Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
After the Race, Anaheim
Tate texted Bryce in the cab back to the hotel, letting him know that he could talk.
He tapped on the door to the hotel room and Pilot opened the door and then his arms. Tate practically fell into them.
It felt so nice to have someone there for him at the end of such a long weekend, someone supporting him, loving him.
He hadn't really had that before. Sure, before his parents walked away, they were supportive and Oz was always there for him. Yet, they all seemed just as concerned with controlling him as supporting him. Maybe that wasn’t entirely fair for Oz, but he was Tate’s manager; he was supposed to be controlling.
Pilot though? Pilot just loved him. Without judgement, without demands.
It was new, but Tate never wanted to be without it.
“Missed you,” Pilot said, kissing the top of Tate's head.
“Mmm...I need a shower.”
Pilot shut and latched the metal lock at the door and shoved Tate toward the bathroom. “Go. Hurry up, snap to it.”
Tate laughed and stripped on the way, toeing off his sneakers and letting his jersey and track pants land wherever they fell along the way.
He'd left his racing boots by the door where he'd dropped them when Pilot dragged him in.
Pilot leaned against the door frame, as Tate stuck his head under hot water.
“I have a thing in the morning,” Tate said.
“What kind of thing?”
Tate dumped hotel shampoo on his head and rinsed before answering. “Some media promo shoot for next week's race. Shouldn't take too long or mess with our flight times. I'll be back before check out.”
Pilot grumbled a little. “Was hoping we could sleep in.”
Tate laughed and soaped his body up. “Uh, lazy bones. We can sleep in when we get home.” Home.
Tate practically wiggled at the thought that he finally had a home, somewhere that he could sleep in and snuggle with his lover and maybe have breakfast in bed or snuggle on the couch to watch a movie.
Whatever they wanted to do—together. Pilot made all the difference.
He touched the dog tag charm he never took off and smiled.
“Davey's going to be there too. Why don't you know about it?”
“It's not a public thing. Guess they felt safe enough.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
Tate turned the water off and grabbed a towel to dry off. He didn't miss the way Pilot's eyes ate him up before he wrapped the towel around his waist. He loved the heat in Pilot's gaze and the way it stoked up his own fire. His cock started rising, tenting the towel up in front of him.
Pilot chuckled and grabbed his crotch. “Me too, Tate. Want you. All the time.” He licked his lips and his pink tongue was an invitation Tate couldn't pass up. He closed the distance between them and tilted his head up, begging for Pilot's kiss. Pilot obliged, taking his mouth and owning it.
The percussion from UB40's Young Guns blared out from Tate's phone. “Oh!” He pulled back from Pilot. “That's Bryce. I need to take this.” He looked at Pilot with pleading eyes, hoping he'd understand. He answered the phone and plopped down on the king sized bed. “Hey, dude. What's up?”
Pilot followed him into the room and quirked his eyebrow up, silently asking what the deal was. Tate decided he kind of liked that look and liked Pilot's concern.
“Tate, hey. Is this really a good time to talk?”
“Sure. Sure, no problem. So, what's up?”
Tate heard a long sigh and empty air before Bryce started in. “Okay. I'm just going to spit this out. So, uh...Tanner. Warren Tanner. That dick cornered me. He said he knew we were fucking.”
“Oh! What'd you say?”
“Did you tell him that?”
“Fuck, no. He was guessing.” Tate could feel the anger rising in his chest. Tanner had been an asshole all the way around.
“Okay. So, he said if I didn't bend over for him, he'd tell everyone about you and me.”
There was a long pause while Tate decided what to say about that.
He had regretted letting that asswipe fuck him before he’d even finished and left, but he'd never thought it would come back on Bryce.
The fucker had a lot of nerve blackmailing Bryce, but worse, the thought of that fucker touching Bryce like that, taking him the way he did Tate, made his blood boil.
“What'd you do?” Tate's words came out harsher than he'd meant.
He was angry at Tanner, not Bryce. “Sorry.
I'm not mad at you, whatever you did, Bryce. I just need to know.”
“I get it. I guess. But.” Bryce let out another sigh and Tate was afraid he was going to say he'd given in. “I couldn't let him touch me. I could barely kiss you. And I like you. So, I told him to fuck off. But, then he did it.”
“Did what?”
“Told. Told everybody. So, everyone thinks I let you fuck me and that's why my parents are being so, uh, you know? Overprotective. Smothering. Really. I wish they'd leave me alone, but they don't think I can handle my shit.”
“Damn. I'm really sorry, Bryce. I'm sure that's not how you wanted to come out. If you even wanted to.”
“No.”
“At least that fucker didn't touch you. I don't care what people say about me.”
“Tate, how can you say that? You have a lot to lose.”
Tate laughed at that. He knew rumors about his sexuality were not going to upend his career.
It hadn't run Davey off and the rumors about Tate were already around before MSR signed him and when everything exploded last season, his name had been thrown around even more as he became associated with McAllister's camp.
He hadn't lost anything. “Nah. I'm good.
I'm more worried about you. Everyone knows about me. You knew about me, before, too. You know?”
“Yeah. I guess you're right about that.”
“So? How are you? How are you dealing with this?” Tate's eyes followed Pilot as he paced around the hotel room.
He picked things up and put them down. Packed a few things.
Looked at Tate from the corner of his eyes.
Tate fingered his dog tag charm. Pilot had nothing to worry about, even if he didn't know it, yet.
Tate made a mental note to make sure he knew it, as soon as his phone call was over.
“I don't know. Mostly, I'm ignoring it. When I think I can just be myself, my parents are like right there. You know? I wish they'd leave me the hell alone, but then I don't know, I'd be like really alone. You know?”
Tate couldn't help making that strange grunting noise.
He knew exactly what Bryce was saying. “I get it.
Really. I've been through, well, most of what you're saying.
Except, when I came out to my parents, I lost them.
If you were honest with yours, and they're still around, even if they're a bit overwhelming, don't take that for granted. Obviously, they love you. Care about you.”
“I know. I did and they do. I just wish they'd give me a little more space. I'm eighteen. I've got a career. I even got my high school diploma. A lot of racers don't get that, even when they're straight. I'm just ready to be a little more on my own.”
“Well. I guess you have to tell them that. If it helps, you can tell them that we're just friends. I have a boyfriend.”
“That big guy I saw you with?”
“You saw me with Pilot?”
“He's like a bodyguard, right? For Apex?”
Tate's eyes grew wide and his mouth hung open. Bryce had done his homework. Why? Was he still interested in Tate? He'd said he liked Tate, but Tate had thought that meant friendship, not lovers. “Uh, Bryce we're just friends. I mean, you and me. Pilot's my boyfriend. I-I don't mean to hurt—”
“No, I know. Just friends.”
“—you. I want to be friends, though.”
“I said I get it. I need a friend, Tate. No matter how I feel about you. It's, you know, a crush, or whatever. You were the first guy to ever kiss me and I'll cherish that, but I just need a friend.”
“You've got it, Bryce. I'm here. As friends.”
“Cool.” He sounded relieved. Tate hoped he'd helped him sort through everything.
“Feel better?”
“Yes. Thanks, Tate. I mean it. This helped.”
Tate smiled. It felt good to have helped Bryce.
His heart warmed thinking about it. He didn't want to explore his feelings about Bryce any further than that, especially when Pilot stopped stealing glances at him and crawled up on the bed.
He put his hand on Tate's leg, as if staking his claim.
“You're welcome. Seriously. Call me anytime. If you need anything. I mean it.”
“Thanks, Tate. Bye.”
“Later, dude.”
Tate put his phone on the side table. “He really needed a friend.”
Pilot nodded. “You're a good man, Tate. Of course you're going to be there for him. Who is he, again?”
Tate scooted closer to Pilot, wanting his strong arms around him, reassuring him. Once he was snuggled up, he told Pilot everything about Bryce. Pilot held him tighter. “See,” he said. “Like I said, you are a good man, Tate. I'm glad you could be there for him.”
“Me, too.” He tilted his head up for a kiss, and as usual, Pilot did not disappoint him. Their lips found each other and the electricity sizzled between them.
Tate stared down at his phone as he entered the warehouse-like area that had been set up for the interviews.
Pilot had sent him a string of texts about how much he was missed and how much Pilot was enjoying that big bed all by himself.
Tate texted back, begging Pilot to send him some pictures, but he wouldn't do it.
It was probably just as well, since Tate didn't want to be giving an interview with a hard-on anyway.
“Tate! Here!” Oz called him over and handed him a cup of coffee.
“Thanks! Joey would kill you if he knew you were sliding me all this caffeine and sugar.” He sipped at the treat and hummed his happiness.
“Yeah, well, what he don't know won't hurt him. Do an extra mile on your bike when you get home. Oh! By the way. I'm having a new practice bike sent to you tomorrow. You need to be there for it.”
“Oh, why didn't you send it to the track?”