Super Not Into You Page 14

  I need to hear him say something outside of my name. I don’t just want to hear his moans for the remainder of our relationship. I want to hear something substantial from him to prove that he cares about the future of his life, and of us as a couple.

  “How bad is it out there?” he asks me.

  “There isn’t anybody outside of your place, but I’ve had to kick out a few reporters from the school grounds just to keep the parents from getting up in arms about my being there. But I can deal with that. It’s annoying but it’s something I can manage.”

  He nods thoughtfully and leads me into the shower so we can get cleaned up and get outside for some fresh air.

  Bryan shaves the depression beard he’s spent all this time growing and keeping unkempt. He has a new light about him. Maybe it’s the after sex glow but he looks different now that he’s shaved and showered.

  “Let’s go to the park,” he announces.

  “What if someone sees us?” I ask him.

  He shrugs and starts heading out to his front yard.

  We walk out into the sun, hand in hand, enjoying the warm weather we’ve been missing out on this week. A walk in the park seems just what the doctor ordered for Bryan. He’s cracked a smile for the first time since he fell into his spiral.

  The sun is such a revitalizing energy. We both seem to be in much higher spirits than earlier even though, on paper, nothing has changed at all. A stroll in the park also helps get the blood flowing, though our blood had been flowing already with the intense sex we were having. Thankfully, nobody seems to know who we are, and we haven’t been approached by a single curious onlooker or nosey media person trying to snag the next tabloid headline. It was just me and Bryan sharing another moment.

  “Things will work themselves out. But I am going to stop accepting things lying down,” Bryan finally utters. “No more lying about my mistakes. No more interacting with my parents, period. And no more making up false scenarios just to cover my ass.”

  “That all sounds good,” I reply to affirm of his choices.

  But something weighs heavy on my mind. When he says that he’s done making false scenarios to cover his ass does that mean that he’s done with me as his fake fiancé. When I ask him for confirmation, he takes a pause that’s nearly too long for comfort.

  “Yeah. We can’t keep a farce going about a fake relationship. That’s going to be draining and it may hard to keep up that lie,” he explains.

  His answer makes logical sense, but I did have a glimmer of hope that he would tell me that our relationship was safe. Without thinking, my hand slips from his grasp. As it falls to my side, Bryan catches it and brings it back into his.

  “Our relationship may have started out as a sham, but I think that it’s blossomed into something else since then, Scout. I really don’t think anybody else would have come get me out of bed and show me some tough love. I really wouldn’t be here without you, babe.”

  “What are you saying?” I ask incredulously.

  “I am thinking that it would be better that if instead of getting married as sham, you and I could actually try dating.”

  This was not something I was expecting from this stroll in the park.

  “Are you… are you really saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “It is,” he replies with content, half-opened eyes. “I think we have something special, Scout. I want to see where this goes. I want to make this real.”

  I do my best to hide my blushing cheeks from him with my hands, but he’s still able to see right through me. Bryan pushes his face right through my hands and plants a kiss on my lips.

  “So, what are we?” I ask, just for clarity.

  “How about we take it slow? I’ll call myself your boyfriend if you call yourself my girlfriend. I’m done with doing shit for the public. I like you. I don’t care that my parents are snobs who might not ever accept you. I’d like to have you in my life, Scout.”

  “I’d like to be in your life, Bryan. Fuck false pretenses,” I cheer.

  “Fuck false pretenses,” he confirms.

  The two of us continue our stroll through the park, holding hands, and walk back to his place to order some food and another round of celebratory sex.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Bryan

  “You’re going to be alright, aren’t you?” Pilar worries. “You’re looking a bit pale again. I don’t like it when you’re pale. When I see that you’re pale, I start sweating and when I start sweating —”

  “Palir, relax,” Scout says in a calming voice. “He’s not pale. Your sweat glands can take it easy. Everything is going to be okay.”

  She’s right. Everything is going to be alright. All I have to do is tell the truth and we’ll be out of here in no time. Scout places her hand on my shoulder and reminds me to breathe slowly and think carefully of the words I’m going to say to the press.

  “Alright, buddy boy, we’re here,” Pilar says as we pull up to the news studio. “We’re going to walk in through the back, I’m going to say a few words and introduce you. Got it?”

  I hold onto Scout’s hand for reinforcement and nod once I feel her grip me back.

  “Take your time,” Palir advises as he leaves. But then he hurries back and poke his head in the car, “Not really though, hurry. I’m going to be real quick.”

  Scout and I follow Palir slowly, keeping our distance so I can receive some final words of encouragement from Scout. It’s nothing I haven’t heard from people before a big game but it’s comforting to hear regardless. As we near the stage for the press conference, I can hear a crowd of people murmuring, waiting for me to get on stage. I’ve never been more terrified.

  “This is going to be a piece of cake, Bryan. All you have to do is answer their questions and answer them honestly. If there’s something you don’t feel like answering, then you don’t answer it. But I do think it would help to just come clean about everything. Clean slate, Bryan. Your new life is going to begin immediately after this press conference.”

  “You’re right.”

  We share a kiss before I let her hands tear away from mine, feeling as if we won’t be seeing each other again. Though I know she’ll be right here waiting for me as soon as the press conference is over. I walk up the steps and wait for my cue.

  Palir finishes introducing me and setting the expectations for the sea of reporters and photographers out there waiting for me. I climb onstage and am immediately bombarded by questions. I ask everyone present to hold their questions until after I’ve spoken and assure them, I won’t be long. The crowd hushes and waits for me to begin.

  “My name is Bryan Anderson from the New York Leviathans. I have been subject of many scandals this past year and I’ve come before you today to tell you all there is to tell. Starting with my disappointing and embarrassing appearance at the fundraiser for The Children of The Future. I was meant to give a speech at this function and was unable to perform adequately. Now, the reasoning I gave at the time… was false. I was not intoxicated to the point of being unable to read the teleprompter in front of me. I was stone cold sober, but still unable to read the teleprompter. And that’s because I cannot read quickly. I have dyslexia. Originally, I had the speech memorized, but it was changed at the last minute and what was put on the teleprompter went too fast for me to catch it.”

  I grit my teeth through the last few words of that opening statement, but I manage to get through it. The gritted teeth are good preparation though since immediately after, I see everyone in the crowd raise their hands as they start to bombard me with questions.

  “Is there anything at all that you can read?”

  “Why have you lied about this for so long?”

  “Is this just another lie to cover up a relapse with alcohol?”

  “Why are you just coming out about this now?”

  All valid questions, of course. And all questions I have to answer to inch closer towards a new life in which I have nothing to hide.

&n
bsp; “I can read a few things here and there, but my reading level is at that of a second grader’s. If that. I did not relapse with alcohol. I’m not an alcoholic now and I never have been. Hopefully never will be,” I joke. “The reason I’ve been untruthful about this for so long is that I’ve wanted to protect my parents. I no longer feel that that’s necessary and have come to the conclusion that their actions should have consequences. Whether or not they feel guilty about it, they’re certainly responsible for my academic neglect and refusal to act on doctor’s orders following my diagnosis of dyslexia.”

  Curious murmurs from the audience arise, but only one arm shoots up following that statement.

  “Are you saying that your parents are at fault for the past few scandals you’ve been involved in?”

  “Yes and no. I received the diagnosis from the doctor and my parents refused to act in any supportive way. The only way they supported me was by sweeping my learning disability under the rug. They would pay off teachers throughout my entire academic career, so that’s including my time in college where I was scouted for the NFL and on a scholarship that my parents helped me cheat to get. That said, I am responsible for my actions. I never sought any professional help or private tutoring for my dyslexia. After I moved out, during college, after college, I treated my dyslexia the same way my parents did, and that was by ignoring it. So, to reiterate, yes and no. My parents were the cause, but I had the perpetual chance to work with my dyslexia and chose not to do so.”

  The crowd before me is now almost completely quiet. I can read sympathy on some reporter’s faces and it helps relieve some of the anxiety I’ve been experiencing since the drive over. Knowing people are listening to this and are registering it as my honest truth is all I can ask for from this press conference.

  I continue. “I’m sure you’re wondering what my next step is. Since I have been temporarily suspended from the NFL, I will be concentrating on my studies until my rightful place on my team is restored. The picture that is circulating of me smoking weed is very old. That was something I did in college and have not done since.”

  “What are you going to do while you are suspended from the NFL?”

  “Pursue a proper education. Starting with the great Dr. Seuss.”

  Sparse laughter cuts through the silence.

  “But really, I have hired a private tutor and I am going to reevaluate my career after I have caught up to my peers in reading and reading comprehension.”

  “You are denying any claims of smoking marijuana, then?”

  “I smoked weed from time to time, in college and college alone. Who among us here didn’t partake in a left handed cigarette now and again while we were in college, away from our parents and among new friends who had new experiences to share with us? But I will say again, I have not touched the stuff since and don’t have any desire to do so in the future,” I argue.

  “Have you been tested by the NFL?”

  “No,” I admit, “but I am more than open to being tested should my spot on the team be reinstated. Until then I will be focusing on my studies and my relationship my girlfriend.”

  Now, the roar of the crowd returns. A plethora of questions.

  “You said girlfriend — are you no longer engaged to Scout Thomason?”

  “Who is your new girlfriend?”

  “Did you break things off with Ms. Thomason because you found your relationship to be unprofessional and a conflict of interests?”

  “No, no, none of that,” I assure them. “I am still with Ms. Thomason, as a matter of fact. And I will continue to donate my time and money to her organization, Children of the Future. We are no longer engaged but that is only because we need more time to get to know each other. We decided that we don't want to have a typical celebrity marriage that ends within a week of the wedding. So, we're going to be taking it easy.”

  I take a breath to think of my parting words to the public.

  “I’d like to thank you all for coming to this press conference. To the people who stuck by me the entire time I was a subject of speculation, I’d like to thank you deeply for your support. To those who felt as though they couldn’t support me while I was hiding aspects of my life, I understand, and I hope I can change your point of view of me in the coming months.”

  “How do you intend on doing that?”

  “As a professional athlete, I have been able to accrue quite a bit of disposable income as I’m sure you all know. And with that, I will be helping not just Children of the Future, but many other charities focused on the welfare of our children. One of these charities will include a dyslexia support group for students ages five to nineteen, a group I wish I could have been a part of when it could have helped me the most. I also challenge my friends and former team members to match my donations. A little friendly competition that’ll benefit the lives of many children across the country.”

  Palir hops on stage and waves the microphone away from me, concluding the press conference. It flew right by. I can't believe he's shutting it down this early, I was ready to talk for at least a whole half hour. I thank the public for their time and walk off to the backstage so Palir will stop shooing me away.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Bryan

  “How did I do?” I ask Scout excitedly.

  She runs towards me and catches my body with both arms. “You were amazing. You didn’t seem nervous at all, it just seemed like you were shooting the breeze with a crowd of journalists. I mean, listen, they’re cheering. I didn’t know people were supposed to cheer during press conferences. You killed it, Bryan!”

  We share a long, passionate kiss that goes on long enough for us to be interrupted by Palir.

  “Alright, kids, are you ready to get the hell out of here and have some peace of mind?”

  The three of us ride back to my place for a celebratory meal provided by my favorite restaurant.

  “That really could have gone terribly, Bryan. I cannot say that enough, you really pulled through and saved your own skin back there. And mine.”

  Scout pats Palir on the back, “You know what, Palir? You can say that enough. You’ve been saying that nonstop since we left.”

  “I just can’t believe it,” he shouts, “you went from being on people’s shit lists or just out of people’s minds to being back on top with just a few minutes of screen time. Ah, I love how fickle people are.”

  We all take our carbonated drinks in hand and cheer for our future.

  Palir stops himself before taking a drink, though. “There is one thing that’s been nagging at me that you said.”

  “Of course there is,” I chide.

  “Can you afford donating to all of those charities? I mean, you’ve kinda been blowing your money since you were suspended from the team and if you’re not careful, you’re going to end up broker than broke.”

  “Bryan, is that true?”

  “Palir is exaggerating. I have blown through a lot of money lately, but I still have more than enough to donate and not go broke with. But y’know, if you’re so worried, I could always move in with you.”

  Palir rolls his eyes and goes on to start eating the seafood we had ordered from The Shrimp Lover. Scout seems receptive to the idea but keeps on edge.

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” she shrugs, “I guess we’ll have to see. I don’t know if I have a lot of space for another person.”

  “Let’s check that out. And while we’re at it, maybe we can see if there’s a job opening at Children of the Future. I don’t mind volunteering my time but it sure would help my crippling financial situation if I had a stable job, don’t you think?”

  Palir grabs his food and starts making his way towards the door. “Alright, I can tell when three’s a crowd. How about you two call me if you need me? I’ll be sleeping for the next week or so. And I do expect to get paid for it.”

  “You got it, bud.”

  When he leaves, Scout asks me if I’m really prepared to move in with her and ditch this life of lux
ury. I explain that I won’t be ditching my life of luxury, I’ll just be sharing those luxuries with her.

  Living together is going to bring us closer. We’ll be finding out what annoys us about each other, what we love, what we like to do in the privacy of our own spaces, and what we like to do when we’re bored. I only see it as a positive.

  “Scout, I’m ready to move out right now.”

  “Let’s not be so harsh. But if you are set on leaving this place, can we go on the bedroom and… bid farewell to this place properly?”

  She kicks her shoes off and drops her jacket on the floor as she walks up the stairs to my bedroom. I have no choice but to follow her. We climb into the bed, look out the windows and stare down at the city below us.

  For a minute, in our silence, we stare at each other without saying a word, in the quietness of the bedroom only our bodies talk for us. The only audible thing I hear from her is a giggle as I lean closer. I continue to admire her face while trying to meet her eyes. Her lips pull me towards them, and I decide to dive into the city reflected in her eyes and go in for a kiss. As I lean closer, everything turns black.

  In total darkness, I find her soft lips. In total darkness, our mouths meet, and our embrace deepens. Rapidly, her whole mouth becomes an intoxicating delicacy that I can’t help but devour. Our kisses become longer, and I feel her fingers begin to tug at my shirt as she pulls me closer to her.

  While she feels my lips embrace hers, a wave of desire gently passes through her and in its wake, it makes her whole body shiver. I feel it. Her shoulders tremble, her fingers dig into my shirt, her legs quiver against one another as her skin is caressed by goosebumps.

  After that, an epiphany of lust. Scout can’t wait any longer and I feel her beginning to unbutton my pants. She begins to undress me, yet she refuses to break the kiss. In fact, she keeps my tongue a prisoner of her lips while she frees me of my shirt. Then, she wastes no time and swiftly pulls down my unbuttoned pants.

  While she unwraps me, my eyes are still closed, but I feel everything: her mouthful of kisses, the sound of her unbuckling my belt, the feeling of her pulling my pants down to my ankles.