Chapter Three

Alex had spotted Ethan soon after he’d arrived at the party. Lanita hadn’t been joking when she’d said how good he looked these days. In the seven or eight years since Alex had seen him last, he had bloomed from wholesome athletic twink into a hot-as-hell man. His face was fuller than before, and he was broader across the shoulders than Ethan remembered. His hair, which had been very ginger back in the day, was a soft, paler shade, more blond than it had been. He must have lightened it, Alex thought. The new colour suited him.

He was well-dressed, and even in a room that was filled with premier league players, Ethan stood out, more handsome and more appealing than the rest of them.

Was he always that hot? Alex wondered.

Ethan had been a good-looking man in his twenties, there could be no denying that, but Alex had never really fancied him. That may have been swayed by his impression of him when they’d first met. Alex had had no time for self-important, trumped-up little shits, and that was exactly what Ethan had been. Not necessarily his own fault… Ethan’s potential on the track had been spotted early, and from the age of fourteen he’d been groomed and disciplined for medal-winning success.

Tell a kid he’s the best thing ever and he’ll soon start to believe it.

Alex had seen it in other sports stars. They couldn’t be that committed and dedicated to their game without losing another part of themselves. Too often that was the human side—empathy and consideration of others.

Huge achievements in the sporting arena didn’t have to come at the expense of good manners, but more often than not they did.

Ethan Bower had been a classic case.

Alex had signed a contract for the book and started researching Ethan’s background before they’d ever met. If they had, perhaps he wouldn’t have committed to the project. Ethan had wanted a sanitised, airbrushed version of his life, focusing on his achievements rather than the man. That wasn’t the way Alex worked. He believed that a biography should be about more than triumphs. It should tell the story of the whole person, warts and all.

At first Ethan had seemed cool with that. He’d insisted that it was what he’d wanted too.

It had become obvious very early that it was not the case, however. Ethan didn’t give half the time he should have to their interviews, leaving Alex to fill in the blanks from his press clippings and PR people. When Alex had pressed him for more, Ethan had thrown tantrums.

“Do you own fucking job and let me do mine,” he’d snarled when Alex had asked for an afternoon of his time to talk through his childhood experiences. “No one wants to read that shit. Just write about my medals. You can watch all the clips on YouTube. You don’t need me for that.”

Charming. But as Alex had hung around the track and training ground, he’d soon learned that Ethan spoke to everyone in the same contemptuous way—from his mother, to his coach, to the Big Issue seller outside.

There was only one word to describe him…obnoxious. For a long time, that had been Alex’s working title for the book.

It suited Ethan better than any other.

He’d tried to remain impartial and write it up as blandly as he could, but in trying to capture Ethan’s voice, he must have allowed some of Ethan’s shitty personality to creep into the manuscript. Afterwards, no one had ever complained expect for Ethan. The publisher had been pleased with the result, and the book had scored favourable reviews. Though it didn’t trouble the higher end of the best-seller chart, it had sold well enough in the pre-Christmas market too, which had added to Alex’s value as a journalist and ghostwriter.

He wondered whether Ethan still harboured a grudge after all these years. Had he mellowed with time, matured emotionally as well as physically or was he still an obnoxious prick?

Alex’s curiosity was aroused, but he had other things to do tonight.

With his name on the cover of Fernando’s book, the serious sports journalists were keen to talk to him, though the tabloids and supermarket magazines gave him a wide berth. Just as well. Alex hated all that celebrity crap. As he worked the room, speaking to all the right people, he noticed Ethan moving through the crowd, giving interviews to all those light-weight publications he himself avoided.

As subjects, Ethan and Fernando couldn’t have been more different. Where Ethan had been obstructive and uninterested in the writing of his biography, Fernando had been very much involved. Alex had spent a full week with the footballer to begin, recording hours of interview footage. He used to send Fernando each chapter after he’d completed it, and Fernando would send it back with notes and comments on other things he remembered and wanted to have included.

The only things Ethan and Fernando had in common were the facts that they were heroes in their chosen field—and they were both gay.

Ethan hadn’t wanted his sexuality mentioned in any way when Alex had written his book, although it was an open secret within the industry, and by the time the biography was published in paperback six months after the hardback edition, Ethan had already come out in the press. Ethan’s decision to come out rendered the book out of date and obsolete from the start.

Alex had always suspected it was an act of self-sabotage on Ethan’s part.

Why is he getting under my skin? Alex wondered. After all this time, when he should be focused on Fernando, Ethan was distracting him tonight.

Is it because Ethan is my only disappointment? The one subject I failed to do justice to?

If he wrote about him now and Ethan was still the biggest dickhead in the world, he would do a much better job. He would chip away his rough edges until he found the heart of his subject. That was the truth, he realised. He’d let them both down. Seeing Ethan here at the launch had forced him to face that fact.

And as Alex talked to various journalists, applauding Fernando’s bravery for coming out, his eyes were drawn back to Ethan—seeking him out, searching the room as he moved around the crowd, finding him more attractive with every moment.

The question lingered. What’s he like now? Still an arrogant bastard…or has he mellowed with age?

Alex realised he would not be satisfied until he found the truth.

When the requests for interviews and quotes died down, he sought Ethan out, pushing through the crowd until he found him. He was standing at the bar…alone. There would never be a better time.

Alex held back a moment, observing. Ethan was taller than he remembered, and with the increased bulk across his shoulders, he had a very statuesque physique. His clothes looked well made, and he wore them well. Something stirred within Alex, an excitement that caused his whole body to tingle and concentrate in his groin. Ethan Bower roused him in a way he would never have thought possible.

Alex knew that attraction would die in seconds if Ethan was the same bullish prick he used to know.

Only one way to find out.

“Hello, Ethan,” he said, stepping up beside him. “It’s been a long time.”

As Ethan turned to look at him, there was uncertainty on his face just for a second before his mouth spread into a wide grin. There were short dimples that cut into his cheeks when he smiled—Alex had forgotten about those—and he had a day’s worth of stubble on his chin, which suited him a lot. Any more would give away his natural ginger colouring, which the careful highlights in his hair tried to disguise.

“Alex,” he said, shoving out his hand. “Congratulations. I had no idea you were involved in the book until I arrived.”

He pumped Alex’s hand harder than necessary. Over-compensating? Nervous? Ethan had never struck him as a man who suffered from social anxiety, but the way he grabbed his drink off the bar and knocked off a third of it in one go suggested that maybe he was.

Or he’s pissed off to see me and too polite to say so.

“You’re looking good. I was sorry to hear about all the injuries. I thought you’d be good for one more round of medals.”

Ethan shrugged. “They come to all of us. You can’t push your body so hard for all those years and not expect consequences. It would be nice to have added another Olympics to the tally, but it is what it is. I can’t do anything about it now.”

Alex’s gaze was drawn to Ethan’s stunning green eyes. Shit. How could I have forgotten about those? They were mesmerizing. There had definitely been a change in his face since they’d seen each other last. There were deep lines around his eyes and the corners of his mouth, and there could even be a touch of grey in the hair around his ears. Alex realised he had known Ethan when he had still been a boy. The person who stood in front of him now was all man.

“It’s nice to run into you after all this time,” Alex said. “I had no idea who was coming tonight.”

Those green eyes looked deep into his. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it. This is going to the biggest sports book of the year. Everyone is interested in Fernando’s story—not just here, but worldwide. You’re onto a real winner with this one.”

Alex shrugged. “It’s his story, not mine. I just helped to put it on the page for him.”

“Did Fernando seek you out personally? I kind of think he must have. None of those straight dude football writers could tell it with the authenticity of another gay man.”

“He did—and for that very reason, I think. He felt more comfortable talking to a gay writer. The publishers were torn. They wanted either a much bigger name or an anonymous ghostwriter who would do what they were told and wouldn’t ask for credit.”

Ethan gave a soft laugh. “You mean like my book?”

“Those were different times.”

“I guess so. And we were different people. I know I was.”

Can this be true? Was Ethan admitting he’d been an arsehole in his younger days? “Everyone is different in their twenties. I don’t think we really grow up until we’re around thirty. Look at Fernando. He was twenty-nine when he finally came out, despite knowing he was gay all his life.”

Ethan nodded and took another sip of his drink. “Everything turns out all right in the end, I suppose. What about you? Do you still live around here? You had a place in Manchester back then, right?”

“Yes. Not too far away. I have an apartment in Salford. It’s not very big, but it’s enough for me. It’s close to where we record the podcast and has good transport links for when I need to travel.”

“You live on your own then, do you?”

What is this? he wondered. Why is Ethan interested in my personal life?

“Yes, just me,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about getting a cat, but I’m usually away two or three times a week, so it wouldn’t be fair.”

“No boyfriend?” he asked, his eyes widening. “You were with that radio producer, weren’t you? Back in the day.”

Alex laughed. “Justin? That was about seven years ago. He’s married now—and a daddy. No, it’s just me. All by myself, like the song says.”

Ethan smiled. A long silence followed. They were two men who knew each other but were, in fact, strangers—a stranger who Alex had written the life story of.

“How about you?” he asked. “Still living in Northumberland?”

“Yeah. Same area as before, but a different house. Right on the coast. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s a lovely area of the world. Actually, I’ll be up that way next week. I’m covering an athletics tournament for the radio.”

“You are?” Ethan’s face brightened. “In Gateshead? So am I. I’m commentating for the BBC.”

“Small world, eh? After all these years, running into each other again.”

“It sure is.”

The conversation was broken by a tap on Alex’s shoulder. He turned to find a young man in a slick suit, with an even slicker haircut.

“Excuse me, Mr Shaefer,” the man said. “They are ready to start the signing session.”

“Be right there,” Alex said, before turning back to Ethan. “Duty calls. It was nice running into you again. Hopefully I’ll see you next week.”

He couldn’t resist giving that handsome face and body another once-over.

“Hold on,” Ethan said, grabbing his forearm to stop him leaving. “I’m not going anywhere for a while. How about meeting in the bar for a drink when you’re done? It’ll be nice to have a proper catch up.”

Wow. Are you the real Ethan Bower or just somebody who happens to look like him?

“Okay,” he said. “That would be cool. But I don’t know how long this is going to last. It could take a while.”

Ethan grinned, his eyes crinkling and his dimples deepening in an irresistible way. “I don’t have anywhere else to go except a boring hotel room. I’ll wait in the main bar out front. Come find me when you’re ready.”

Alex looked at him incredulously. He’s flirting.

“All right,” he said, returning the smile. “I’ll see you later.”