Page 138 of Lovers Like Us
In the hotel room, he hardly bats an eye. Notsurprised.
The entertainment TV station presents the entire video package like a wet dream. Confident, unabashed men in red underwear, sculpted builds and six-pack abs—I’m shocked they didn’t go ahead and call them Sexy FuckersOrg.
Back on-screen, Quinn walks out in only a bow.The YoungStud.
Jane starts relaxing, the titles not as bad as she thought. Akara and Thatcher exit the bathroom the same way they entered. Stringent and grave. But their attention routes to the television. Watching withus.
A phone pingsrapidly.
“That’s me.” Donnelly ditches the remote for his cell. “…fans found my Twitter. I just gained 10k followers…another thousand…holy shit. They keep askin’ if anyone on SFO issingle.”
“Don’t respond,” Thatcherorders.
“It won’t matter,” Oscar chimes in. “GBA news already profiled our relationship statuses. Single as a Pringle. All ofus.”
Multiple pairs of eyes dart from Farrow to me, but I bury a reaction. Inside, my brain blares on repeat,he’s taken, he’s fuckingtaken.
Our room quiets when the entertainment segment shows Thatcher. He towers on-screen in his underwear, leaving nothing to the imagination, and he spins around. His bare ass is in full view. To millions of viewers. Words flash across hisback.
TheJockstrap.
Great. I almost cringe. Under any other circumstance, I could see Omega laughing—but the roomtenses.
Thatcher’s strict features never changeshape.
Jane looks horrified. Like she committed manslaughter against her bodyguard. “Thatcher, I’m terribly,terriblysorry.”
“It’s fine.” Thatcher lowers the volume using the TV button. “None of it bothersme.”
Jane is stillpale.
I reach out and squeeze her hand. She squeezesback.
“Jane.” Thatcher catches her gaze, and very seriously, he says, “I’m relieved it wasn’t you on the television. That’sall.”
She death-grips my hand, almost cutting off the circulation. But I let her hold longer, and Akara snaps his fingers to hispalm.
“So this is it,” he begins to deliver the news, good or bad—and my phone rings. Jane instantly releases her grip, and I check the Caller ID:KinneyHale.
ForFaceTime.
I can’t ignore my sister. Our mom and dad are in New York City tonight at a charity event for children. Sponsored by Halway Comics. Which means she’s home alone withXander.
“Sorry,” I tell everyone. “You can talk without me…” I gesture amongst the group while I return to the window and grasp at the illusion of privacy. But I like that I’m closer toFarrow.
I answer thecall.
She swings the camera. What the fuck is shedoing?
Her features are blurred, brown hair whipping every damn way, black eye makeup streaming down her round cheeks. Gangly limbs shifting in and out ofview.
“MoffyIcantIcant.” Her voice is a jumbled out-of-breath, tearfulmess.
“It’s okay. Take a breath, Kinney. Tell me what’s wrong.” I block out the pit that wedges in myribcage.
She cries and pounds her fists atwood.
“Kinney. Focus onme.”
