Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“I was such a dick. I dug holes for myself all over the place. And unfortunately, I wasn’t man enough to be in a relationship with an out-and-proud guy who was president of the LGBTQ club and wore pink unicorn shirts every other day.
“Losing Mitch sucked, but looking at myself in the mirror and realizing I was my own worst enemy was even harder. I did some serious soul-searching after a particularly ugly night of excess at a college party. Let me give you a word of advice.…Never try to make a gay man jealous by getting frisky with a girl in his best friend’s roommate’s bed.”
“No shit. You did that?”
“Yeah. I told you, I was jerk. Anyway, the aftermath was my wake-up call. I burned bridges, pissed off some good people, and had to beg forgiveness from Mitch and a really cool girl who, thankfully, is still a friend of mine. And then, I came out. It wasn’t pretty, but I did it. My only regret is that I didn’t do it sooner.”
“Did you do it to win Mitch back?”
“No. He’d already met Evan by then, but that’s okay. Evan is perfect for him. They’re happy and life goes on. Any other questions?”
“Yeah. Why did you tell that little girl you have a crush on me?”
“ ’Cause I do. And the awesome part is, I know you have one on me. Even if you didn’t, I’d still like you. You’re a cool dude dork. Irresistible combo for me. You’re like Clark Kent before he turns in to Superman. If you wore glasses too, I’d be a fuckin’ wreck. I betcha I’d walk around with a boner twenty-four seven.”
“God, I’ve been thinking the same thing about you for weeks.” I winced the second the words left my mouth. “I mean…’cause you’re so smart. Glasses would be a sexy addition. Hot guy with tats and glasses. Geez, just don’t tell me you want me to change into one of those wrestler singlet things. I’m half-hard already.”
Rory barked a quick laugh and gave me a salacious once-over, lingering on my crotch before making eye contact.
“Since I kinda like my job here, I’m not gonna touch you. Okay…just one little…” He cupped my balls through my workout shorts, then stepped back nonchalantly. He snickered like a kid when I swatted him away and clandestinely adjusted myself.
“Not funny,” I hissed.
“Sure, it is.” He raised his hands in surrender and sobered. “I know it’s not easy, but try not to worry about what everyone thinks, baby.”
“I’m assuming you’re not talking about touching my junk in public.”
“No. I’m talking about letting a kid know I’m gay. I know how it feels to care what everyone else thinks. I used to care way too fucking much. But it’s a lot of work, and if you apply simple mathematics, you begin to realize the return ain’t worth it.”
“Huh?”
Rory squinted, then pointed at my chest. “Nobody is as invested in your life as you. Period. Not your mom, your dad, or best fuckin’ friend. Nobody else walks in your shoes or sees through your eyes or feels what you do. Even when they want to, they can’t. So why should I care if Joey’s mommy and daddy are pissed I told their kid I’m gay? I’m not teaching sex ed here. I’m stating a fact. My eyes are blue, the sky is blue, the locker room smells like dirty gym socks.…I’m bi. I said gay instead of bi to avoid a lengthy discussion with an eight-year-old, but the way I see it is, I told the truth. Nothing fancy about it. No hidden agenda. I’m not starting a club and recruiting new members. I’m only keeping it real for myself.”
I held his stare. Sure, I agreed with the sentiment and I respected his viewpoint. But I didn’t want to engage in a “coming-out” conversation when all I could say was, “I’m scared,” or “I’m not ready.” It sounded cowardly and weak. I thought I was better than that, but maybe I wasn’t.
I gestured toward the mats when I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“So what are we doing here?”
“Wrestling, remember?”
“Um…I don’t wrestle. And even if I did, neither of us is dressed for it.”
Rory’s gaze roamed over my basic black workout shorts and white tee. He lingered on my crotch for a moment, then glanced down at his similar ensemble with a grin. His shorts were dark gray, but his shirt matched his eyes and—fuck, he was sexy.
“We aren’t doing anything crazy. I might cop a feel, but I promise I won’t yank your shorts down.” He paused before adding, “Unless you want me to.”
I hooked my thumb toward the occupied machines. “I do, but we aren’t alone. Why don’t we lift weights or jump on a treadmill?”
“ ’Cause that’s boring.”