Series: Fever Falls Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Fuck, he’s cute. That’s too bad.”
“He’s not that cute,” Linc replied. The jealousy streak was strong with this one.
“No, of course he’s not.”
“Okay, so he’s hot. Whatevs.”
Bending close, I stopped with my mouth beside his ear. “Now’s not the time to have that conversation, sweetheart.”
“Wait. Sweetheart? You’ve never called me that before.”
“I was practicing, since this guy thinks we’re boyfriends.”
“But you don’t want him to think we’re boyfriends, right?”
“I don’t care what he thinks. I just don’t want him to write a fucking article about it. Now let’s go and get this over with. I’m getting pissy.”
We walked to the table, and Dean stood. “Hi. I’m Dean, good to meet you.” He held out his hand, and I shook it. He gave his attention to Linc next.
“The boyfriend. But then you knew that already, right? Do you make a habit of eavesdropping on other people’s conversations? I’m in a better headspace than I was the other day, so I won’t be running away this time. And Rush is a better man than me because I wouldn’t have met with you at all.”
This surge of pride shifted inside me. There was my Linc. He’d been hiding the past few months, but I knew he was still in there.
“I didn’t eavesdrop. You weren’t real quiet with your announcement, but I don’t know…something was off about that whole exchange at the hospital. It got me thinking that maybe things weren’t what they seemed?”
“Are you trying to say I lied?” Linc asked, which he had, but I knew for damn sure he would never let Dean see that.
“Nope. I’m not saying that at all,” Dean replied, but we both knew he was.
“You’re about a second away from me walking out of here,” I told him. It was basically the last place I wanted to be anyway.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Please, sit.”
I gave him a brief nod before signaling for Linc to get into the booth first. I squeezed in beside him, and Dean sat down across from us.
“To make a long story short, I’ve always loved writing. I write for a newer online sports magazine—Sports News Daily. We’re growing, getting more subscribers daily, but obviously we’re not Sports Illustrated.”
“What’s that?” Linc asked, and I rolled my eyes. Dean’s mouth dropped open, his eyes shifting back and forth between Linc and me.
“He’s kidding,” I told Dean.
Linc looked at me and grinned, showing the little dimple beneath the right side of his mouth. The things that fucking smile did to me.
The waiter approached then and took our drink orders. I wasn’t going to eat there with him, but I’d get a drink.
“Anyway,” Dean continued. “I’m a gay man. I’d like to promote gay men in sports. You and I both know there are more gay men competing at professional levels in every sport, but…well, look at how many of us are out.”
“So you’re here because I’m your only option?” Fuck that.
“No, that’s not what I mean at all. I’m trying to find the best way to say this without coming off as a judgmental asshole, but…well, most of the guys out there riding dirt bikes are small-town boys, a lot of them from areas that aren’t known for being real accepting.”
I nodded because he was right. Despite Southern California being one of the major areas in the country for motocross, it wasn’t a diverse sport.
“It’s a big fucking deal for you to be an out supercross racer,” Dean said.
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “It’s important to me to be out, to be proud of who I am, but I also don’t want that to be my calling card. I’m a fucking racer, and that’s it. I don’t want to be known as the gay racer. I’ve been proactive my whole career in straddling that line—not denying who I am, but also not being known for my sexuality. I don’t plan to change that now.”
“It wouldn’t be that way. We can highlight how great of an athlete you are, while also showing that you can be a gay man and excel at professional sports. Whether or not you want to be known as the gay supercross racer, you are the only actively racing, out, gay man. You can help break down walls and—”
My body went stiff. “I’m not here to break down walls. I’m here to fucking ride and win.”
“I think you’re being stubborn here,” Dean replied. “We document your recovery and talk about your past, which I’ll remind you has been done with most of the top racers. When did you know this was what you wanted? What did you accomplish to get to where you are? You’re not the first man to tell his story; yours will just also include the fact that you’re gay.”
“No.” He was right. Most of the top racers had done pieces like this, but the difference was, they weren’t asking those guys about people they were dating or fucking. They weren’t making relationships and sexuality a focal point. “I appreciate your talking to me, but I’m not interested. I’d also like you to keep Linc to yourself. I don’t want him mentioned in anything. Have a good day.”