Eligible Receiver: A First Time Gay Romance (Bareback University)

by Angel Lovecox

  I wish the season was over.

  He sighed and put his head down. He had three days before the last exams, two on successive days and then one with a day before. He sighed. The studying had to get done.

  Six days later, the last exam arrived. It was fairly-straightforward, tense but fair. He left feeling lightheaded.

  The tests were over. The term was, for him, finished. He’d survived.

  At home that evening, he lay on the bed. He was too weak to go out, too drained after the weeks of intensive studying. Besides, everyone else was either still working or already gone.

  I should go somewhere. Distract myself.

  He sighed. The exams were over, it was true. That was a good feeling. But now he had time to think.

  Time to remember.

  He sighed. He looked at his watch.

  Duane was somewhere frantically studying in the house, and Bradford had left already. That left him and Grant Farrell, the chemistry grad student, sharing the house together. Farrell was out, he had left a note on the kitchen table saying so.

  “I could watch the news,” Carter thought, grinning in a desultory way. On the TV downstairs. By himself. Without Duane shouting at them to change the channel back, because news was depressing.

  He chuckled. That would be a joy.

  Televised news without interruptions was a small treat, but after so long it felt like a real one. He headed downstairs.

  Fires breaking out in the city. Train strikes. Riots.

  Whether the news was depressing or not—and he had to admit it often was—he appreciated having time to watch it. With some coffee and the house quiet it was even nicer. He settled into it and was feeling quite peaceful when the sports section came on.

  He would have turned it off then, but he didn't manage to avoid it. The sight of Isaiah, in full color, rushing across the grass at the main stadium. He sighed.

  I wonder how he is?

  He shook his head. He should forget. However he was, he didn't want to see him, and that was that.

  He switched off the television, finding it suddenly jarred on his nerves.

  Is that true? He sighed. For all that he had convinced himself, a small voice still queried it. Is it true Isaiah didn't want to see him?

  He wasn't sure. Isaiah hadn't said that. Not in so many words.

  Carli said that.

  He had no reason to believe Carli was lying: of course he jeopardized Isaiah's career. That had been made clear in no uncertain terms.

  But does that mean he hates me?

  There was one way to find out. Ever since yesterday, and since the announcement on television, mentioning the important final game—the deciding one—he had thought of it. If he went to the game, he might see Isaiah.

  Come on, Carter! Why would he even want to see you?

  He sighed. It was unlikely, he knew. Even if he saw Isaiah, why would Isaiah want to see him? It would be better to avoid him.

  But the question still ached inside him. Like a tooth that was loose, but not quite ready to fall out, he probed it. Did Isaiah really hate him? Or was it his fault the barrier went up?

  “You know, this is silly,” he told himself.

  It was silly. It was foolish. It would probably only make him hurt worse...but it was also knowledge and trying to find out the truth.

  If I just make assumptions, I'm not much of a student, am I?

  He chuckled. Prof. Wilding would have been mad at him about making assumptions of anything. It was one of his favorite things: never make assumptions.

  So why was Carter doing that in his own life?

  He sighed. There was only one way to find out. And that was to try. He called Mike.

  “Hey,”

  “Brother!” Mike sounded happy.

  “Hi, Mike. How are you? I'm sorry I was so terse earlier. You're right...it's been a while.”

  “It has!” Mike was enthusiastic. “I was worried. I knew you were studying, or I would have come to check on you. It's odd not to hear from you at least once in a week or so...” he trailed off. “How are you?”

  “I'm okay,” Carter asserted

  Mike knew how upset he'd been. They never talked about it: Mike respected privacy. But even so, he knew that his brother knew, which was partly why he avoided him. Now, though, he had a reason to call. A good one. And it wasn't because he was unhappy.

  “That's good?” he made it a question.

  “Yes. Mike?”

  “Uh huh?”

  “I just saw something about the game on the news. I was thinking...”

  “Uh huh?” Mike sounded happy.

  “I was wondering if...” Carter cleared his throat.

  “If we can go?”

  “Yes!” Carter was relieved. He hated asking for things. The fact that Mike had guessed what he wanted made things so much easier.

  “Well,” Mike was grinning, it was plain to hear. “I wanted to ask the same thing. You see...”

  “You wanted to ask me about the game?” Carter interrupted happily. Mike huffed a laugh.

  “Yes. I did. You see, I have tickets.”

  “What?” Carter shrilled. The biggest match of the season? Mike had tickets? How? Where had he found tickets? At such short notice?

  Mike chuckled. “Well, I had some success with a client. Remember the shoulder of doom?” he chuckled. “He gave them to me.”

  “Mike!” Carter didn't know what to say. He was excited. This was happening! He was pleased.

  “Well, then,” Mike grinned. “See you in a few days.”

  12

  The week wore on. As it did, Carter found himself both excited and nervous. Why was he doing this? What good could he gain by doing this to himself? Putting himself through this pain?

  All the same, for all his worrying, he found he was becoming more and more excited about it. How could he be so negative? This was going to be wonderful. Wasn't it? He spent half his days in dread and half in excitement.

  As the day drew closer, he found he was getting more excited and more nervous. It would be the first time in weeks he saw the man who had come to mean so much to him. What would he think? What would he do?

  Be cool, Carter told himself firmly.

  The day arrived.

  Deciding what to wear was hard. In the end, he chose a dark navy pair of jeans and a pinstriped shirt, as he usually wore, only this shirt was a beige color, almost ocher yellow, which made his green-hazel eyes shine. He knew it suited him, and, much as he felt silly for choosing so carefully, he also knew he couldn't have done any differently if he tried.

  I want to look good.

  He arranged his hair carefully in front of the mirror, trying a side-parting that one of his friends had once said looked good on him. He assessed the results in the mirror.

  A young man, tall and lean, with brown hair soft and wavy looked out at him. The ocher shirt was a contrast to his pale eyes and he had to admit that he did look quite striking.

  He and Mike met with an hour to spare and went for dinner at the restaurant they always chose when they went out, a quiet bistro with relaxed, easygoing proprietors.

  “So, how's it going?” Mike asked as they sat down.

  “Okay,” Carter said carefully. He wanted to ask Mike about Isaiah, whether or not he'd seen him, but at the same time that was absolutely the last thing he wanted to do and absolutely the last news he wanted to hear. He decided to ask him something else. “How is Mattie's shoulder?”

  Mike grinned. “Shoulder of doom? He's fine.”

  They both laughed. Mike always had something to say and it was nice hearing about his work; he did respect patient confidentiality, and he would never actually let any important stuff out, but his funny anecdotes were still something to be treasured.

  They had a good supper, but Carter found it difficult to eat; his heart was thudding and he felt nervous.

  What will he think? What will he do?

  He sighed. He had only an hour or so before he k
new what would happen.

  “Here we are,”

  Mike's usual phrase soothed the tumult of anxiety in Carter's soul. He looked around, noting with some panic that they were in the same parking lot as they had been those weeks ago when he had attended the last match. When I met Isaiah.

  The sight of the familiar place when so much had happened was painful. Carter felt like he couldn't go through with it. But then, he thought, if he didn't he would still be as ignorant. Still making assumptions.

  Mike got out. Carter followed.

  “Not so cold tonight, luckily.”

  Carter nodded. The wind was still, the air cool but not bitingly-so. It was a pleasant evening. The wind would also not interfere with the game, which was good.

  He followed Mike up the steps.

  Their seat, when they entered, turned out to be low down. They had a fabulous view over the field. Carter swallowed hard. This was one of the handful of games he had attended in his life. He could remember the last one. Each detail of Isaiah. He sighed.

  “Noisy, yes?” Mike grinned, creasing his face in a picture of auditory agony as the crowds cheered.

  “I guess.” Carter usually hated the noise, but he felt almost empty, as if the shouts and yells were inside him, filling up the empty space where, lately, his heart had been.

  I feel so empty.

  Ever since that night he had felt it. It was only now, being in a place where he had so lately been, seeing how different it was, that he noticed. He was different. Where he had been so content, so relaxed, he was tense and unconfident. He felt as if people were judging him, where once he had sat in comfort, enjoying the game from his own perspective.

  It was strange. Was it just feeling judged that had done this? Or was it the betrayal he felt from Isaiah?

  The shouting rose to painful levels, then stopped. The game was starting.

  Carter leaned forward, watching the first moment of play. Over the month he had improved his knowledge of the game—at first intentionally and now with the announcements and bulletins on the game—and so he found he enjoyed it more.

  From the first moment, though he tried not to, he found himself scanning the team. For Isaiah.

  Where is he?

  He looked around. Isaiah always stood out. His style was distinct.

  But he couldn't see him. It took time for him to stand out. He spotted him at last, at the back of the team.

  His stance had changed. Where once he ran proud and poised, he stooped. He ran less smoothly. He seemed not to pay attention.

  Carter shook his head. Isaiah had changed too.

  Was it..? Had he been sad too?

  He shook his head. Maybe his back was bad. It could be a lot of things. It didn't have to be...the same reason why he himself was miserable.

  He watched the game. The team was not as good as they had been. They had lost the close-knit structure of before, each player seeming hesitant. The spark, he realized, had been Isaiah.

  As he watched, he realized that Isaiah wasn't really participating. He was going through the motions, doing what he must, but his heart wasn't in it.

  The other team was good, but it didn't account for how badly their own team was faring. They were letting obvious things through, and by the time the first quarter passed, the opposition had scored two goals ahead of them.

  “What is happening?” asked a fan in a nearby seat.

  Carter and Mike shrugged, clearly both wondering that too.

  When the game continued, the team scored a goal. Carter cheered himself hoarse. Mike shouted too, and if he noticed his little brother's uncharacteristic engrossment he said nothing.

  By the end of the second quarter, the score was forty-five to thirty. Carter bit his lip.

  “What is wrong with them?”

  Mike just shook his head. “Some players are unmotivated.”

  Carter looked sideways at him.

  Mike didn't say anything but Carter wasn't sure if that was because he really didn't have anything to add.

  They sat for a bit and then, when Carter saw Isaiah take off his helmet and scan the crowd, he couldn't stand it.

  Seeing him so changed, so distracted, had moved something. He hadn't realized how Isaiah had felt about him. Hadn't realized that he missed him. That he would miss him.

  He shook his head.

  “I'm going down.”

  Without waiting to see how Mike responded, Carter walked down the steps.

  It was hard to skirt his way past groups in the crowd who had also risen, either walking down to the side or heading for a drink or something to eat, but he managed it. He reached the sidelines.

  Standing here, looking around, he suddenly felt silly. The game would restart soon, and what was he doing down here alone? He looked up. He should go back. What had he thought? He couldn't even see Isaiah, who must be elsewhere. He should never have come here.

  “Carter!”

  Carter turned around. It was Isaiah. He had an enormous grin. He looked like he had seen something wonderful.

  “Isaiah!” Carter grinned back. Isaiah came straight up to him and shook his hand, grinning and laughing.

  “It's great to see you, man! It's been too long.”

  Carter, standing there, looking into those dark brown eyes, thought he might float away.

  13

  “I am so pleased to see you,” Isaiah said, chuckling. “Where have you been?”

  Carter blinked at him. “Where have I been?”

  “Yes!” Isaiah said. “I wanted to call you, but when I didn't hear anything, I thought you hated me.” He sighed. Chuckled sadly. “I really did.”

  “Wait.” Carter stared at him, shaking his head in complete awe. “You thought I was mad with you?”

  “Yes!” He looked at Carter, who chuckled disbelievingly. “Well, what would you think?” he asked levelly. “You don't hear from someone for days... you think they don't wanna see you.”

  Carter sighed. “You said you...” he shook his head. “You said you didn't want to see me!”

  “I didn't!” Isaiah shook his head. They had walked a little away, so that they stood out of earshot of the players, but were still on the sidelines. Isaiah lowered his voice a little, then continued. “I said I wanted to see you, Carter. You knew that.”

  The crowd seemed oddly quiet here, where he and Isaiah stood on the outskirts. He listened to it and didn't really hear. It all blended into the thoughts that ran around his own head, suddenly awestruck with the realization that Isaiah wouldn't lie.

  Carter bit his lip. “I didn't know,” he said softly. “I thought I would harm your career. That you would rather I left.”

  Isaiah blinked at him. “You're nuts!” he said blandly. “How could you think that?”

  Carter laughed. He couldn't believe what he'd heard. Was Isaiah really here, telling him he wanted him? That he had never actually wanted him to go? He shook his head.

  “I really...I thought you hated me,” he said quietly. “And now that I know different, I know how wrong I was. Isaiah, I want you. I want to be...whatever we are,” he smiled. “I don't care if we can't go out together. I still want you. Secret or not.”

  Isaiah blinked at him. Then he laughed loudly.

  Carter blinked. Had he just laughed? Why? What was going on?

  “Carter!” Isaiah said, still smiling, laugh still shuddering his voice. “I cannot quite believe you said that. It's the best news.”

  “It is?” Carter frowned at him. “You mean...you want to be with me?”

  “I do,” Isaiah said firmly. “I do.”

  He kissed him.

  Carter felt his whole body flare. Then another flare went through him. The audience could see them! They were on the edge of the stadium, just out of sight...

  Then they weren't.

  Isaiah took a step to the side and back and they were in full view. Of the cameras. Of the press. Of everyone.

  The crowd cheered. Confused, terrified, Carter opened h
is eyes.

  Isaiah was grinning at him.

  “Isaiah. You...we...”

  “Just kissed in front of tens of thousands of people. That's the camera,” he added as he pointed to the device that picked up footage for the vast screen displaying the game to the audience.

  “Isaiah. You. I...” Carter stared.

  Isaiah laughed. “We are official.”

  14

  Carter could not believe it. It was almost time for the game to resume, and Isaiah had just kissed him in front of the stadium. Everyone in the audience saw them.

  He looked up at him, dazed.

  Isaiah was smiling.

  “It was time,” he said slowly. “When you...when you left, I thought a lot. I realized that I wasn't being me. The team-mates...if they were my friends, they would love me for who I am. Not for pretense. And if they didn't love me, then, hell! Why did I care?”

  Carter stared at him. “But...” he trailed off. It wasn't just the team. It was the coach. The fans. The...

  “Carli.”

  “What?”

  “Carli. You were with her, in the news. I saw you...” he trailed off again. Isaiah was shocked.

  “You thought that...That Carli..?” he trailed off, disbelieving. “What?”

  Carter couldn't help smiling. He just looked so amazed.

  “I thought that you were dating her.”

  “No!” Isaiah was staring, then he grinned. “I can't believe it! I've been trying to avoid Carli for years!”

  “Years?”

  “Yes.” Isaiah inclined his head slowly. “I liked her—I mean, she seemed a nice girl. But whew! She's persistent. You know I...I don't...Carter!” he shook his head at him. “You should know more than anyone why I didn't want a relationship with Carli. However nice she was—and I suspect she isn't really a nice person at all—I don't find women attractive.”

  “Honest?”

  “Well, I mean, I can appreciate the way they look. But I don't, you know...like it.” He blinked. Then he shook his head. “I actually don't believe it. I can't believe you thought that.” He looked, if anything, quite upset.