Page 77 of Tangled Up In You
I brushed my teeth before crawling into bed. I was still wide awake, and after thirty minutes of me flipping around and punching my pillow to fluff it up, I sighed and grabbed my phone. The temptation was way too much. I’d refrained from checking any of my social media ever since Hunter told me not to, but the urge was too great.
I instantly regretted it.
footballguy86:Hey, Taylor. Gays r disgusting and need 2 stay out of football. I’m tired of having ur sick agenda shoved down my throat. Seek mental help for your sickness.
There were a lot of interactions on his post, and I was afraid to look at the thread at first. But once again, curiosity won, and I clicked it. A lot of the responses were in support of me, which made my eyes water.
RaptorsFan:Footballguy86, sounds like u need to stop worrying about things being shoved down your throat and start focusing on removing the stick from your ass. Corbin, I support u! Love u man.
I stopped looking after that, not ready to face anymore yet. My skin was thick, and I wasn’t a stranger to criticism. For years, I’ve had people say I sucked as a quarterback. In my modeling, I’d received comments saying I was ugly and stupid shit like that. It never bothered me. But something about this just made me emotional.
I needed Hunter. He always had a way of calming me down and making me forget about things for a while.
***
The next morning, I woke up later than I’d intended. Since it’d taken me so long to fall asleep, I slept in until almost eleven. The number of missed calls and text messages from Jennifer, Hunter, and Austin told me something huge had happened.
The damn article is out.
Goddammit, I didn’t know if I even wanted to look.
Needing just a few minutes of normality before everything went to shit, I went into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. I debated on adding some whiskey to it, but then common sense won that argument. Getting wasted wouldn’t solve anything, and I needed a clear head for dealing with whatever waited for me in the real world.
Fuck.
I drank half of my coffee before my nerves became too much, and I snatched my phone from the kitchen counter. I read Hunter’s good morning text to me and smiled as he commented on theHamletquote. But that smile faded as I read the ones he sent after that.
Hunter:Cor??? You okay? I just read the article.
Hunter:Corbin Taylor, wake your ass up right now.
With my stomach in knots, I scrolled to Jennifer’s name in my contacts and called her.
“About time you called me back,” she said in a huff. “Have you read it?”
“No,” I answered, feeling like I was going to be sick. “How bad is it?”
“Let’s just say that William guy is a total douche-canoe,” Jen spat into the phone. I was glad that rage wasn’t directed at me. “I just emailed you the link to it, so you don’t have to hunt it down. Not that you’d have to look far to find it anyway. Call me back once you’ve read and we’ll make a game plan.”
A lump was wedged in my throat, and it felt like I was being stung all down my arms and legs by a hundred tiny bees. My shaking hands made it difficult to open up the email, and my finger hovered over the link.
Once I read it, it’d be real.
Here goes nothing.
I clicked the link and snarled when I saw William’s photo appear at the top of the article. In it, he was wearing a nice shirt and a fake ass smile. I’d never understand how I didn’t see it before—how he’d just been using me. Maybe it was because I always tried to see the good in people. After taking a deep breath, I scrolled down the page.
My blood boiled when I started reading.
Sacking the Quarterback
By William Deckard
No other position in American football is as glamorous as the quarterback. When it comes to sacking these players, there’re rules that have to be followed. No hitting in the head—what about rubbing it? No hitting too low—I’d say middle way down is perfect. And no intentional grounding—and, boy, let me tell you he sure knows how to ground a man.
Little did I know that in order to sack Corbin Taylor all I needed was a flirty smile and twenty minutes in an upstairs closet where he showed me other positons he excelled in.
I had to stop reading because I nearly threw my phone against the wall. Once I’d composed myself enough, I continued reading and became angrier by the second.
