Ruthlessly His by Walker Cole Page A

issue, incoming,” I say.
    He cocks his head. “I don’t quite follow.”
    “Something might leak to the press.”
    “I understand,” he says and makes his fingers into a steeple beneath his chin. “Go on.”
    “A personal matter,” I say, still not finding the words.
    “An affair?” he offers. “We dealt with an affair last year, the soccer coach strayed from his marriage. I’m sure you remember.”
    “Something like that,” I say.
    “So there are photos of you and this woman? Taken by someone?”
    “Yeah, like that,” I say.
    “I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me here. It’s the only way to protect you and the university.”
    I nod, and scratch at my face. Trevor doesn’t say anything. He just keeps waiting for me to speak. I think about Leo’s face. I wonder what he’s doing at this exact moment. He said we would fix this. Trevor still hasn’t spoken. He must be doing some kind of bullshit power technique. I start to think that perhaps Trevor doesn’t have my best interests in mind. His shirt has the university emblem on the pocket. I stare at it, and then stand up. “I think,” I say. “That on second thoughts, the matter is resolved. Thank you for seeing me.”
    He catches me by the door. “I know it can seem scary,” he says. “But if you explain to me everything that’s happened, then the university can take action and no one will get in trouble.”
    “What do you mean, take action?”
    “Well,” he starts. “If there have been transgressions, there are steps which the university should take to protect itself—and you, of course. To protect you as well.”
    I raise my voice and the vein in my neck starts to protrude. “I’m keeping my job. That’s my team out there,” I say, and point outside.
    “Please, Mr. Smith. Calm down.”
    “I get the feeling that you’re trying to threaten me,” I say and look down at Trevor. He takes a few steps back.
    “No, no. You have the wrong idea. Don’t you remember the soccer coach? His name escapes me, but he took a sabbatical.”
    “Yeah, and then he never returned,” I say.
    “But that was his choice,” Trevor stresses.
    “I don’t see why what I do with my personal life is any of the university’s business.”
    “There are sponsors, and the administration's image, of course.”
    “Bullshit,” I say.
    “Mr. Smith. This is the last time I’m going to ask you. Calm down.”
    “Nah, I’m done with this. I’ve done nothing wrong. Forget I said anything.”
    “Mr. Smith?” he calls after me, but I’m already down the hall. I need Leo. Why did I leave him? He’ll know what to do. He’s good at calming me down, probably better than anyone I've ever been with. When I’m around Leo, I’m the real me—and that’s what I think this situati on needs. Even if it’s all his goddamn fault.
     
    * * *
     
     

Leo
     
    I draw a tick on the paper in my hand. There are hundreds of pawnshops in New York. I made a map of the ones within a thirty-minute walk from the sushi restaurant where my bag was stolen.
    I don’t think I’ll see Colt again. I know how these scandals go. The guy always retreats back to his family, the wife sobs about it on the local news, and they ask for people’s prayers.
    I wish Colt was checking these pawnshops with me. Most of them have been on sketchy streets. Colt always makes me feel safe. I’d go anywhere with him. God, I feel so fricking terrible about this whole camera thing. Did I even say sorry? Colt’s right—it’s all my fault. Fuck. I just want him to punish me or yell at me or anything.
    I’m stressed, and when I’m stressed, I always want a good ass-fucking. There’s nothing better to clear my mind. When I’m down on my knees in front of Colt, that’s when I just go cock-crazy. Kissing, sucking, slurping. I don’t even feel like I deserve to be thinking dirty thoughts about him. Celebrity photos leak all the freaking time. I know Colt’s only a minor celebrity but