#Blur (The GearShark Series Book 4)

by Cambria Hebert

  Hopper cut the engine and turned to face me in the dark. “I’m pretty sure you already have.”

  My stomach flipped. He always said the right thing. I shook my head slowly. “There’s more.”

  “Well then, it will just be a bonus.”

  Someday I would give him everything. Someday when I was absolutely sure he wanted it all.

  “You finally gonna tell me what we’re doing here?” I asked, gesturing toward the huge-ass house.

  “You ready to sign?” he asked.

  My forehead wrinkled. “You made me wait to sign until we were here with Gamble?”

  “There’s a few things I want to go over with him first. A few things I want to make clear.”

  “I thought it was all in the contract?”

  He nodded. “It is, the legal stuff. It’s a solid contract. This stuff is personal.”

  With that, he got out of the Audi and left me sitting there to wonder. After a second, I flung open my door and stepped out. Hopper was there, reaching for my hand, and we walked, linked together, toward the huge front door.

  Snow was once again falling, but it was light and lazy. The air was so cold when I breathed out you could see my breath in great white puffs. The second we stepped onto the porch by the front door, it opened and the housekeeper stood there, bathed in the light from the room behind her.

  Hopper stopped, glanced at me, and then moved forward. “Actually, we’ll just need a minute.” Then he pulled the door shut right in her surprised face.

  I lifted an eyebrow, amused. “Care to explain?”

  “I should have explained before we left. Or in the car when you asked just now.” He blew out a breath. “I’m nervous.”

  I shifted closer to him, feeling the hesitancy in his words. The wind blew, and I shifted again, putting my back to it so it acted as a buffer against the cold for Hopper. “Nervous about what?”

  “Us.”

  My stomach dropped. “Is there an us?” The words turned white when I spoke them and floated between us for a few infinite seconds.

  He shuffled on his feet, stuffed his hands in his jacket, and glanced up and then away. “I want there to be.”

  “You do?” I asked, surprised.

  “I really fucking do.” He relented, his eyes lifting to mine. Their icy tone was so piercing, way more than the frigid temps outside. “I came here tonight to basically tell Gamble that. Our personal life isn’t really his business, but it will affect our business.”

  He came here tonight to tell Gamble there was an us?

  Whoa.

  Because I didn’t say anything, Hopper rambled on. The nerves in his voice, the way he would pause and then speak rapidly, was totally endearing. “I don’t really make it public knowledge that I’m gay. Not because I’m ashamed or anything. But because I don’t want people to know me. I don’t want people to figure out how I used to be. I like the anonimity I have here.” He glanced up. I watched him, totally enthralled by his sudden outpour.

  “I’m gonna be your manager, along with the rest of the team. But I’m not just your manager. You’re more to me than that. I’m not going to pretend otherwise. Not even at work. I won’t have people saying I give you preferential treatment. I won’t have people hounding us because we’re gay. But I won’t step away from you either. I… can’t.”

  My chest was tight, and I was pretty sure it was because I was holding my breath. “What are you saying?” I wheezed, shifting again to block him from the wind.

  He stepped close, so close our feet bumped. We stared into each other’s eyes while my stomach fluttered uncontrollably. “I’m saying I want there to be an us, and I want people to know about it.”

  I opened my mouth, but he bulldozed on.

  “I don’t want to hide the way I know I look at you. I don’t want to revert to just staring when I think no one else can see. I want to hold your hand all the time, not just when we’re alone. I refuse to make you a secret, Arrow. I’m not saying I’m going to shout our relationship to the world, and I know this is fast. It probably qualifies for the breakneck speed mentioned in the car, but this has to be ironed out before you sign that paper.”

  I started to say something, but once again his nervous rambling continued, this time as he wrung his hands.

  “This isn’t me trying to force you into something you aren’t ready for. Fuck, I’m scared as shit right now. I still want to take things at our pace. I don’t want to freak you out… but yeah, I also want to put a label on it.”

  “Hopper,” I commanded. His eyes snapped up.

  “Y-yeah?”

  I lunged forward and kissed him hard. I tried to lick up the aftertaste of all the beautiful words he’d just vomitted all over my high-tops. I pulled back but wrapped my arms around him and tugged him into my chest. His nose was cold against my neck, and I hugged him harder.

  My head turned just enough so when I spoke, my lips brushed against his head. “Yes.”

  A shudder moved through him, and I hugged him even tighter.

  “Yes?” His voice was muffled against my neck.

  I pulled him back, looking into his face. “Yes, I want there to be an us.”

  Relief washed over his features, and I hid a smile. Poor guy, he was just as hard on himself as I was on me. “You’re sure? The press is gonna get ahold of this. It might become a circus.”

  “Are you prepared for that?” I frowned. “After the way they hounded you about Matt? What if someone realizes who you are?”

  “I can’t let that stop me from living my life anymore,” he whispered.

  I grabbed his hand. I knew exactly how he felt.

  “We don’t have to have this all figured out tonight, Hopp. Whatever comes, we can handle it, all right? And we agree to handle it together.”

  He nodded, the clouds in his eyes moving past. “Together.”

  Another brisk wind blew. I grimaced. “Maybe next time you want to talk about our relationship, you could do it before we’re standing in below-freezing weather?”

  Before he could reply, the front door pulled open again, but it wasn’t the housekeeper standing in the light this time. It was Gamble.

  “You two assholes need to get in here,” he ordered. Then I noticed his eyes slip down to where our hands were clasped.

  At the same time, our grips tightened.

  “I figured that’s what this was about,” he grumbled. “Come on, then. I’ve been expecting this talk. I’ve already got measures in place.”

  He strode through the entryway and toward his study.

  Hopper and I looked at each other.

  He already knew? But we’d literally just decided.

  “Dude,” I whispered. “Is he phsycic?”

  Hopper shrugged.

  “I’m not heating the entire neighborhood!” Gamble bellowed from somewhere in the house.

  We moved as a single unit through the door and shut it behind us.

  Hopper looked a hella lot more relaxed than he had before. I guessed whatever “measures” Gamble was putting in place were exactly what Hopp was hoping for.

  And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you get shit done.

  Boo-yah!

  I marched right into Gamble’s office and told him exactly what I wanted:

  1.) State-of-the-art cameras on every inch of the garages and indoor team practice areas.

  2.) Someone on staff to review said footage on a weekly basis to guarantee there was no hazing or in-fighting happening on Gamble property.

  3.) Acknowledgement that Arrow and I were together and it was not a conflict of interest.

  4.) Permission to be at every race Arrow was in.

  5.) Gamble’s presence at a team meeting where I introduced Arrow as a new team member and blantantly acknowledged our relationship and the fact we were both gay. If anyone refused to work together in a professional manner because of our preferences, immediate dismissal.

  6.) Explicit right to dismiss anyone from the race team
and Gamble racing staff at any time due to hazing or engaging in hateful conduct of any kind. For Gamble to make it clear at previously mentioned meeting the power I have.

  7.) For everyone on the team, including racers (including Arrow and myself), to sign nondisclosure agreements regarding any personal relationships they witnessed while on company time. Prohibition of sharing and trading racing practices and secrets with those outside Team Gamble.

  Gamble agreed to all of my demands.

  I mean, sure, he already seemed to know Arrow and I would walk into his house holding hands (seriously, maybe he was psychic) and was prepared for the “conflict of interest” talk. And yeah, he’d already called someone to install the cameras (I didn’t know this), then told me he had to check with his laywers about the NDA, etc.

  Point was I got what I wanted.

  Scratch that.

  We got what we wanted.

  There was an us now. Arrow and me. We were still trying to feel our way, still working through all our jagged edges, but there was a label.

  Usually people resisted putting labels on things, especially so early in a relationship. Arrow and I weren’t most people. In fact, we were unique in a lot of ways. This label might be scary or stifling to most starting out, but for us, I think it was reassuring. It was something to hold on to. Something tangible in a world where practically everything had been ripped away once.

  I didn’t expect it to make sense to anyone, but I really didn’t give a damn.

  Once the details were hashed out, Arrow signed the contract. He was officially with NASCAR, and I was officially with someone who wasn’t Matt.

  It was difficult to move on from someone you thought was your infinity. Even in death, I planned to remain loyal to his memory. Sometimes I wondered if falling for Arrow meant I loved Matt any less. And sometimes I still told myself it wasn’t fair I got to live when he didn’t.

  After the meeting with Gamble, I went to my apartment, alone. It felt like I’d been gone for years instead of just about a week. The entire place felt strange to me now—well, stranger than before. Less like home than it already had.

  In fact, as I stood in the center of the undecorated living room and stared at the plain white walls and windows with cheap plastic blinds, I sort of felt I was standing in a prison.

  A prison of my own design.

  Matt wouldn’t have wanted this for you.

  You don’t know what Matt would have wanted because he isn’t here to ask.

  I’d only been back a few hours, long enough to shower, change, and throw my dirty clothes at the washing machine so when I got around to actually doing laundry, I’d know where they were.

  After the meeting with Gamble, which took quite a while, A and I grabbed some food, then came back here. I had shit to check on in my place, and he wanted to call his brother and Joey to thank them for turning the bland apartment into something far from bland.

  Space was good for us. Guys like Arrow and me needed it.

  The walls of this jail cell were closing in on me. I glanced more than once at my bed, but just as soon as I did, I would glance away. The thought of sleep, though I was tired as hell, was so unappealing.

  I supposed the one night of reprieve, the one night of blissful sleep, was all I was going to get.

  Just like always, my demons came calling. Dark thoughts, guilt, and warring viewpoints scrambled my brain and made my limbs restless.

  I thought of the place I always walked to for a cup of coffee. It was familiar though unpleasant.

  I didn’t bother changing out of the sweats I put on after my shower. Instead, I shoved my feet in a pair of shoes, grabbed my keys, and left the apartment.

  At the elevator, I didn’t stop. My feet, my heart, had a mind all its own and directed me straight down the hall. It wasn’t bad coffee, dark streets, or miles of walking I truly wanted.

  My apartment no longer felt like a home because my home was with someone else.

  Before I even got to the door, it flung open. My footsteps stuttered, and Arrow strode out into the hallway, no shirt, with a pair of too-large sweats riding dangerously low on his hips.

  My blood spiked, and my stare settled on those sweats and what they almost weren’t covering. My mouth tingled with the memory of his cock running across my tongue.

  Arrow seemed intent on where he was charging to, which couldn’t have been far because he wasn’t wearing any shoes.

  He stopped when he saw me standing just a foot away. Neither of us said a word; we just stared at each other, our eyes doing all the talking.

  Slowly, Arrow backed down the hall, and I started forward again, following. In his apartment, he held open the door. I ducked under his outstretched arm and heard the latch click and the lock throw with delicious finality before I even turned around.

  Arrow caught my hand on the way past and tugged me through the dimly lit place, straight into his bedroom.

  The only light was from his phone screen, which was docked on the small side table.

  The pillows were tossed around, and on one side, the blankets were drawn back as if he’d been getting ready to go to bed.

  Still saying nothing, he turned, pulled the hoodie I was wearing over my head, and tossed it near our feet. I stepped out of my shoes, and Arrow shoved the sweatpants down my legs, leaving me only in a pair of red boxers.

  My fingers delved into the waistband of his sweats, took a moment to caress the skin beneath, then pushed them toward the floor.

  Taking my hand, he led me to the side with the blankets turned down. I slid between the sheets with an audible sigh. Arrow climbed in right after me, and I held out my arm. With him tucked so close, I almost supported all his weight. With the calming feel of his slow breathing against my neck, all was right in my world.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out the reason my apartment no longer felt like home. Arrow wasn’t in it. He was my home now, no matter how conflicted it sometimes made me.

  With a deep sigh, he settled even closer. I tugged the blankets around us farther and closed my eyes.

  Sleep ended up not being so hard to come by after all.

  They changed my hair.

  I agreed to it. Everything else in life was changing, so why not that, too? Besides, dying it blond all the time was getting kinda old. I had a feeling I was gonna have a lot more important things to do in the coming months.

  And maybe if I changed it up, people would stop calling me the Biebs. I didn’t want to be known as a celeb lookalike or Lorhaven’s kid brother. I was my own man, and though I might have hidden from it for a long time, times were changing.

  It wasn’t just me anymore. There was Hopper. We were working toward an us, and it excited me as much as it blew my mind.

  The morning of the GearShark interview, I woke up in my new place with Hopper wrapped around me. I lay there taking in his weight, the way it felt to be pressed into the mattress, and waited for panic to set in.

  Since I moved in, there wasn’t one night Hopp hadn’t slept here. That first night, we went to our separate places, but it didn’t last. We found each other in the hallway, both of us lost and searching for the thing we knew would make us found.

  Each other.

  Now we slept at my place because he said he liked it better here. This apartment was a little more comfortable compared to his, but it wasn’t because of anything I did. I gave all that credit to Joey.

  Usually we would crawl into bed and I would curl up into his side, my head on his shoulder. I liked the way his fingertips skimmed over my back when I lay on him. It was something I looked forward to almost from the minute we got out of bed in the morning, knowing later that night he’d repeat the action.

  We didn’t shift much in sleep. I fell alseep on him and mostly woke up that way.

  Yet this time, at some point during the night, I’d shifted and he followed.

  I was the one on my back, and Hopper was the one at my side, his leg flung over mine, partly lying ac
ross my chest, and his arm wrapped around my waist.

  The panic didn’t come.

  I didn’t feel trapped or pinned. I didn’t feel an immediate urge to shove him off and reclaim all the personal space I thought I needed.

  Turns out this morning I didn’t need any personal space, not from Hopp.

  I smiled to myself and reached for his tangled hair. Absentmindely, I began to stroke it, enjoying the softness of every strand and the way his chest felt as it rose and fell against mine with every breath he took.

  It wasn’t much later when I felt him wake. His body didn’t stay as relaxed against mine, which was a dead giveaway. I continued playing with his hair until he looked up, balancing his chin on top of his hand on my chest.

  “You okay?”

  I nodded. “Feels good.”

  Hopper rose up and met my lips with a kiss. It was a slow wake-up kiss, involving a lot of tongue and lip rubbing. All our kisses were really good—the spark between us was undeniable—but this one was a little different.

  It was better.

  He was fully on top of me, elbows on either side of my head, our legs tangled together, our chests touching, as were our cocks.

  Suddenly, I couldn’t imagine not experiencing this. It seemed impossible something so delicious would ever give me anxiety.

  As we kissed, I reached around, pulling Hopper closer against me.

  He groaned and his hips thrust against mine.

  I responded by doing the same, and we ended up settling into a rhythmic movement of rubbing our dicks together in sweet torture. Need suffused my skin and my body temperature rose about ten degrees. I felt an urge stronger than ever to be close to him, to feel him in ways I hadn’t before.

  Hopper lifted his mouth from mine, then dropped his face to the side of my neck to press hot, wet kisses against the sensitive skin.

  I slid my hands down his back, beneath the waistband of his boxers, and cupped his ass. My fingers dug in, kneading the flesh as I lifted my hips to meet his.

  Hopper raised his head and looked at me beneath half-lowered lids. Boldly, I rubbed his ass again, giving it a squeeze and then massaging deep. His eyes closed with pleasure, and I claimed his mouth again.