the surprise could distract me from the sinking feeling in my stomach, because I knew this was going to be fucking trouble.
“Why do you know where I live?” I demanded, striding up to him.
“Hello to you too, Valdrin.” Dylan looked me up and down before shooting a narrow-eyed glare at his brother. “You have to make a spectacle of everything, don’t you?”
Ashton’s hands tightened around the bag he was carrying. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t give me that nonsense, Ash. You know exactly what you mean. Val and Brett’s showdown is all over Page Six and TMZ this morning.”
“Shit,” Ashton muttered just as I demanded, “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I’m serious,” Dylan spat before turning his glare on Ashton. “Brett Decker is finished with TTC, and I don’t blame him. Not only did you go back on what we’d discussed, you felt the need to make a fool of the idiot in public and then get your little boxer to sweep you away like a goddamn Disney princess.”
Ashton blanched and shrank in on himself. “Sorry.”
“What the fuck?” I shot him an incredulous stare. “No. There’s no sorry. Look, Dylan, you’re barking up the wrong tree if you think I’m gonna shed a tear over you losing a business deal. You want to offer blowjobs and rough sex for wi-fi plans? Do it your damn self and leave Ashton out of it.”
“He never cared what went in his mouth before,” Dylan said acidly.
I took a step forward, and it was only Ashton’s hand on my shoulder that kept me from knocking his brother’s teeth out. For several seconds, I could only stare at him and suck in deep breaths. It turned out that it wasn’t just Ashton who could light the fuse on my temper—it was all the Townsends. They were my kryptonite, every one of them. These shining, beautiful, hard-to-believe-they’re-real people who ripped me from the calm steadiness of my temperament and turned me into someone who did all the things I’d been brought up not to do.
Lie. Raise your hands in anger. Dishonor your friends and family. In the past week alone, I’d done it all in spades.
If Dylan was afraid of my flaring temper, I couldn’t tell. He just looked between me and Ashton, his generous mouth turning down at the side. “Ashton,” he said. “Go upstairs.”
“Umm . . . no?”
“Go,” Dylan repeated in a voice like steel. “Or I’ll give Valdrin’s address to every part-time paparazzo I can find on Reddit.”
Ashton recoiled, his big eyes flicking from me to his brother. I knew he was expecting me to tell Dylan to go to hell, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not when a cold sweat had broken out on my forehead and my indignation and overprotective fire had dulled to a sense of foreboding. Without a word, I dug my keys out of my pocket and handed them to Ashton.
He grabbed them and hurried up the stairs. I hated seeing him cowed by Dylan, but he couldn’t be present for what we were about to say.
“Are you trying to fuck me over, Valdrin? I’ve never had a problem with you. In fact, I liked you. We all liked you.”
I put my hands in the pockets of my hoodie. “The only problem I have with you is that you’re using Ashton to sweeten up some Port Authority employee.”
“‘Some Port Authority employee.’” Dylan shook his head. “It’s not like I was forcing him to spend time with Brett. I asked him if he could try to sway the man, and he said yes.”
“Because after all these years he is still dying to have your approval,” I all but shouted. “Do you have any idea what your parents did to him? They treated him like an inconvenience. Like he was trash.”
“I never once followed along with that.”
“I know you didn’t. But you’re still acting like he only exists as a goddamn sex toy. Instead of being embarrassed by him, like your parents, you’re trying to weaponize him for some stupid little deal.”
“It’s not just some little deal,” Dylan snarled. “Do you know how much money was at stake? Did Ashton even have the decency to fill you in on that key detail, or on how this deal could have saved my neck, before he encouraged you to be his Albanian knight from the Bronx?”
“You can save all that stuck-up shit for someone who’ll be offended by it,” I said. “I grew up with you. I know you think anyone without some blue blood is lesser.”
“I thought more of you before you started fucking my brother. You want to talk about treating him like a piece of meat? What about the fact that the boy doesn’t have a single associate who hasn’t had a taste of him? Including you.”
A cold fist tightened around my heart. “It’s not like that. I care about him.”
“Do you really?” Dylan’s anger turned into a cold mocking smile. “Or did you finally stop being able to resist him?”
My rage soared through me, blocking the cold. “Ashton isn’t something to be resisted. And the way you treat him makes me want to put your lights out, son. One of these days you’re going to take me there.”
“That’s fine, but keep in mind, I don’t do street fights. I call police.” Dylan’s eyes narrowed. “I honestly can’t tell if you’ve lost your common sense after putting your dick in my little brother. Is he a siren who makes men lose their minds? It’s the only thing I can come up with to explain to myself why so many men fall for him and act like fools. Even Brett Decker was an emotional wreck as he told me to take TTC and go straight to hell.”
“Good.”
“It’s not good, Valdrin. It’s a disaster.” Dylan brought a hand up to his temple, and I saw it was shaking. “For God’s sake, where do you think most of Ashton’s money comes from? The company pays for his entire lifestyle.”
I turned to the stairs, but he kept talking.
“He didn’t have to degrade himself with Brett. He just had to date the man. Why do you act like I whored him out?”
“Because you may as well have. You manipulated him—”
“Oh give me a fucking break, Val.”
“—because you know he would do anything to be loved by you and your parents.”
A flicker crossed Dylan’s face. Guilt. Regret. Sadness. I had no idea, but it was gone in an instant.
“Let’s go over the facts. Since Ashton started modeling, at thirteen, he’s gotten himself into mess after mess. As he got older, he got involved with people who want him to be their houseboy, or their side bitch, and then he cries and hates himself and goes to party. And then at the party, he’ll meet another man who butters him up, fucks him, and repeats the same cycle. Maybe you think Brett isn’t worthy of your prince Ashton, but he wasn’t a bad man. He’s openly queer, he’s wealthy, he’s a philanthropist as well as a businessman, and he fucking liked Ashton.” Dylan jabbed a finger at me. “They could have had a real relationship had you not swanned in and ruined it.”
My hands balled into fists. Uncertainty settled in my chest.
“He didn’t want Brett.”
“Right. He wanted you. He’s always wanted you. Because he doesn’t know our father paid you to babysit him and make sure he wasn’t doing something that would potentially ruin himself or our name.”
My eyes flew to the building, but all was still and quiet except for bachata floating from someone’s window. Even so, my stomach sank.
“That was a long time ago.”
“It was a year ago,” Dylan snapped. “You didn’t stop it until your mother died.”
“Because I was doing it for her,” I said, voice hoarse. “After all the years she worked for your father, he left her out in the cold once she got sick.”
“Bullshit. The insurance stipend he gave her—”
“The insurance he chose didn’t fully cover chemotherapy or radiation or the extended hospital stays,” I hissed. “And I know it wasn’t required of him as an employer, but he’s a billionaire. He could have helped instead of offering bonus money under the condition of me acting like Ashton’s fucking bodyguard. And he knew how easy it was for me to talk myself into it because . . . because I was already protective of Ashton. So why not offer me miracle money for something I was already doing?”
Again, Dylan seemed to recoil from the words. As though they were slamming into the armor that deflected anything unrelated to business. He was trying so hard to be his father, and it was sad to watch the pieces of the real Dylan falling away.
“He trusted you to keep Ashton safe.”
“It wasn’t his safety Dale worried about. It was Ashton screwing up and doing something embarrassing. Like making another sex tape. Or sleeping with a married partner. Or being a drunk mess in public.”
“And is that not still a concern?” Dylan demanded. “Is Ashton not still a mess? It’s why I thought Brett—”
“Just shut up, Dylan.”
“No, I won’t shut up. You know it’s true. Ashton needed you to look after him in high school, he needed you all the times he had a goddamn breakdown and disappeared, and he needs you now. It’s why my father made that job offer.”
I laughed disgustedly. “Right. A salary and a pretend job. A get-out-of-poverty-free card if I kept babysitting his son while he’s off living in the Caribbean.”
“Regardless, you need the money. And you know it. Hana needs the money. I’ve spoken to her recently. I know she has no way to pay for next year’s tuition.”
Why had she told him anything?
“If you took the job—”
“I’m not taking the job,” I snarled. “You can forget it.”
“Why?”
“If I look out for Ashton, it’s because I love him. Not because I’m using your family’s goddamn money.”
Dylan shook his head slowly, gazing at me like I was from another planet. “You are unbelievably self-righteous. And selfish. Brett would be a better match for Ashton, and you know it. Your sister would benefit from you taking a job at TTC, and you know it. But all you care about is—”
“Go fuck yourself, Dylan. Your manipulation doesn’t work on me.”
Dylan’s nostrils flared, and in that moment, he did look like his father. I saw the same quiet anger that had consumed Dale Townsend whenever he’d looked at someone who had displeased him.
“You want me to put it to you straight, Valdrin? Fine. If you don’t fix this situation, I will be booted from the TTC board. It won’t matter who my father is. I’ll remain an owner, but I’ll have no decision-making power. And all of us will be affected if the company starts to lose money.”
“You’ll be fine. Just like I am.”
Dylan looked like he wanted to punch me. “If that happens, you can guarantee that I’ll tell my brother the only reason you ever got close enough to fall in love with him is because our father paid you to do it. Your so-called loyalty and friendship were nothing more than you using him to get fat weekly payments.”
I’d expected this from the start, from the moment I’d interfered with Brett and Ashton, but the threat still knocked the wind out of me. If we were in the ring, the fight would have been called right there. Especially because it was a lie. I’d loved Ashton since we were kids. Since those first kisses. But once Ashton learned about the money, he wouldn’t believe me. Our entire friendship, every conversation and shared secret, would be cast in doubt.
“Don’t fuck with me, Valdrin. I liked your mother, and I never had a problem with you. In fact, I think you fucking around with my brother is going to do nothing but drag you into the circus of his personal life, which would be a shame if you’re serious about being a boxer.” There was a real confusion in Dylan’s face as he said it, as if he could not fathom why I would damage my reputation for Ashton. “If you’re determined to go down this path, I can ruin your career and whatever you think you have with my brother. I’ll make sure that he not only walks out of this without your friendship, but that he will hate your fucking guts.”
“I . . .” My heart had hardened over the course of the conversation, but it still pounded enough to splinter. “What do you expect me to do? Tell him that it was all a joke—I don’t really care about him or want to be with him, and he should go sleep with your business partner?”
“No. That ship has sailed, but Brett Decker isn’t the only one in marketing on the airline’s board. If you want to protect Ashton, and your little relationship, you can put your heads together and find another way to get me that deal.” Dylan stepped around me. “And if you’re as smart as I always thought you were, you’ll stop pretending you can have a normal relationship with Ashton. He won’t bring anything to your life but trouble.”