He seemed so open. Like he really wanted to talk to me.
He snorted. Why would he have? He was probably just being polite! He's a nice person. Don't be silly. Mike is right.
The doubt plagued him. On the way between classes he stared at himself in the window, noting how plain he was. Dark brown hair, wide green-hazel eyes, pale skin. I suppose my face is not too bad...but really, it's not special. He had high cheekbones, a wide mouth, a firm if slightly short nose. And I'm too skinny. He sighed. He was almost sure he would have to forget Isaiah.
“Come on, Carter!” Alex, one of his female friends, appeared. She grinned. “We've got tutorials just now...if we want lunch we'd better hurry!”
“Yeah,” Carter agreed. “I'll come down.”
Alex looked bemused, but nodded. “Okay.”
Carter bit his lip. It wasn't very polite of him to be so quiet. But he couldn't help it! The doubt and strange melancholy were all-consuming.
The thought of never seeing Isaiah again was hard. But he'd have to come to accept it.
“Come on, Carter,” he said brutally. “Stop being stupid.”
He stopped himself before he even looked at his phone and walked briskly on.
The day wore on, more classes and then finally the last one of the day, with his adviser. They were finished.
“Hey, Carter, see you tomorrow!” a friend called on the way past.
“Sure,” Carter called evenly.
He walked down the stairs in a haze. Halfway down he stopped.
This is stupid, he thought. But it's true. I'm so sad.
He stood looking out of the window for a while, wishing that he could stop feeling so upset. But it was difficult.
The sudden chemistry, the new meeting, and then...nothing. No word, no chance. No possibility of seeing each other again.
He shook himself. “What did you expect?” he asked himself harshly, glad everyone else had already left the hallway. “That he wanted to see you? Why would he?”
He glared at his reflection where it looked back from the reflective glass of a window. Why would he? Why'd he want to see you, Skinny-legs?
He walked down the stairs, feeling his eyes blur with tears. As he did so, he was surprised by a sound. It came from his bag.
It was his phone.
He blinked.
Probably your brother. Or Alex. No need to get stressed. No need to be happy. No...
He pulled it out. It was a number he didn't have listed.
He read the text.
Hi, Carter, he read. Just writing to ask if you're free. Can u meet 2nite? Isaiah.
Carter stared. He was halfway between yelling and dropping the phone as if it burned him.
Isaiah had written back. Isaiah. Wrote. To him.
He typed in a reply.
Yes.
A message flashed back instantly.
Where?
Carter swallowed hard. Had that just happened? Really?
He wondered about where they should meet. It would depend on what time. Did Isaiah actually want to go out, or...
What time? Do you have plans?
He waited for a reply, but then shook his head. He's said something, done something. And now he wouldn't write...
I thought maybe some football. How about the school's field?
Carter blinked. Isaiah wanted to play football? How was that possible. He blinked and then laughed.
Well, he thought. He is a football player. What else would he do in his free time?
Still chuckling, Carter wrote a reply.
Okay. Great. See you there at seven-thirty?
He checked his watch. It was almost seven now. If he was quick, he could head to the shop and get something to eat and still be at the field by seven-thirty.
The reply came back in agreement. Okay.
Carter, reading it, slid the phone into his bag. He noticed he was shaking.
Dude, he thought. Be cool.
He couldn't help it. His heart felt as if fireworks were going off. Happy and smiling, he ran down the stairs to the hallway and then out of the door into the chilled night wind beyond.
He’d get something to eat and then to go to meet Isaiah on the field.
7
Carter hurried to the field. He breathed in, glad that he didn't smell of anything more offensive than fresh cologne. He had raced home and showered and then raced back out again, wanting to be early, or at least on time.
At least it's cold enough not to be sweating.
He laughed a little hysterically at his own thought, feeling excitement flow through him. He was here.
On the field, he could see the tall, strong figure, outlined by a light.
It really is him.
Carter slowed his step and entered the field.
His hands were sweating, his heart suddenly thumping. This was the sexiest guy Carter had ever seen and he was here, somewhere, alone.
Carter felt his heart thumping, and shook his head at himself. Why was he feeling scared? Of all the reactions, he wouldn't have expected to feel almost afraid of being alone with someone he was crushing on. But he was.
He cleared his throat and walked in to the field.
“Isaiah?”
The figure he had seen had moved into the shadow, and was walking toward the gate. He was about ten paces away when Carter saw his face. It was him.
“Carter. Hi.”
Isaiah held out a hand and Carter took it. The hand that enveloped his was muscled, the palms hard with years of passing a ball. It was warm and dry, the skin soft. Carter felt himself begin to shudder.
Be cool, he told himself sternly. He smiled up at Isaiah, wiping his own sweating palm on his jeans.
“Good to see you,” he said.
Isaiah grinned. “I think so too.”
Carter swallowed. Then he smiled. “Good to see me, I presume. Not that you think it's good for me to see you.”
Isaiah beamed. “You're the first person I met who'd pick up on that. Nice.”
Carter felt himself glowing. “Thanks,” he said shyly. He looked down. Isaiah was wearing sneakers, he noticed, the strong leg muscles bulging slightly over the edge of the well-formed ankle support.
Carter's mouth was dry, and he swallowed dryly. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't think of anything to say. He coughed and tried to begin something.
“Uh...were you training before you got here?” he asked, indicating the shoes.
“I was, yeah. I also thought it would be fun to practice. Here. Just us.”
Carter swallowed. Had he really heard that? “Uh...Isaiah? I have never played football. Ever. Okay, maybe fifteen years ago.” He chuckled weakly. “But I know nothing.”
Isaiah beamed again. “That's cool. Always good to start with someone who knows nothing. If you don't know the right way, you also don't know the wrong way. And that's great.”
Carter swallowed. Something about his gaze made him feel almost as if they weren't discussing football. It felt intimate. He swallowed and shook his head.
“Come on,” Isaiah said gently. “Let's just try passing the ball, eh?”
“Okay...” Carter swallowed hard. He hated sports. He never felt like he was any good at them. He stood, though, and obediently followed Isaiah onto the field. A lesson with a pro was not to be passed up, especially this pro!
“So,” Isaiah began, giving the ball a slow kick in his direction. “How're things?”
“Okay,” Carter said, nimble running at the ball. He returned it and sighed with some relief.
“Not bad,” Isaiah said, giving him a smile.
“Thanks.”
“So, we can go a bit faster, huh?”
“Not much faster,” Carter protested. Isaiah kicked the ball to him and he passed it back.
“Nice! And how about a throw?” He tossed the ball towards Carter, who clumsily caught it, then threw it back. Isaiah caught it.
“Good. But, you know what? It's easier if you catch i
t like this. Throw to me?”
Carter did so. He felt strange, almost as if this game was not football, but some strange interaction, some means of relating, in which he participated. It was a weird feeling. He felt aroused but also curious. Isaiah demonstrated the catch, then threw it back. Carter dropped it.
“Okay,” Isaiah said, seeing Carter look miserable after the error. “Here. I'll show you. Okay?” He moved to stand behind Carter, his hand on his shoulder.
Carter tensed.
“Here. Now. If you just relax your back...” he moved his finger down Carter's spine and Carter felt as if he had been set on fire. His whole body throbbed with heat. “See?” He had moved Carter's arm forward in a catching motion.
“Yes,” Carter managed to say. He wanted to make a noise, but he felt odd. The feeling of Isaiah's touch was so foreign, but it also felt so absolutely right that he wouldn't want to do anything to stop.
“Good!” Isaiah was still holding his shoulder and he squeezed it gently. “There you are. Ready?”
“I guess,” Carter proffered.
“Great! Here you go!” Isaiah passed the ball, quick and firm. Carter caught it smoothly.
He stared at him. “I just did that?”
Isaiah grinned, then giggled at the expression on his face. “You sure did! What?”
Carter blushed, looking down at his feet. “I’ve never done that before.”
“You're a fast learner, Carter,” Isaiah said. “I like that.”
Carter swallowed hard. “Thanks.” His whole body felt like his nerve-endings burned.
Carter, stop it! How do you know he's interested? But right here, right now, with the fact that Isaiah had invited him here, he couldn't assume much else.
Carter swallowed hard. He felt suddenly nervous when Isaiah bent over and lifted a football.
“Want to try a bit of a game?”
Carter was suddenly nervous. He recalled facing similar tuition when he was six, and feeling stupid.
“Okay,” he said hesitantly.
“Relax,” Isaiah smiled. “It's just me. Or, if you like, we can just relax and have a drink instead?” He lifted his left arm, pointing to the bench from which hung a supermarket bag Carter hadn't noticed.
“Great,” Carter agreed relieved.
Isaiah chuckled. “You shouldn't be so nervous, man. It's just me. I would never hurt you.”
Carter swallowed hard as their eyes met.
Those deep, dark eyes were full of such a soft expression that Carter felt almost as if he would cry. He had never seen anyone look at him with so much care, such fondness.
“Thanks,” he said softly.
“No problem,” Isaiah replied.
They were standing close, and Carter felt the urge to reach out to him, and lifted his hand a fraction. Then he felt silly. Dropped it again. Isaiah had not taken his eyes off him, but he just smiled and walked towards the bench.
“Come on. Let's find that wine.”
He went to the bench at the edge of the field and he settled onto it, long, muscled legs stretched with that languid ease.
Carter sat beside him. He kept a space of perhaps ten inches between them. Isaiah smiled. If he hadn't known better, Carter would have thought there was some wistfulness in those eyes, but he fought the feeling. Why would he be?
“Here we are,” he said, producing a bottle of wine. “I think it's fairly good wine.” He squinted at the label, and Carter had a look too. He recognized the name, which was good. At least it was a Merlot, not just “red”.
“Thanks,” Carter said, as Isaiah produced two plastic drinking glasses. Isaiah chuckled.
“Not exactly stylish, but good.”
“That's perfect.”
Their eyes met, and held. Carter looked into those beautiful brown eyes and his heart thudded.
Isaiah smiled. He filled the glass and passed it back.
“Cheers.”
“Cheers,” Carter echoed.
They drank.
Isaiah gave a sigh and looked up at the sky.
“This is good,” he said softly.
“It is,” Carter agreed.
“You know,” Isaiah said after a while, “I don't meet people like you often.”
“No?” Carter's voice was tight and he coughed. “Well, I guess I don't meet people like you either.”
They smiled at each other uncertainly.
After a moment, Isaiah broke the tension. He laughed. “Well, it's true! The guys I know...they have heads that are really good at getting a knock, if you know what I mean.”
Carter tipped his head back, laughing loudly. “I think that's a very fair way to say it.”
“Thanks. I do my best.”
Isaiah sounded genuinely pleased about that. His gaze met Carter's. In that moment, as Carter lowered his hand from taking a drink, and Isaiah reached to fill his glass their hands met.
Carter tensed. The moment of the contact was intense. He felt shy. Nothing like this had ever happened.
Isaiah took his hand and held it, long, strong finger stroking the skin. He clasped it in both of his own, making Carter shiver.
“You know,” Isaiah said again. He was looking away across the field, eyes blank as if he looked somewhere further away. “I have never met someone like you before. I like you. You must know that.”
“I...” Carter cleared his throat. “I do. I...I feel that, too, Isaiah.”
Their eyes met. They leaned closer. Without thinking about it, Carter leaned in and Isaiah moved to meet him. They kissed.
Carter felt his whole body tense, then unfold, each part of it flaming with a strange tingle as Isaiah's lips moved gently on his own. His mouth was hard and firm, the lip surprisingly mobile as he nipped at Carter's lips, gently tasting him. Carter sighed and leaned forward as the kiss deepened, his tongue gently exploring the entrance of his mouth.
Isaiah leaned in closer and Carter parted his lips, allowing the kiss to deepen. His heart was pounding and his whole body was tense with longing.
They sat together like that for a long moment, Isaiah's hand on Carter's shoulder, their bodies close, legs touching beside each other on the bench. Then, after perhaps a minute, Isaiah leaned back, eyes still closed.
He sighed. “Carter,” he said. His voice was deep and roughened and the sound ached inside Carter, making him shiver with wonder.
“Yes?”
“You know I'm a football player, right?”
“Right,” Carter said slowly, feeling as if his mind had retired to some distant place as the world around retreated.
“I can't just...I mean, I...Oh, shit,” Isaiah said, voice raw. “I dunno how to say this. I'll just try.”
He turned and reached out to Carter, taking both his hands in his own. The touch was so gentle, the look in his eyes so wounded, where they met Carter's own eyes, that Carter swallowed hard. “Yes?”
“I'm a football player. I have...problems. Like dumb team-mates. Coaches. Ignorant fans.” He shook his head, face darkened. “I can't just...I mean...you know.”
“I know,” Carter sighed gently. “You can't just come out.”
“Yes.” Isaiah sighed, his shoulders lowering as he did so, relief running through him.
“I know.”
Carter bit his lip. He looked across the field, looking at the distant lights, the tall shadow of trees against an inky sky. It was cold. He sighed. He didn't know what he had expected Isaiah to say. All he knew was that this was the most surprising conversation he had ever had. Isaiah is attracted to him? And he wished he could come out?
He shook his head. That one sentence, on its own, was actually amazing.
“Isaiah,” he said gently. “I know you can't come out. But the fact that you want to...that you want to, because of me, I...” He shook his head, feeling lost for words.
Isaiah took his hands and they sat together for a while.
Carter shivered, feeling the cold air move over the field, rustling in the waterproo
f fabric of his jacket.
“Isaiah?”
“Carter.”
Without thinking about it, they moved towards each other. Their arms moved to a hug and they kissed.
8
The kiss was long and deep and, when they broke it, both Carter and Isaiah were breathing heavily.
Carter felt as if his whole body was tingling with nerves. Every part of him was sensitive, from the chest, pressed against Isaiah's warm muscles, to his toes, where they lay beside Isaiah's. He was aching with longing.
“Carter.”
When he heard his name in Isaiah's lips, his longing caught fire. He felt himself shiver.
“Isaiah.”
They sat there for a moment, then Carter felt a hand stroke his arm. He sighed.
“I...”
Isaiah smiled. Carter heard it in his voice. “It's a little cold out here, isn't it?” he said gently.
Carter swallowed. His groin twitched. Did Isaiah mean...
“I guess it is,” he said carefully.
Isaiah turned to face him. He was smiling. “Should we go somewhere else?”
Carter cleared his throat. “Maybe?”
Isaiah laughed.
“Let's go over there.”
He pointed in the direction of the stands. The corridor leading to the locker-rooms appeared to be open. Carter frowned at Isaiah. He smiled.
“I asked the guard if I could look around,” he explained cheerfully. “He said yes.”
“Okay...” Carter felt his heart thud slowly inside him. He looked at Isaiah, who had a gleam in his eye. He looked naughty and happy at once, and Carter smiled.
“Well, then?”
“Okay.”
They stood. Carter tensed as Isaiah took his hand. The contact between them was so intense it was making him ache. He wanted him so badly, wanted things he could only hesitantly visualize, yet he knew he wanted them. More than ever.
He walked a little behind Isaiah as they headed inside. They walked down the hallway, which was dark, then turned right. They were in the locker-room.
“Okay?” Isaiah asked.
“Okay.”
They were both speaking in hushed tones, though there was no reason to; the building was clearly empty, the guard around the front of the building and not likely to appear. Even so, the tension kept Carter's voice low, the longing making him ache.
Eligible Receiver: A First Time Gay Romance (Bareback University) Page 4