Jay's Loelife Ch. 16

chapter

sixteen

jay

"Whoa..." Matt's mouth drops as we pass Loren's house. Cars line both sides of the street and there's not an open spot to be seen. Having foresight, Loren bribed his elderly neighbor to let us park in their driveway.

I open the back door and try to unbuckle Aidan, but with Matt and Seamus back, he wants nothing to do with me. He leans away from me and starts whining, much to Matt's amusement.

Said person struts up and shoulders me out of the way like 'let me show you how it's done' and then proceeds to pull out a very happy Aidan. I roll my eyes. Matt will bask in any win he can get.

Seamus doesn't miss the interaction. He steps beside me, nudges my shoulder, and smiles. Don't worry about Matt. He's just doing what he does best. You're a better man than he'll ever be and you are hands down Aidan's favorite uncle for eternity.

I swear, that's exactly what Seamus's look conveyed. Mostly, anyway.

As we cross the street, Seamus looks at the packed house with the loud music and people milling around the yard. "I don't mean this offensively, but I didn't realize there were awards for people who make a living off social media."

"Why would it be any different from people who get awards for playing sports? Or acting in movies? Or singing songs? Or being a good employee for one whole month?"

"I said I didn't mean it offensively..."

"There's a lot that goes into his job," I continue, feeling like I need to defend what Loren does against Seamus and everyone else that thinks the worst of influencers. "He probably works harder than either of us. There's no set hours or days off. He goes and goes and goes."

"He's won a lot of awards," Matt tells him, siding with me for the first and probably last time. "He's big."

I look at Seamus and childishly stick out my tongue. He mumbles again that he didn't mean to be offensive.

A crowd of people blocks the front door, so we make our way along the side of the house, to the back porch. It's also crowded. There's not an entrance that can be accessed without a bulldozer.

I recognize no one, but they recognize me.

"Do they think you're Jay Petermeyer of the Seattle Seahawks Sack Pack or do they think you're Jay Petermeyer, Loe's boyfriend?" Matt asks as eyes follow us along the backside of the house.

"If I was Jay Petermeyer of the Seattle Seahawks, they'd ask for an autograph."

"True," Matt concedes with a chuckle. "Must be a change for you."

"It's nice."

Before we go inside, I turn to Aidan, who's clinging to Matt's neck with his head on Matt's shoulder. "I'm not offended that you want your dad, but I will be majorly offended if you want Loren. Tread lightly or I'll be eating a fried potato for dinner."

The corner of his lip curls, completely unbothered by the threat. I tickle his side as payback and then walk through the patio door.

"Holy shit," Matt says as he tries to avoid people.

"College ragers weren't even this packed."

I stop and look at Seamus. "College rager? Name one you went to?"

"Jett Romero ring a bell?"

Of all the people, he brings up Jett Romero. I could punch him. Regardless-- "That only proves my point. Jett's party was not a rager."

Matt puts his hand between us. "Let's not argue over something that happened a hundred years ago when moonshine was the way of life."

I give Seamus an incredulous look. "You let him talk to you like this?"

He shrugs. "The head is good."

I give Matt a once over then turn back to Seamus with a raised brow. "Just remember that you thought Jett's party was a rager..."

Matt's jaw drops. "Hey!"

Seamus laughs and Matt whomps him in the chest.

"Don't get mad at him because he knows what's up," I chastise.

Matt comes for me. "You're such an a--"

I look across the room and find Loren watching me. He's smiling, almost like he knows that Matt and I are arguing. "Oh, there's Loren," I say, before Matt can finish his sentence.

He glares at me, suspicious of the timing, but follows me to the other side of the house.

Loren's holding court with a large group of people. He puts his arm out when I get close, so I sidle up next to him. He puts his arm around me and smiles. "This is Jay. Jay, this is everyone."

I grin. "Wow, nice to meet everyone. I've heard good things."

Loren laughs and elbows me.

"Fuck me," one of them says, a little star-struck.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'll have to pass." The guy turns bright red and awkwardly chuckles when everyone else laughs.

Loren squeezes me and continues introductions. I learn that one of the guys is Ryder of ryderordye, an Influencer of the Year nominee and with him is Berklee of berkleeonthefly, another nominee. Loren commands the group with the finesse only a veteran has. He's flawless in his ability to bring everyone together. He lifts the others up without putting anyone down. He, and everyone around us, know he's the king.

Every person in the group is eating out of his hand like housebroken bunnies, smiling excitedly when he introduces them and lists some of the things they've done. He misses nothing.

The group expands and shrinks as people come and go. There are a few guys, mid-twenties, that slowly and not very discreetly, gravitate to me as the group ebbs and flows. The darker-haired of the two keeps nudging his blonde friend until finally the nudge inspires the courage he needs to talk to me.

"You're Jay Petermeyer. I mean, yeah, uh-umm, of course you are."

I chuckle. "I was last I checked." I get that people are nervous about approaching me. It's been years and I still find it hilarious.

"Do you think Dev Morgan was the best draft pick?" he asks. "I mean, they could've gotten Ben Hauseen."

"Ben was good but we need to grow the O team. We need a good running back. Gervis is leaving in the next three years. Dev is solid and is showing potential to be a great replacement."

"I guess..." he doesn't look convinced. That's the thing with fans, they always know what's best. It's the hardest part of the job, really. But I'm not here to get into a heated debate. These are Loren's people so I keep my mouth shut.

Seamus bumps into me, saving me. "We need to get going or miss our flight."

Aidan has his head on Seamus's shoulder now. He's been quite the star. Having been the highlight of Loren's week, he's become a recognizable face. Everyone wants a piece of him. Unfortunately, he's not keen on the attention.

I put my hands out so he'll come to me for one last hug, but he burrows deeper into Seamus instead.

Loren smirks at my rejection and puts his hands out. "Hug?" he says. Jokes on him. He might've been the favorite all week, but he's no match for reconnecting with his Moose, aka Seamus. Aidan turns his head away like he's never seen Loren before in his life.

Seamus gives us a sympathetic look, as if he knows what it's like to get rejected by King Aidan.

"Thanks for watching Aidan all week and thanks for inviting us to this party. We had a great time. I'll call you next week," he says. And then they weave through the crowd. I wave one last time at Aidan but he looks away and pretends he doesn't see me. The little poop.

****

The king is not happy.

Loren is mingling, smiling, and laughing, but something is off. I tug his hand and nod toward the deck. He excuses us and lets me lead him outside, off the deck and down the sloping lawn until we're at the far corner of the deck, which is several feet above our heads.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

I know his fake smile from his real smile. I look at him and give him a chance to spill it.

"All week Aidan wouldn't leave me alone and then I tried to say goodbye and he acted like he didn't know me."

"Aww, did he hurt your feelings?"

Loren crosses his arms, the sleeves of his shirt stretching around his biceps. He looks down, embarrassed to look me in the eye. "Kind of."

"You were amazing all week, but no one can touch how he feels about Matt and Seamus. This was his first time away from them for more than a few days. I'm sure he'll be obsessed with you when he sees you again, and you can go back to pretending like he annoys you."

"He does annoy me."

"Mhmm."

"He does. And why isn't he potty trained yet? If he can spend seventy-two dollars on a stupid game, he should be able to shit in a toilet."

"Yes, that's a realistic expectation for an almost two-year-old."

"I bet I could have him potty trained in a weekend," he says as if he actually could.

"I'll let Matt and Seamus know. They'll be thrilled."

"And it's Lor-en, not Low-en."

"Of course it is."

"You're not taking me seriously."

I laugh. "Of course I'm not."

"I'm going back to the party," he huffs.

I put my arm up, blocking him from leaving. He's been the life of the party, the sun that everyone orbits around. I love sharing with him but I need a moment. I can't do what I really want to do because there are fifty people in any given direction, some with cameras pointed our way.

And seriously, Loren looks edible. Extra hot. He's dressed to impress. I ogle him from head to-- "Where'd you get those pants?"

Loren looks down. The straight leg medium wash denim fit his thighs and ass like a glove. He runs his fingers across the waist where they're a little loose, making his abs look tight as ever. "The brand sent them and a few other pairs, hoping I'll wear them. I think I like these."

I run my fingers across his stomach. They're the best fitting pair I've ever seen on him. Tailor made. "I think I love them. And what's this?" I flick his backwards hat.

He smiles, showing his perfect teeth. It damn near lights up his entire face. He readjusts the hat on his head. It's a very jock move. Very hot. "This? Some football player gave it to me."

"Some football player, eh?"

"Yeah. Real tall, blonde, kind of cute."

"Kind of cute?"

He waggles his eyebrows. "Sure, if you're into that All-American look."

There's something about that smile, the genuine one that not everyone gets to see. It's a happiness that comes from within. Happiness that comes from me.

I lean down and bite his ear. "You look really good when you smile."

"I thought it was the jeans?"

"Oh, the jeans are great, like, amazing, but it's your smile that gets me."

His eyes shine in the sun. It's so different from when we first started dating. Less hesitation, more confidence. When Loren's good and relaxed, lookin' at me like he's gone and fallin' stupid in love with me, I concede to his earlier request. "I should probably get you back to your party."

Loren slides his hand under my shirt, exposing my stomach. He leans in really close. "You'll stay tonight?"

"Are you serious?" I ask hopefully. "It's not like we haven't just spent the last week together."

"But we had a living, breathing, crib escaping cockblock sleeping a few feet away..."

"In that case, I'll stay tomorrow, too."

We stare at each other, smiling like idiots for another minute before someone calls his name. He sighs and steps away. "Duty calls."

There are more people than before. It's a veritable Who's Who of the social media world. Anyone who's anyone in the business is here and he introduces me to all of them, including influencers striving to reach Loren's level and those who work with him.

He's the king. All hail Loren.

"This is Mitchell and Megan from Buck farms. They get me all the best stuff for the drinks I make."

"Like that cinnamon caramel?" I ask, remembering a drink he had made a few weeks ago. It was like nothing I ever had. I salivate at the memory.

Megan smiles. "Can't keep it in stock."

She tells me all about their beginnings and how Loren's loyalty catapulted Buck Farms from a small shop to a multi-million-dollar company.

I meet Cam, the guy who customized the camper. Sven's there, too. While Loren's busy, I try to say hi but he works the crowd, keeping as much distance as possible.

Corey steps in front of me, but his eyes are tracking Sven as he ducks outside. "He's embarrassed about how forward he was when he didn't know Loren and you were dating. He's licking his wounds. He's always liked Loe more than he let on. When Loe posted the 'Branded' photo of you two, Sven kind of disappeared. I'm surprised he showed up today."

I frown. Sven is a fun, charismatic guy. Part of me wants to track him down and tell him there's no hard feelings, but I can respect needing to come to terms with things on your own. If Loren left me for another man, well, I'd need time to get over that kind of rejection.

Loren finds me and drags me around. I feel like the husband of a celebrity. I love it. I'm so proud of him and what he's accomplished on his platform. I can't help but cater to his every whim.

His drink is low. Without asking, I take the empty one from his hand and quickly replace it with a full one. He studies me with a quirky, half-drunk smile. "Are you proposing?"

I raise a brow. "Are you saying yes?"

He laughs and resumes his conversation with the group, as if I never said anything at all. I smile to myself. I'll get him one day.

****

It's four-am.

"We're out." Corey says after he, Isaac, and Cole help me get a few things picked up around the house. Loren has a cleaner coming early tomorrow morning, but it seems disrespectful to leave things at this level of chaos.

Isaac looks at Loren, who's slumped over the sofa, drunk as a skunk. I wasn't the only one who re-filled his drink. "Need help getting him to bed?"

"I got it. You guys head out. Thanks for everything."

"Night."

I turn the lights off and heft Loren up.

"I's fine," he slurs as I help him to the bedroom.

I add a pack of hydration powder to a glass of water and watch Loren use it to wash down some medication. His face sours. "This isn't no good. Blech. Isss terrible."

I tip the glass up with my finger, making sure he gets every, last, drop. "It's either that or a hangover." Then I make sure he brushes his teeth.

He barely finishes. His eyes droop and he leans against the wall. "Isss jusss want to sleep."

I put his toothbrush away and watch him stumble his way to the bed. He falls awkwardly on the mattress and manages to take off every article of clothing before worming his way under the covers. I set water on the nightstand and a garbage can on the floor by the bed. He's out before I crawl in.

****

I smile as I load weights to the bar. Loren would freak out if he knew how distracting he is to me. He'd banish me, break up with me, tell me I'm an idiot for not being dedicated to the sport I love, the one that makes me millions.

I've waited years for someone to come between me and work--to make me pause before signing a contract, to wonder if it's worth it, to dread being on the road and away from home.

Knowing Loren would punch me if I didn't give my workout out one-hundred-and-twenty percent is the only reason I push myself to the edge. I don't leave until my muscles are shaking like jello and my trainer walks me to the door, all but shoving me out of the building.

Two-and-a-half hours at the gym and a forty-five-minute commute back to Loren's and he's still sleeping. I close the bedroom door softly and head to the kitchen. I'm whipping up a batch of oatmeal when the front door opens. His friends are laughing as they come in, joking about something.

Isaac sets down the giant totes on the kitchen table and grins at me. Looks like Loren was the only one who enjoyed himself too much last night. Everyone else seems fine. "How's our friend?"

"Not great. He was up most of the night."

Isaac, Cole, and Corey share a quick look before the latter two head toward Loren's room.

"They should let him sleep," I say. I haven't spent a lot of time with his friends and haven't worked out our boundaries, but I'd like to think I have some authority...

"He knows we have a full schedule today."

"Shouldn't he be allowed to call out?"

"Being hungover is different than getting the flu. One is voluntary."

I bite my tongue and finish making the oatmeal. Ten minutes later Cole and Corey are back in the kitchen followed by a freshly showered, haggard, but still hot-as-hell Loren. I slide him a bowl of food and an iced americano. He gives me a small smile that says he may or may not keep it down, but he appreciates the gesture.

While he attempts to eat. Cole and Corey bring in more totes. Lots more totes. The kitchen is overflowing when they finish. Ruby shows up with another person. Despite being hungover, Loren gets to work. I watch as they go through a monster pile of products. They take them out one-by-one, dissect them, who else promotes the brand, pros, cons, etc. Finally, they list what ones they want to try out.

Then there are the products they've been using. They list those one-by-one, dissecting their own experiences; the pros and cons, before deciding which ones they're willing to promote. Then they're on the phone negotiating terms. This is where Corey shines. He's a no-nonsense negotiator.

They order lunch and then dinner. Loren catches my eye and apologizes for the chaos. It's not unfamiliar territory. I too have endorsement deals, which is basically the same thing even if it looks different.

By the end of the day, they've scheduled, or at a minimum, outlined every paid advertisement, project, special event, trip, giveaway, and collaboration for the next six months. I don't know how they do it. When everyone leaves, my brain hurts and I only watched from the sideline.

He shuts the door behind the last person, then collapses on the sofa with his head on my lap. His muscled arm drapes off the sofa and his fingers find their way to my ankle. He gently strokes the top of my foot to mid-calf.

I run my fingers through his hair as he takes a minute to himself.

"I haven't seen this side before," I tell him. "It's a lot."

"Not really," he says into my thigh. "It's like any business, you have to have a plan. You can't just go on a whim. Not at this stage."

"Does it ever feel like you can't do what you want because you have so many obligations?"

"No more than anyone else who has a full-time job. No different from you. It's not like you can do shit once the season starts. You have a busy schedule. Lots of obligations."

"Touché."

Loren looks up and grins. His eyes are soft and tired, but he's happy. "You do this a lot."

I tilt my head. "Do what?"

He gets up and straddles my lap, which I very much enjoy. We haven't been this close since before Aidan came to visit. I grip his thighs and help settle him as close to me as possible.

"You double-standard me."

"Double-standard you?"

He looks at me like I'm stupid as shit. "Yeah. When we first got together, you gave this long lecture on nudity and how it's ruining our society, blah blah blah. Everyone is selling their souls, blah blah blah--"

"That's not exactly what I said," I defend. "And I'm not sure how that's double-standarding you or whatever."

"Because a big part of my job was selling the very image you hated, but you do the same thing."

"I dare you to find a shirtless picture of me. I dare you." I have never been remotely naked for anything. My agent is very clear about my boundaries.

"Just because you're not nude doesn't mean you don't sell your body. You have what, a hundred-million-dollar contract to justify the fact your job is dangerous? The NFL is a fifteen-billion-dollar industry where players are glamorized for playing, forced back into the game after an injury even if they're not ready, so the team can make more money. Concussions are downplayed because it's bad publicity and players are tossed aside when they're broken. What message does that send? And how is that better than me posting without a shirt?"