by M. E. Parker
chapter one
Chance
I rolled over in bed and grabbed the phone from my night stand to check the time. It was just a little after 5 a.m. I didn’t need to be up for another hour, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. So, I laid there. Staring up into the darkness. Thinking. I broke up with Natalie a couple of days ago. Thanksgiving break was around the corner. The last game of the season was less than a week away. It was a wonder I’d managed to sleep at all.
The walls of my tiny dorm room felt like they were closing in around me. I couldn’t breathe. There was a reason breaking up with Natalie had caused me so much stress, just like there was a reason I dreaded going home to Wytheville for Thanksgiving, and it was the same reason I had questioned my future in football. I had a secret I’d locked away years ago, in some place so well hidden that I’d managed pretty well to pretend it didn’t exist for the better part of five years.
There were even times I forgot about it, rare moments when I believed the lies I told myself. But as time went on, those moments became fewer and farther between and, eventually, they stopped coming altogether. For the last few months, I’d spent nearly every waking moment thinking about it. There was no more wondering. No more praying to be different. No more excuses. I’m gay, I thought to myself. It felt good to finally admit it. I’d never said the words out loud. But there was a freedom in letting go of the internal struggle I’d held onto for years. I was gay. That was it. Nothing more to it.
The only question was, what was I going to do about it? The only answer I’d come up with so far was, nothing. I wasn’t going to do anything about it. There was nothing to do about it. Except what I had been doing, which was watching gay porn on the iPad I kept locked away in my desk drawer. When I needed relief, I’d jerk off while I imagined myself with another man. It was my only choice, really. There were times when I considered signing up for a hook-up app. But those were for people who wanted to have anonymous sex. Even if I’d found the idea appealing, it wasn’t an option for me. I’d been the starting quarterback at Gilcrest University for three years straight. I didn’t have the luxury of anonymity. I was small town famous. There probably wasn’t one person within a hundred miles of the campus who wouldn’t recognize my face.
There were times when I thought about how freeing it would feel to say fuck it and just come out. Most people wouldn’t care. That was true. I knew gay people. I had gay professors. I no longer lived in Wytheville, North Carolina, where there were only two queer people in the entire town, including myself. College made me realize that gay people were everywhere. They weren’t just on T.V. But those people were not the son of Reverend Charles M. Wyrick, pastor of the Wytheville Methodist Church. People from surrounding counties traveled to Wytheville to hear his sermon every Sunday. He performed every funeral, wedding, christening, and baptism for almost every single person I’d known growing up. Living or dead. Everyone loved the man. Even those who didn’t bother with going to church loved him.
If I was honest with myself, it wasn’t just my father who held me back. It was also football. I’d been around the game, the players, and the coaches long enough to know there were basically three ways the football community viewed homosexuality. A lot of them just didn’t give a shit; as long as you played the game well, sexuality was irrelevant. Of course, there was still a small group that were bigots—the ones who would proudly make crude and inappropriate jokes in the locker room and on the field, who would look me in the eye and call me disgusting to my face, if they knew. They weren’t the ones that scared me the most. It was the ones who would say they weren’t bothered by it, for the sake of political correctness, but secretly found the idea of two men together disgusting. Those were the guys I worried about—the ones who would pretend that everything was cool, when it wasn’t. Maybe I was paranoid, but I hated the idea of not knowing who had my back. It wasn’t just other players I had to worry about. I also had to worry about coaches, league officials, and fans. It was exhausting to think about. And to top it off, football wasn’t even fun for me anymore. All my life, I’d dreamed of playing football professionally. That dream was finally within my grasp and I wasn’t excited about it anymore.
I groaned out loud and got out of bed. There was no sense in lying there driving myself crazy. When I stepped in the shower and let the warm water pour over me, I tried to think about the plays we would be running in practice later that day. But I couldn’t. Natalie’s face kept popping up in my head. Her clear blue eyes were filled with tears which flowed down her cheeks when I told her I didn’t think we were right for each other. She was beautiful. Probably one of the most beautiful girls on campus. And she was sweet and kind. I’d just strung her along for the last four months, leading her to believe we had a future together.
It had gotten so easy. She wasn’t the first girl I’d treated that way. It was the same with all of them. There had been a string of them since I started college. I would take them out on dates once every week or two. I’d tell them how much I liked them. I would kiss them goodnight and, when things got too physical, I’d break it off. I was a selfish bastard. It made me sick to think about how many women I’d led on. It was all part of my cover, of course. If I was dating a girl, the guys wouldn’t give me shit about not hooking up at parties.
It made me sick to my stomach to think about Natalie’s face when I told her. I’d really hurt her. Even worse, she thought there was something wrong with her. I’d made her feel that way. I thought about us kissing on her couch in her apartment that night. When her hand drifted down to my dick and nothing happened, I knew I couldn’t pretend anymore. I hated myself. No more girls. I wasn’t going through that again, and I wasn’t going to put another woman through it. I was going to concentrate on football and my classes. That was it.
I changed into some workout clothes, sat down at my desk, and drew. It was the only thing that brought me peace anymore. My father and football coaches tried to discourage me from applying to the School of Architecture, for fear it would take away from my time on the football field, but I’d ignored them. I was glad I had. I opened my sketch pad and got lost in a design as my fingers furiously sketched across the page.
When the alarm on my phone sounded at seven a.m., I couldn’t believe an hour had already passed. I put my pencil down and went to the window, as I had done almost every morning for the last few years. I was lucky enough my freshman year to get a private room in the dorm. As a junior, I was allowed to move to an apartment. But I’d decided to stay in the dorm for another year. I liked the solitude of my small room and I also liked that almost every morning, a couple of minutes after seven, I had a perfect view of Andy jogging past my building on the running path below.
I’d told myself it was my way of looking out for him. It was my way of keeping a small part of that promise we’d made to each other all those years ago. But the truth was, I’d never been able to make myself stop thinking about Andy Michaelson. If I was honest with myself, he was the reason I was at Gilcrest. I hadn’t spoken to him in years, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop wanting to be close to him. I couldn’t stop hating myself for the way I’d treated him. I caught a glimpse of him turning the corner. I recognized his stride immediately. He was wearing black running tights and a long-sleeved GU t-shirt. He had gotten taller since high school. He’d filled out a bit as well.
I shook my head as I thought about seeing him the other day at a coffee shop on campus. He was with a guy. They held hands. The guy kissed him on the cheek when Andy handed him a cup of coffee. I remembered the unexpected jealousy that rose up in my chest. Maybe I was jealous of Andy. He was free to be himself. Maybe that was it. But that didn’t explain why I wanted to punch the other guy in the face.
He stopped just below my window and bent down to tie his shoe. He ran his fingers through his hair just like he used to when we were kids. It made me think of the first time I met him. We were only six…
“Look, Mom. There’s a ki
d in the yard next door,” I said to my mother as I firmly pressed my face against the window of our minivan. She laughed as we pulled into the driveway of our new home.
“Yep. There sure is. He looks like he’s about your age, too,” she said.
“Yeah. What do you think he’s doing?” I asked as my excitement mounted with the thought of having a boy my age living next door to us. I studied him further. He was on his knees in the yard, crouched over.
My mother’s laughter drifted towards the back of the minivan. I wasn’t sure why she was laughing or why she didn’t seem to think the little boy was as intriguing as I did. “I don’t know. Maybe you should go over and find out.”
“I should,” I said, sliding the door open to the van, not wanting to waste another second.
“Be polite and introduce yourself. And don’t go out of the yard. Stay where I can see you. Chance, did you hear me?”
I was already halfway to him when I called back to her, “Okay, Mom.”
I stopped short of where he was and cleared my throat. “Umm...what are you doing?” I asked. His head snapped around and he looked up at me. I noticed first that his eyes were green, not boring and brown like my own. And his hair, it was brown, but it also had yellow and red streaks through it. I liked it.
He studied me for a second and then a toothy grin spread across his face. That’s when I took notice of his freckles. “You’re the new kid, aren’t you?” he asked.
I nodded. “We just moved here today.”
He smiled again. “My mom said you were coming.”
“She did?” I wondered how she knew I was coming.
“Yeah. What’s your name? I’m Andy.”
“My name’s Chance.”
He laughed. “That’s a funny name.”
I wrinkled my eyebrows. It was a funny name, but there was no need for him to point it out. “No, it’s not,” I said.
“I like it,” he said, smiling bigger, causing me to smile back at him.
“So, what are you doing?”
“I’m picking these flowers,” he said, holding up a handful of dandelions. “If you blow on them after you make a wish, it might come true.”
“Nuh-uh.” I shook my head, wondering if he was crazy.
“It’s true. My dad told me. You wanna try one?” he asked, holding one out towards me. I dropped down next to him and took the flower.
He held one up in front of his lips and closed his eyes. “I wish for chocolate cake for dinner,” he said before he blew on the flower, and I watched all the seeds drift through the air like tiny snowflakes. He opened his eyes and grinned. “Okay, your turn.”
I did the same thing he did and said, “I wish for a new bike.” I looked over at him. “Okay, now what?”
He shrugged. “Now we wait to see if our wishes come true.”
We sat there quietly for a second and a small part of me wondered if a chocolate cake or a new bicycle might appear. He looked over at me and he ran his hand through his hair just above his forehead. “Hey, do you have a best friend?” I shook my head. “Do you wanna be mine?” he asked.
I hadn’t even noticed I was smiling until a knock at my door startled me from my thoughts as I watched Andy disappear down the running path. “Yo, Wyrick. Let’s go!” Travis’ deep voice bellowed through the door.
I opened the door and my buddy, Travis, was leaning against the doorframe smiling. “What are you waiting for? The sun is shining. The birds are singing. It’s a beautiful day. Time to go clear our minds and strengthen our bodies.”
I snorted and fell on my bed to put on my shoes. “It’s weight training, not a yoga retreat.”
Travis crossed the room in several long strides and sat down at my desk chair. He crossed his legs, folded his hands in his lap, and looked over at me. “I see that you’re still in a funk today.”
I rolled my eyes as I tied my shoes. “I’m not in a funk. I don’t know why you keep saying that.”
“Yes, you are. You’ve been in a funk all season. Talk to me, bro.”
If I was ever gonna talk to anyone on the team, it would be Travis. But I couldn’t. “There’s nothing to talk about, man. I’m good.”
He shook his head. “You know, talking about your shit to someone can help. I’d ask if it was about you and Natalie breaking up, but this started before that. What’s going on?”
“There’s nothing. I’m good,” I repeated, hoping he’d take the hint.
In a rare moment of seriousness, Travis looked me in the eye. “We both know you’re not good. I’m here, man, when you’re ready to talk about it.”
I laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “As much as I’ve enjoyed this little therapy session, we better get going or Coach is gonna have our asses.”
Travis grinned. “You at least gonna tell me why you broke up with Natalie? That woman is fine.”
I chuckled. “You should ask her out.”
“What? You serious, man?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, but only if you’re serious about her. She deserves someone who will treat her good.”
He furrowed his brow. “Okay. On the level, what’s wrong with her? She got an extra toe or something?”
I snorted. “No, man, there’s nothing wrong with her. I just wasn’t feeling it.”
He sat back in the chair. “Huh.”
I rolled my eyes. “Come on. We’re late.”
As he followed me out of my dorm room, he asked, “Do you think she’s open to dating a man of the chocolate variety?”
I laughed. “If she won’t go out with you, it won’t be because you’re black, it’ll be because you’re butt ugly.”
Travis’ deep, rich laughter echoed down the hallway. I smiled. It was funny. Because Travis James was anything but ugly. He was six feet four inches of hard muscle. His skin was the color of coffee and cream. His features were sharp, and when he smiled laughter danced in his dark eyes. By anyone’s account, he was hot. Not to mention, he was a great big teddy bear and the most sought-after wide receiver in the nation.
Even if Travis was into guys, which he definitely was not, he wasn’t my type. I shook my head as we entered the athletic complex on campus. My type had the body of a runner. He had green eyes with bits of amber in them that sparkled when he laughed. He had shaggy hair that most people would call brown, but they’d be wrong because it had a million shades of wheat, auburn, and mahogany. He had freckles scattered across his nose, and his cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink when he was embarrassed or mad. Andy.
I rolled my eyes as I sat down on the gym floor to stretch. It didn’t matter what my feelings were for Andy. There was absolutely no reason to try to sort them out. I’d screwed everything up years ago and it couldn’t be fixed.
chapter two
Andy
As I left the coffee shop, I waved across the street to Sam, who was busy sweeping the sidewalk in front of the bakery where I worked. I never got tired of taking in the scenery around Gilcrest. The streets were made of red brick and lined with quaint little shops and cafes. Most of the buildings were rich with history, designed and built in the late 1800’s. There was so much green space surrounded by picturesque mountain views, that you felt like you were traveling back to another time once you found your way to campus.
I walked at a quick pace. The November morning air was frigid. I glanced up past the gigantic maple tree that marked the corner of Mark’s building. The leaves were almost gone. The sun that was out when I started my run had disappeared behind the clouds, and the entire sky was gray. It was too early in the season for snow, but the air smelled of it. I was shivering by the time I reached the stairs that led up to Mark’s apartment. The extra-large cup of coffee I held in my hand helped to take the chill off.
It was a peace offering. I’d left Mark at Wild Orchid last night. He wanted to stay, and I wanted to go. So, I called an Uber and left. I had an Organic Chemistry test to study for. He was already three sheets to the wind when I asked him to take me hom
e, so I knew he’d be hung over. He’d acted like a bit of an asshole about the whole thing, but I tended to overlook his temper tantrums because I knew I wasn’t the perfect boyfriend either. I was hoping the coffee would coax him into forgiving me. I was also hoping for a hot shower and a quick blowjob before I had to get back to my apartment and get ready for class.
I took the stairs two at time and froze as soon as I reached the landing. My hand shook as soon as I saw Christopher standing in front of Mark’s door. Mark was standing in the doorway with his arm resting on the doorframe, wearing nothing but his underwear. The little blonde-headed twink was wearing the same black skinny jeans he’d had on the night before. His pink shirt was untucked and wrinkled. His laughter grated on my nerves. He’d been eyeing Mark all night. I should have known. “So, my ass might need a day or two to recover, but I’d totally be up for another round,” he said, looking up at Mark, batting his eyelashes.
I watched as Mark grabbed Christopher’s ass and pulled him against him. “You’ve got my number and now you know where I live,” he said before he smacked his ass, which caused a little yelp to escape from his lips. As soon as Christopher turned to leave, our eyes met, and a knowing smirk spread across his face. “Whoopsie... awkward...” he sing-songed as he pushed past me.
I looked up at Mark and he was staring at me like a deer caught in headlights. “Andy, what are you doing here?” he rasped. I took a few steps forward and held out the coffee.
My hand was still shaking. “I brought you coffee. I thought you might be hung over,” I said as he took it from my hand. I turned abruptly and took off down the stairs.
“Andy, wait,” Mark called out. “Can we at least talk about this?”
I turned around when I reached the bottom of the stairs. “There’s nothing left to talk about.” I meant it. There wasn’t. I’d tolerated a lot of shit from Mark, but him cheating on me was the last straw.