by Felix Brooks
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22: Epilogue
Coming Attraction by Felix Brooks and Andrea Dalling.
© 2017 Andrea Dalling.
Amazon Kindle Edition.
Edited by Pair of Nines.
Cover design by Artesian Well Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations embodied within critical reviews and articles.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
The author has asserted her rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book.
This book contains sexually explicit content which is suitable only for mature readers.
LoveLight Press electronic publication: October 2017.
http://lovelightpress.com
Coming Attraction is set in North Carolina, and as such uses American English throughout.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22: Epilogue
Get Your Free Bonus Books!
Chapter 1
January 1, 2017
Waseem al-Ahmad made his way through the darkness and entered the bar on Raleigh’s Hillsborough Street. Through the crowd of New Year’s revelers, he looked for his football buddies. One of the TVs above the bar replayed the shot of him catching the winning touchdown earlier that day, the one that had secured the Coastal College Pirates the division championship. Joy blossomed in his chest, but it was bittersweet.
Waseem hadn’t known how much he would come to love playing football. His high school team had been a ragtag bunch, and he’d developed no ambitions. Playing at Coastal was supposed to help him get a teaching job with some coaching on the side. He hadn’t known that his best friend Emmett Cross would mature into pro material, and raise the level of Waseem’s game the way he did.
Part of Waseem envied Emmett. Waseem wished he’d worked harder, that he’d taken that shot. But it was too late now. With that winning catch, his college football days had come to a close. At least as a player. Maybe one day he’d be good enough to coach at a college level. For now, his plan was to seek a high school position. He had a talent for teaching other players and helping them succeed. If he could make a living at that, he’d be a happy man.
“Waseem!” The voice carried across the bar. Waseem turned in that direction. Brent Adams wore one of his famous smirking grins, a shock of dirty-blond hair falling over his forehead. It seemed like the guy never took anything seriously. He was even more laid back than Waseem was, and that was saying something.
Waseem sauntered over. Brent rose and put his arm around him. Raising a beer mug, Brent said to their buddies. “I’d like to propose a toast to my friend Waseem here, who should have gotten the MVP award for today’s game instead of that loser Emmett Cross.” Brent was teasing about Emmett—he was that kind of a guy—plus he and Emmett were friends. But Waseem appreciated the compliment just the same.
And come to think about it, it felt really fucking good to have Brent’s arm around him. Waseem looked over into those beautiful brown eyes, and his cock twitched a little. But he wasn’t about to let those thoughts go any further. Brent was straight, and had been dating the same girl since high school.
Waseem was just lonely. He had been since he and Garon had broken up. Waseem couldn’t believe he’d been so blind—he’d fallen for the guy’s charm so completely that he couldn’t see Garon had no ethics. It seemed obvious now. The guy was so chill, he had no passion, no strong beliefs. Still, Waseem had been blindsided when Garon outed Emmett to a sports gossip site, all for the sake of a couple hundred bucks.
Waseem’s family was fairly well off, so he couldn’t truly empathize with someone who was stretched financially the way Garon was. Still, outing someone was dangerous. Some lines shouldn’t be crossed.
As Waseem sat, the waitress came over. “Club soda, and keep it coming,” he requested with a smile. The other guys ordered refills on their beers.
Waseem was Muslim and didn’t drink, which had turned out to be convenient. As designated driver he got a lot of invitations and had developed a wide circle of friends. That suited Waseem just fine, because he was an outgoing guy who made friends easily. But that quality hadn’t always served him well in his dating life.
Not like he wanted to settle down. He was twenty-two and intended to enjoy himself. Still, some guys wanted to get with him but then never answered his calls after. They kind of pissed him off. He wasn’t just a good time—he was a human being.
Worse were the guys who responded with slurs about his ethnicity. That never stopped hurting. He could deal with it from strangers, but guys he’d been intimate with? That stung. He knew it was their own self-loathing—they hated themselves because they couldn’t resolve the conflict between their attraction and their bigotry. Waseem was working on becoming more discerning. The problem was, he looked for the best in people. As it turned out, a lot of people didn’t deserve that.
It didn’t help that he looked like he did. He was big and muscular, and guys got swoony around him. He thought it was adorable. But the fact they were hot for him didn’t mean they liked him. It was a hard lesson, and he’d learned it one too many times.
But that night, he wasn’t at the bar to hook up. He was with friends, celebrating a big victory that capped off his college football career. This was a story they’d be telling at Coastal for years.
“With you and Emmett graduating,” Brent said, “it’ll leave a big hole in our roster.”
“Guess you’ll have to step up, then,” Waseem countered.
Brent knitted his brow, like he hadn’t thought about that before. “Yeah, I might have to. Juergensen here isn’t exactly up to the task.”
Niels Juergensen, with his pale blond hair and ocean blue eyes, raised his brows and gave Brent a bored look. He was the second-string quarterback, and as good as he was, he couldn’t compare to Emmett. “Just wait,” Niels said. “See if I ever put the football in your hands next season, if you keep talking smack about me.”
Brent was a wide receiver, and a good one. Pro material. In the three seasons he’d been playing for Coastal, he’d upped his game steadily. Worki
ng with Emmett had been good for him. With Emmett graduating in the spring, there was a chance Brent would backslide. But on the field, he had a fire about him. That was where his passion came out. The contrast fascinated Waseem.
A squeezing in Waseem’s chest hurt his heart a little. The attraction was inappropriate, but Waseem couldn’t seem to shake it. As they crowded around the table, Brent’s scent filled his nostrils, clean musk and shampoo with undertones of juniper. The pheromones coming off the guy made Waseem a little crazy.
The friends joked together until well into the night. As closing time came, the other guys streamed out toward the hotel where they were staying. But Waseem, whose family lived in the area, had been planning to drive back home.
His family had held a big celebration for him after the game. His aunts, uncles, and cousins had come to his parents’ place for a traditional Pakistani meal. It had wound down early, though, because his grandmother lived with them and liked to be in bed by nine. Which had made it convenient for him to drive back downtown to see his friends. He didn’t anticipate how tired he’d be when it came time to go home.
“Man, I am beat,” he said. “I didn’t expect to be out this late. And I’ve still got a forty minute drive.”
“So stay in my room,” Brent said. “I’ve got a king-sized bed. Plenty of room, and I promise not to bite.”
Waseem’s stomach clenched. That was more temptation than he wanted thrown at him, but what could happen? Brent wasn’t into guys, and even if he were bi, he wouldn’t cheat on his girlfriend. Waseem had never even heard Brent talk about other women. Or men. The guy was committed.
“That’d be great,” Waseem heard himself say. Truth was, he was exhausted and in no shape to drive—even without alcohol.
But most of the other guys were decidedly drunk. Not rowdy, just having a good time. Someone started singing the school song, and a couple of them slung their arms around each other’s shoulders in a brotherly sort of way. Brent did the same to Waseem, and it felt just as good as it had earlier in the evening.
It was dumb for Waseem to think that way. Brent wasn’t into him. He had to put that idea out of his head.
***
The hotel was a short walk away. In the lobby, Waseem stopped at the front desk. “I’m crashing here with a friend tonight,” he said to the pretty young clerk, her light brown hair in a loose bun. Her bright blue eyes were set off by skin so pale it was almost translucent. “Is there a charge for an extra person?”
“Which room?” she asked, typing away.
“Three-eighteen,” Brent said.
“That’ll be ten dollars plus tax. Let me get you a key.”
Waseem handed her the cash. “Do you have a toothbrush?”
“Of course.” She handed him one as the transaction completed. “Breakfast is across the way, from six until ten, and we’ve got coffee twenty-four hours if you want a decaf before bed.”
“Thank you.” Waseem headed to the coffee station, where the other guys were getting their brew. He decided to forgo the decaf and got the robust blend instead.
“Decaf is for losers,” Brent said, sidling next to Niels and choosing the strong stuff as well.
“Fine with me if you don’t want to sleep.”
“I’ll sleep just fine.”
Niels put his arm around Waseem, starting a chorus of “Waseem!” that the others joined. Waseem had no idea why they did that, but it had been happening since his sophomore year, so he just went with it. Emmett might have been the team captain, but Waseem was everyone’s best bud. And he liked it that way.
As they stepped back into the lobby, the clerk asked, “Are you Waseem Al-Ahmad?”
He grinned. “That’s me.”
“Amazing catch today. Seriously, that was one of the best games I’ve seen in a long time. I was rooting for you guys.”
“Why thank you,” Niels said, even though he’d spend about five minutes on the field.
“Y’all have a good night,” she said as they headed for the elevators.
Once they got off at their floor, Waseem followed Brent to their room. It was decent, mostly beige and not as updated as Waseem was used to when he traveled with his parents. But the guys were paying for their rooms themselves—not the college. The group had decided to spend the night in Raleigh before heading to their respective homes for the semester break. Their last hurrah as a team.
A team Waseem was no longer a part of.
It hurt, thinking about that. As a gay Muslim, he felt like an outsider almost everywhere. But as a member of the Pirates, he was beloved. That was the sense he got. He’d never felt so accepted before, and probably never would again.
Sadness weighed on his chest. He took a swig of coffee. “Which side of the bed do you want?”
“Doesn’t matter to me,” Brent said.
“I’m used to the right side, if that’s okay.”
“Fine.”
They sipped their coffee in silence a minute. “I’ll miss you next year,” Brent said, a rare serious expression on his face.
“I’ll miss you guys, too.”
“You start applying for jobs yet?”
“I’ll do that next semester.” Waseem half-sat on the desk. “I’ve got some places in mind, though. I’m looking at schools in the cities—Raleigh, Charlotte, Asheville—because I don’t know how open the small towns will be to a gay coach.”
“That sucks. But I can see how it might be a problem for high school.”
“Yeah, since too many bigots equate gay men with pedophiles.” He spoke matter-of-factly—he ought to be angrier, but he was too tired at that moment. “The cities are more open-minded.”
“You don’t have to tell me how backward the rural towns are.” Brent gave him that sexy smirk that undid him a little. “We had celibacy education in my school, which was basically about how we’d all die if we had sex before marriage.”
Waseem grinned. “Then I’m not sure how I’m still here.”
Something flashed in Brent’s eyes, a look of confusion or something, before he said, “Yeah.”
Waseem tossed his coffee cup. “I’m gonna brush my teeth. You got toothpaste in there?” He nodded toward the bathroom.
“On the vanity.”
When Waseem finished, Brent took his turn in the bathroom. Waseem undressed and slid into bed in his boxers. Brent came out of the bathroom and stripped down to nothing, giving Waseem a brief vision of that firm apple ass before getting under the covers and turning off the light.
Hell. It wasn’t like Waseem hadn’t seen Brent naked a hundred times before. They’d shared a locker room for three years. But this was different. Brent was naked in bed beside him, and Waseem was sporting a completely inappropriate semi. Brent had supported Waseem—even gone to a gay bar with him and their friends a couple of times—and this misplaced attraction seemed like a betrayal of trust.
Not that Waseem would ever do anything. Of course he wouldn’t. But he couldn’t seem to control his body’s treacherous response.
He held tight to his side of the bed, afraid of accidentally brushing up against Brent. Just the thought of the guy being so close had him full to aching. Waseem lay in the dark, his body exhausted from the game, his head swimming from the late night. But he was too keyed up to sleep.
Brent tossed beside him. Apparently he was having the same problem. Coffee had been a bad idea.
“Damn it.” Brent’s voice was low, but he was clearly still awake.
“You okay?”
“Can’t sleep. You?”
“Me neither.”
Brent sighed. “If I were alone, I’d…well, you know. That always does the trick. Wouldn’t want to be rude, though. Unless you want to do it together?”
“What?” Waseem exclaimed. That chased away any hint of sleep.
“It’s not a big deal,” Brent said. “In high school, a friend and I used to study together, and he’d put on porn to take a break. We didn’t touch each other or anything
, so it wasn’t gay. We’d just get off together.”
Waseem let that sit for a minute. He’d been a peer counselor at the college LGBT center, so he knew about behavior like that. And Brent was right, it didn’t mean a man was gay. Lots of guys did that in high school and never had any same-sex experiences after.
So yeah, the guy who had just suggested they get off together, even though he had a girlfriend at home he was committed to, most definitely was not gay.
Probably.
“Brent…” Waseem didn’t know what to say, but he couldn’t just leave the guy hanging. Waseem had to give him an answer. Brent had just put himself out there, and Waseem didn’t want things to get weird between them.
“Sorry,” Brent said, “I just figured that since you’re gay, you wouldn’t be totally against the idea.”
“I’m not. My being gay makes it more awkward. I have to maintain that line between friend zone and boyfriend zone. If a girl suggested the two of you get off together, wouldn’t you have trouble thinking there was nothing sexual between you?”
Silence a moment. “I guess I didn’t think about it like that.”
Waseem lay on his back and stared up into the darkness. Could he do this without it changing his feelings for Brent? It would scratch an itch and maybe get the guy out of his system.
With the blackout curtains drawn, they couldn’t see each other. It wouldn’t have to be weird. And hell, if it did get weird, the two of them never had to see each other again. They were done with football, and Waseem was graduating in the spring.
“Okay, yeah, let’s do it.”
“Are you sure?” Brent asked.
“I’m sure.” Waseem shucked off his boxers before he could change his mind.
“I’ve got lotion in my shaving kit,” Brent said. A drawer opened, followed by the sound of a zipper. A few seconds later, Brent passed him the bottle. The sweet-smelling lotion was on the cold side, but it was better than going dry.
Lying on his back, Waseem reached down and fingered his balls. A puff of air escaped his lips. His body was desperate for this.
Brent let out a deep groan next to him. Waseem could picture him, cock in hand, gently stroking. The picture in his mind was better than porn: Brent’s hard body, with those smooth pecs and bulging arms…and a faint trail of blond hair leading to a stiff erection that Waseem would love to get his lips on.