Chapter Thirteen
Cliff
Once the cameras had stopped rolling, I snuck Brighton into my office after I had seen him alone.
I had acknowledged that he might have been the rightful winner of the contest. It wasn’t that I had been insincere about the reasons I had chosen Mikey, but empathy for how he’d been mistreated had played a big part in choosing him.
To his credit, Brighton had shared that he respected the decision and might have done the same if he had been in my shoes.
He promised that everything was good between us, and he looked forward to winning the next time.
I had told him I was counting on it. We had parted with a quick hug.
I had been surprised that the embrace hadn’t seemed awkward, considering Brighton was still a relative stranger to me.
I figured that was a good sign about him.
But now, I was prepared to give my full attention to Mikey.
It wouldn’t be fair to him to spend our time together like he was a second choice.
Perhaps, without the other contestants in his presence, the poor guy could relax.
I hoped I’d begin to see more than his misfortune of becoming the center of embarrassing situations.
I put on a white tennis polo and shorts, then made my way to the courts. I was pleased to see that Mikey was already there waiting. I appreciated a man who was punctual.
Mikey was wearing a black T-shirt and longer, baggier black shorts. It seemed he did everything he could to avoid attention. Maybe it was because fate hadn’t been kind to him when the spotlight had shined on him.
“Did you find a racket you like?” I asked, since Mikey had one in his hand.
“I did,” he replied, as I approached. His mouth opened a bit as his eyes enlarged. “Oh, I should have asked before taking one off the wall from your…sports shed? I’m sorry.”
I chuckled. “Don’t be. While you’re here, make yourself at home.
” I pointed to the small building that Mikey had referenced.
“It’s excessive, isn’t it? It’s just that between the tennis, golf and pool equipment, I didn’t want to be lugging stuff from the garages.
You might have noticed there were other sports and hobby things in there, too.
While you’re here, please enjoy them with Aaron, or whomever else you’d like. ”
“Thank you.” He still appeared nervous. “Um, you’re really active, huh?”
I shrugged. “I started sports at an early age. To be honest, my motive initially was to blend in with other cool boys so they wouldn’t suspect there was something different about me.
I always worried I wouldn’t be very good, but my mother gave me the shove I needed each time I wanted to try something new.
Somehow, I usually did well. I’m just lucky that athletics came easily to me, I guess… and having a competitive drive.”
Mikey surveyed the grounds. “That quality must be why you’re so successful.”
“A lot of that was good fortune, too. Right place, right connection, right opportunity kind of thing.” I saw the estate through Mikey’s wandering eyes, and I wondered if he thought I was an entitled ass.
“I know this all seems showy. I’m not trying to be.
I really do live well below my means so I can donate a sizable portion of my earnings to worthy causes. ”
Mikey appeared shocked. “This is living well below your means?”
I flushed. “Yes. Based on your reaction, I’m feeling like a selfish prick who should be doing even more and enjoying far less.”
Mikey shook his head. “I didn’t say that. At least I didn’t see gold faucets, toilets and wall decorations in the house.”
“I’d like to believe I didn’t lose good taste once I made money. And I try not to buy things that I wouldn’t use much, just because I can. I own one car, no plane, no boat, no silly toys…”
“You sound like you feel guilty for being rich,” Mikey pointed out.
“I do,” I admitted. “More often than people might think. Maybe one day, I’ll get rid of all this, too.”
Mikey pursed his lips. “Don’t do something because people act awestruck at seeing your things.
You have the right to decide what the right balance is for yourself.
It sounds like you’re doing way more for others than most wealthy people do.
You’re entitled to possessions that make you happy, too. You’ve worked for them.”
I nodded and smiled. “So, are you ready to get on the court and show me what you’ve got?”
He grinned in return. “I should warn you, I played in amateur leagues back home in Pittsburgh. I was pretty good.”
That was a confident side of Mikey I hadn’t seen yet.
“Pretty good, huh? You’ll need to be better than that if you’re going to beat me,” I joked.
And he was. After playing a set, Mikey won six games to four.
While I might have started out playing under my abilities so I wouldn’t embarrass him, I had realized quickly that the guy was the real deal.
For every winner I hit, he hit two more.
I had twice as many unforced errors. My size and strength had allowed me to serve more aces, but Mikey had been able to return many serves that would have blown by others I played.
His smaller frame and peak form had allowed him to run back and forth on the baseline far more quickly than I could, blunting my usual ability to avoid long rallies.
By the time we had reached a four-four tie, I had been slowing while he had been as fresh as when we started.
He had broken my serve, and I’d known he’d be victorious.
After he had won the last point of the match with a surprise drop volley, he held up his arm in jubilation. I rushed to the net to shake his hand.
“You lied. You’re not pretty good, at all. You’re terrific. Great match.”
Mikey grinned at that, then we both made our way to the bench on the sidelines.
We sat side-by-side, grabbing the towels James had left there for us.
The motion of Mikey wiping down his face, arms, and legs drew my attention to how beautiful his smooth skin was wet.
Every muscle seemed built for the game of tennis.
“Ready for another set?” he asked with a devilish smile.
I laughed. “I most certainly am not. There are only so many times in one day I’d like to have my ass handed to me, thank you.”
I caught him glance at my body more than once, then immediately look away with a blush.
“You could beat me sometimes, I’m sure. You’re a very good power player with a wicked forehand and a powerful serve.
But if you want to be sure I will lose to you at something, invite me over to play anything else.
Tennis is the only sport I play well. Maybe because it’s the only one that ever interested me. ”
“Is Aaron a good player, too?” I asked, figuring Mikey must have someone who was keeping him in good form since leaving Pittsburgh.
Mikey flinched at the question. “Aaron? Would you rather he was here with you now instead of me? It’s okay if you would. I could understand that.”
“Mikey, I chose you, didn’t I?” I asked, troubled that he had misinterpreted me.
“It was a sympathy selection, though, wasn’t it?
I appreciate the time with you anyway, even if it was.
I just asked about Aaron because even when he tries to build me up with others, they end up more impressed by him.
” He wiped more sweat from his face, then looked down at his sneakers.
“As they should be. Don’t let the teasing, cocky act fool you.
He’s a great guy with a big heart. He’s everything I wish I could be. ”
“Everything you wish you could be, or everything you wish you had in a boyfriend? Mikey, are you sure that you aren’t the one who’d prefer Aaron was here instead of me right now?” I asked gently so he’d know I wasn’t annoyed by the prospect.
He turned his head to me in surprise. “No! Why would I? I’d really like to have a boyfriend, but it will never be Aaron. He’s straight, remember?”
“My mother wondered if he might not be as straight as he thinks. After she observed the way he interacts with you, she suspected that he likes you more than as a friend.”
Mikey laughed out loud for the first time since he’d been in my presence.
“That’s funny. Aaron would have a heart attack if he heard your mother say that.
” When he sobered, he shook his head. “Not because he’s bigoted or anything.
Quite the opposite. That’s why he’s so comfortable showing affection to me, besides the fact that he’s a touchy-feely guy overall.
And because of his ego, he likes that I enjoy it.
Why wouldn’t I? He’s sweet to me. And like everyone that knows him, it seems, I find him attractive.
But I don’t waste time fantasizing about things that aren’t possible.
It would be like wishing I was straight.
It’s wasted energy. Trust me, if someone rounded up all the women Aaron slept with, they’d fill this tennis court from baseline to baseline.
He likes me as a friend only. I’m the buddy who amuses him when I react to his immature antics, bad habits and bizarre observations.
” Mikey chuckled, and it was loaded with affection, revealing that none of those things bothered him.
“I wouldn’t have known that about him by watching you two together—the annoying stuff, I mean.”
Mikey snickered. “You haven’t seen enough of us. I love him, but sometimes I want to wring his neck.”
“Well, I imagine living with anyone surfaces quirks that you either learn to accept or not. I didn’t go into this show expecting to find perfection, because whomever I choose, they won’t be getting that from me,” I replied. “I hope someone can love me anyway.”
“I’m still hopeful that someone could be me. Although I’m probably the contestant that’s furthest from perfect, so I know my chances aren’t great. I sure never expected that you’d choose me for the first date,” he admitted, looking away from me.