Page 45 of Playing Dirty
Oakley’s expression makes it crystal clear that my attempt to paint the situation better is falling flat. I’ll never understand why Logan took over his brother’s portion of the lease in a house full of jocks—all of whom happen to be his older brother’s friends.
So instead, I just change the topic entirely.
“So, uh, how’s New York? Hopefully you’re enjoying it instead of just working.”
“It’s great. Quinn’s old roommate came out to visit, same with my parents. And living together has been a breeze.”
“Good to see you two haven’t killed each other yet.”
A smirk tugs at his lips, and he glances up at me through the screen. “Damn, T. You must really be in the trenches if you’re trying to make small talk.”
I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We’ve been friends for years. I know you well enough to realize you’re not the type to just call and catch up. So what’s going on? Is it the stuff back home?”
“Um. Kind of, yeah,” I say slowly.
Telling Oakley is probably the best option out of all my friends—maybe my subconscious knew that when I called him—but how the hell do I segue into my possibly-evolving sexuality? Or worse, the unfortunate person who’s the catalyst for it?
If anyone will understand, though, it’s gonna be him. I mean, the guy literally was screwing his sworn enemy for months right under our noses, so why would I ever think he’d judge me for hooking up with—
A switch flicks in my brain all of a sudden, the solution staring me in the face. Ironic, because it’s not actually the person watching me with concern through the phone screen.
“Uh, is Quinton there?” I ask hesitantly.
Oakley’s brows draw together, and he glances away from the screen briefly before stating, “He got out of the shower a few minutes ago. Why?”
Wincing, I slowly mutter, “I…actually think I need to talk to him.”
Oakley’s frown deepens, and he lets out some mix of a laugh and a scoff. “Uh, yeah. Okay. Let me just check on him really quick.”
He disappears from view, and I fight the temptation to hang up, knowing damn well there’s no way I can sort this out on my own. Not without driving myself to the brink of insanity.
“Hey, baby. Who’s on the phone?” I vaguely hear Quinton ask somewhere in the distance, then catch Oakley responding with, “It’s for you, actually.”
Oakley reappears on the screen a couple seconds later, going straightback to the stove, and a wet-haired Quinton is right behind him. He catches sight of me on Oakley’s phone and frowns instantly.
“Theo? Hey, what’s going on?”
I rack my brain for a place to start, only to come up empty every single time I open my mouth to speak. It’s like the words get stuck on my tongue or die in my throat, and eventually, my frustration grows to the point where I simply blurt out what I’m thinking.
“When you and Oakley started sleeping together last year, how did you rationalize it?”
Oakley stops stirring the pot of rice in favor of meeting my gaze through the phone screen.
“Thisis what you needed to talk to him about?”
Quinton looks equally as stunned by my blunt delivery but recovers quickly enough before answering. “Uh, well, in the beginning, it was a stupid superstition I’d convinced him to follow through on. But, obviously, it became a lot more involved as the season went on.”
“No, I know that. What I mean is… How did you rationalize hooking up with him as someone who is—was—straight?”
There’s a brief flicker of curiosity on Quinton’s face, but he schools it quickly.
“The first time, it was a bit of a fluke, to be honest. It’s not like I was gung-ho on the idea of sucking dick, I just hated him so much that I wanted to prove a point.” He glances over at Oakley all lovingly, and smiles. “Who would’ve thought our love story started out with a hateful BJ in a frat house bathroom, right, baby?”
Oakley just shoots him a look over his shoulder before going back to their dinner. I, on the other hand, choke on a laugh at the vulgar picture he’s painted, and shake my head.
“Okay, and after the first time, how did you feel about it?”
