He’s looking at me strangely when I lower the bottle and lock eyes on his. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
I grin and nod toward the glass patio door. “You have a pool.”
He looks behind him and nods. “What’s a mansion without a pool?”
I grin, thinking about all the times we talked about the things we’d buy when we were famous. Ry always wanted a hot tub. I wanted an underground pool. “What about a hot tub?”
He grins wryly. “Of course. Have to soak my muscles as often as I can.”
I’m not sure if he did that on purpose or not, but when he mentions his muscles, I can’t stop my eyes from roaming down over his sculpted chest and stomach. Motherfucker is carved out of stone. I’m not sure that’s really a requirement in baseball. His sweats hang low on his hips, and my gaze lingers a little too long on the prominent V of his obliques.
“You okay?”
Fuck. I was not just checking out Ryan Bailey’s body.
“I’m fine. How about we go out there to talk? It’s a nice night.”
“I was in bed.”
I grin and start toward the door. “Now you’re not.”
He grumbles but follows me out onto the patio. We take our seats by the pool. We both sip our beer in quiet contemplation, and I decide to just dive in. Because why not? We’ve lost seven years.
“So, how the hell did I not know you were gay?”
His look turns into a glare as he turns his head toward me. “What does that mean?”
I roll my eyes when I see he’s offended. “Don’t get your boxers in a twist. I just mean I can’t walk out my door without a fucking camera in my face. They know my every mood. How is it that you fuck dudes and the world doesn’t know?”
His shoulders noticeably relax now as he takes a drink of his beer. “I’m not a rockstar, man. They usually report about my stats, not my dating life.”
“Yeah, that’s total bullshit. I’ve seen that ugly mug of yours posted all over the fucking place. Hottest bachelor in baseball. Who’s going to bag him?”
He rolls his eyes at my recount of the articles printed about him in the last years. “Stalking me on the internet, huh?”
I grin into my beer. “As if you haven’t Googled me.”
He doesn’t deny it and shrugs, going back to drinking his beer in silence.
I look up at the night sky, glad it’s still warm out. “So do you just not fuck?”
He nearly chokes on his beer, which makes me laugh as he shakes his head. “Jesus, still no fucking filter on you.”
“I told you I wanted to get to know you again, and I’m curious. There has to be a reason the media doesn’t know about you being gay.”
“Jesus, fuck.” He runs his hand through his short blond hair, huffing out a breath in frustration. “Not all of us flaunt our hookups.”
I hold the beer bottle by the neck and tip it in his direction. “But if there were any hookups whatsoever, they’d be on it.”
He sighs, settling further back into the lounge chair, pulling one arm up to place it behind his head. “NDAs.”
My brow crinkles. “You trust them to keep their word because they sign a contract?”
His large shoulder shrugs before he takes another drink of his beer. “I’ve done my part by having them sign it.”
I turn in my chair, studying him for a moment. “What does that mean? Do you want them to out you?”
He doesn’t move, his body staying stiff and tense as he looks straight ahead before he finally answers, “I wouldn’t say that. But if it happens, it happens. I’m fucking sick of hiding who I am.”
My gut hurts, thinking about my best friend living a lie for so long. It’s not fucking fair, and he shouldn’t have to. “So why not just come out already?”
He scoffs at that like I’m ridiculous. “There’s no need. It’s nobody’s business who I want to fuck.”
“Fine, but you shouldn’t have to fucking hide.”
I watch his jaw tick, and then his already huge chest puffs up and fills with air before he turns to me. “Drop it.”
Touchy subject. I get it, but it stings. There was a time I thought nothing was off-limits with us. “Fine.”
I turn back in my chair and away from him. He does the same, but he isn’t silent. “What about you? Are you really Mr. Commitment now?”
I grin and turn my head in his direction again. “Spying on me too, it seems.”
“I may have seen something about you in a long-term relationship. You’re really faithful?”
The doubt in his tone pisses me off, but I suppose it’s warranted. I’ve never been committed to anyone in my life. “No, but I have NDAs too.”
“That’s fucking nice.”
I try not to get defensive. The last thing I want is a knockout fight with Ry. The prick has gotten even bigger since the last time either of us has thrown a punch. Most of the time, it was all in good fun, but he could still take my ass out if he wanted to.
“Things with Vicky aren’t really as they seem.”
“What does that mean?”
I trust Ry, but I can’t betray Vicky. “I can’t say. But it’s pretty much all fake.”
He snorts and shakes his head, not looking at all surprised. “Who knew all the shit that came with fame?” He looks up at the sky. “You think if we would have known then what we know now, we would have wasted so much time dreaming about it?”
I hear the raw vulnerability in his voice and feel the pain laced inside the words. “I’m not sure.”
I hate this tense moment. I don’t really know how to deal with it, so I go all Grady on him and blurt out something completely inappropriate.
“So, you catch or pitch? You know, off the field?”
I caught him off guard, and he turns to me all wide-eyed and freaked-out. “Jesus, fuck. Did you really just ask me that? As if I’m a fucking top or a bottom?”
I shrug my shoulder, having heard those terms before but still thinking it’s strange coming from Ry.
Who really is totally fucking gay.
Huh. Who knew?
“I’m just catching up. Is that not an acceptable question?”
He laughs, shaking his head and in the moment, looking like the old Ryan, the one I grew up with. Younger and freer even if he’s still all in his head. “Not really. No.”
“Oh, come on. I’m just curious, man. I know you’re a damn good catcher.
He finishes his beer and places the bottle on the ground. I’m certain he’s gonna throw a punch or kick my ass out, but he speaks, “On the field I’m solely a catcher, but off . . .” His eyes meet mine, making me squirm for some unknown reason. “In bed, I like to switch it up.”
I gape at him. I have no idea what I thought he was going to say, but the fact that he takes and receives . . . Yeah, I didn’t see that coming.
I take a large drink of my beer and lean back in my seat. “I’m sorry you didn’t think you could tell me the truth.”
“About being versatile in the sack?”
“What?” I turn to him, and it’s his turn to laugh at me.