by Carol Lynne
“Chet? Are you okay?” Bobby asked, setting down a large duffle bag.
“Yeah. Of course.” Chet tried to play off his inability to reconcile his sudden bout of lust with the first excuse he could come up with. “I was sleeping when you called. Guess I’m still pretty fuzzy.”
“Sorry about that.” Bobby hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans, drawing Chet’s attention to his cock, and looked around the living room. “Nice house.”
“Thanks.” Turning away from the tempting outline trapped behind Bobby’s zipper, Chet gestured towards the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Bobby grinned. “I don’t suppose you’d let me have a beer?”
“You suppose right,” Chet grumbled. “Contributing to the delinquency…”
“I just turned twenty-two,” Bobby said, cutting Chet off.
“Oh, right.” Chet knew he could use conditioning as an excuse, but he wasn’t naïve enough to believe his players didn’t drink on occasion. “Just one.”
Bobby followed Chet into the kitchen. “Mom said to tell you hi.”
“How’s she doing?” Chet asked, retrieving two cans of beer from the fridge. Bobby’s mention of his mom helped to cool his thoughts of lust. Chet watched Bobby open his beer and take a big drink. The moment of distraction gave him a chance to look his fill. Where was the boy he’d gone fishing with? Admittedly, Chet had worried for years that his feelings for Bobby had more to do with his respect for the superstar who was more down to earth than any athlete he’d ever come into contact with. But watching Bobby drink the beer, Chet realised it was so much more. He was emotionally bonded to Bobby like he’d never been with another. What was it that Bobby possessed that no other man had ever come close to? Bobby swallowed and picked the conversation back up, bringing Chet out of his musings.
“Good, real good. I know it sounds bad, but I think she’s happier than she’s been in years. She joined some social group in Pine Bluff. I’m still not sure what all they do, but she leaves the house once a week wearing a stupid-looking red hat.” Bobby shook his head and chuckled. “Dumbest damn hat I’ve ever seen, but I don’t have the heart to tell her.”
Chet tried to keep his eyes from roaming Bobby’s body while he spoke, but failed miserably. Although Bobby looked older, his body appeared the same if not smaller than the last time Chet had seen him. Held him. “Have you been keeping up with your conditioning regime?”
Bobby stared at the top of the can in his hand and slowly lifted it to his mouth without answering. Chet watched the muscles in Bobby’s throat as he gulped the beer. It was obvious he was putting off an answer. “Bobby?”
Setting the empty can on the kitchen island, Bobby shook his head. “I’ve slacked off a bit this summer.”
“Why would you do something like that? We both know it’s gonna be hell getting those muscles built back up to where they need to be.” Chet wondered if Bobby’s father’s death had affected him more than he’d let on.
“I know,” Bobby mumbled. “But Coach Nelson told me NCIU has one of the best trainers around.”
“True, but you’ve only got a week before practice starts.” Something didn’t feel right. “This isn’t like you. Have you changed that much from the kid who used to eat, drink and breathe football?”
“I’ll be ready! I’ve had a shitty year. Give me a fucking break, would ya?”
Bobby headed for the living room, but before he could get far, Chet reached out and grabbed the young man’s forearm, pulling him up short. “You’re right. I’m sorry about your dad. I lost mine two years ago and it still hurts every damn day. But you can’t let that pain stand in the way of your future.”
Bobby reached up and covered Chet’s hand that still rested on his arm. “I could’ve really used your support last year,” he whispered. “A lot happened, and I didn’t have anyone to talk to.”
“You were at Arizona for three years. Don’t tell me you didn’t make a single friend in all that time.”
Bobby dropped his hand and pulled away from Chet’s hold. “There were a few guys I kicked around with, but they weren’t the kind of friends you’d open up to.”
Chet hated the sadness in Bobby’s dark brown eyes. “You could’ve called.”
With a snort, Bobby walked over and picked up his duffle. “The phone goes both ways, Chet. You had to have known how much I needed you, but instead of reaching out you sent a hundred dollar bouquet of flowers to a funeral home.” He gestured to the couch. “I’m dead on my feet. Is that my bed for the rest of the night?”
Chet shook his head. Not only had he let a player and friend down, but he’d hurt someone he loved because he was too chicken shit to face him. “Take my room. The guestroom’s full of boxes, so I’ll sleep there.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Bobby protested.
Chet needed time to process his feelings. Shame warred with anger over Bobby’s lack of conditioning. Add in the fact that he still had romantic feelings for Bobby, and Chet’s emotions seemed to be all over the place. “Just take it.”
* * * *
Bobby dropped his bag on the floor at the foot of Chet’s bed and glanced around the room. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he was back in Chet’s Arizona house. The curtains, bedspread and pictures were the same. Only the layout had changed.
A picture on Chet’s dresser caught his attention. He walked over and lifted the eight by ten framed photo and smiled. It was Chet hoisting the shiny bowl trophy over his head, surrounded by his entire team.
Despite his sour mood, Bobby couldn’t help but smile. He’d recorded the bowl game and had watched it close to a hundred times. It wasn’t the game itself he’d been interested in, but the proud and confident coach who had stepped in to fill Coach Nelson’s shoes at the last minute. It had been the highlight of Chet’s career and Bobby hadn’t been there to share it with him.
Setting the picture down, Bobby undressed and sat on the edge of the bed. He methodically unwrapped the elastic bandage from around his left knee and tossed it to the floor. He rubbed the sore and slightly swollen area and wondered again if he was making the right decision. Since injuring his anterior cruciate ligament, or ACL, ten weeks earlier, his recovery hadn’t been what the doctors’ had hoped. Without surgery to repair the partial tear of the ligament that helped stabilise his knee, Bobby would be in for weeks of rehabilitation. However, with surgery, he’d be out for the season for sure. It had been a hard choice, but opting for rehabilitation had seemed the most sensible choice.
After talking it over with his mom, Bobby had decided to continue with physical therapy. If he resorted to surgery, there’d be no way he could play football in his senior year, and getting the full-ride scholarship was imperative to finishing his education.
He lifted his bag onto his lap and searched for the bottle of massage oil. Coming up empty, it dawned on him he’d left it in the truck. “Shit.”
Instead of redressing, Bobby scanned the room, looking for lotion or something. When he didn’t see anything useful, he slid open the top drawer on the bedside table. Just as he’d suspected, he found lube. It took him several seconds to gather the nerve to remove the bottle from the drawer, but once he had his gaze landed on something even more interesting.
Bobby set the lube on the table and reached back into the drawer. He moved aside the flesh-coloured dildo and retrieved the picture. His hands started to shake as he stared at the photograph taken of him on the day of his high school graduation. It was obvious from the well-worn picture that it had been held often. The fact that it had been in the same drawer with the lube and dildo gave him hope.
He squashed the urge to run across the hall and question Chet about the picture, knowing Chet would only deny he still had sexual thoughts about him. “I know your secret,” he whispered to the photograph on the dresser. Coach or not, Chet was still a man, and Bobby had seduced several of them in the previous three years.
After careful
ly replacing the photograph, Bobby picked up the lube and went to work massaging his knee. He needed to come up with a plan of action, and what better place to do it than Chet’s bed.
Chapter Three
Chet glanced at the closed bedroom door. It was nearing three o’clock in the afternoon and Bobby had yet to emerge. He hated to wake him. It was obvious the man needed his sleep, but they were going to be late. Lifting his hand, Chet rapped his knuckles against the door. “Bobby?”
When he received no answer, he opened the door. Before he could call the name again, his gaze landed on a nude body tangled in the sheets, his sheets. Chet bit his bottom lip. Knowing it was wrong, he tried to step back and shut the door, but his feet wouldn’t budge.
Chet’s eyebrows drew together when he figured out what was so different. Bobby hadn’t merely slacked off on his training, he was downright thin. His worry overrode everything else. He tossed the blanket over Bobby’s bare hip, hiding the tempting ass from view before sitting on the bed. “Time to get up,” he said, eyeing the bottle of lube on the table. Had Bobby gone through his drawers? “Bobby!” he said with heat.
With a groan, Bobby rolled over and opened his big brown eyes. Spotting Chet beside him, he smiled. “Morning.”
“Afternoon,” Chet corrected. He reached out and grabbed the lube. “Did you go through my things?” Knowing exactly what had been in the drawer with the lube, Chet wavered between embarrassment and fury.
“Sorry,” Bobby mumbled. “My legs were cramping after driving so far. I have massage oil, but I left it in my truck. I’ll buy you another bottle.”
“That’s not the point and you know it.” Chet gestured towards the door. “Don’t read anything into what you found in there.”
Bobby rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up. “I meant no harm, I swear it. I was just too tired to go back out to the truck.”
With his lips puffy from sleep, Bobby was a temptation hard to resist. Chet’s anger over the invasion of privacy melted away. “I need you to jump in the shower. We’ve been invited to a barbecue at Demitri Demakis’ house. I thought it’d be a good opportunity for you to meet your potential roommate.”
“I’m up for meeting people, but I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and I’d still like to move into BK House.” Chet opened his mouth to protest, but Bobby held his hand up in an effort to silence him. “I won’t go blabbing it around campus. The press didn’t give a shit where I lived for three years. Why do you think they’d care now?”
“Because of what BK is and who you are,” Chet answered. He reached out and wrapped his hand around Bobby’s ankle. “I promise you, I have your best interests at heart.”
“I know.”
“The guy I want you to meet today is a graduate student by the name of Dane Jefferson. He’s gay and he owns his own house. According to Demitri, Dane probably wouldn’t expect much in rent money.” Even as he said the words, Chet could tell they weren’t doing anything to change Bobby’s mind. “Why’re you so adamant about living in BK?”
Bobby readjusted the blankets around his waist. “I read this article in a magazine. It said BK House was a great place for young gay men to get the support they need.” Bobby pressed his palm to his bare chest. “I want that. I wanna know what it feels like to be in an environment where I can talk to people and not be afraid I might out myself. I know you want me locked away where the press won’t find out I like a man’s dick up my ass, but there’s more to me than football. Why can’t you understand that?”
Chet swallowed around the lump in his throat. If he were honest with himself, he knew Bobby was right. He was more than just a football player, but it was this that kept him at arm’s length. Images of Bobby on a bed with another man’s cock buried in his ass didn’t sit well either. Chet had been stupid to think Bobby would reach the age of twenty-two a virgin. Still…
Chet rose and walked towards the door. “I don’t want to hear about all the boys you’ve let fuck you,” he grumbled over his shoulder.
“Not boys, men.”
Chet stopped and turned around.
“Men I thought were like you, but it turned out they were nothing like you. They didn’t care about me or have my best interests at heart. All they wanted was to fuck Bobby Ray Sikes. They didn’t give a shit about Bobby.” Bobby bit his bottom lip and scooted to the edge of the bed. “They weren’t you and they should’ve been.”
Chet started to reach for Bobby but shoved his hands in his pockets instead. “Hop in the shower. We need to be out of here in thirty minutes.”
* * * *
With his knee still bothering him after the long drive, Bobby had opted to rewrap it and wear jeans. As he rode in the passenger seat of Chet’s SUV, he began to regret his decision. “I thought it was supposed to be cooler up here.”
“Normally it is, but Mother Nature doesn’t always follow the rules.” Chet pulled in front of a large house. A small sign by the front step read BK House. “What’re we doing here? I thought we were late to the party thing?”
“I called Aaron, Demitri’s partner, and told him we’d be a little late. I thought you should get a look at BK before you blow Dane off this afternoon.”
“I wouldn’t blow him off anyway. I may be stubborn, but I’m not an asshole,” he mumbled, opening his door.
Chet joined Bobby on the sidewalk leading to the house. “I know you wouldn’t. I just meant you should make an informed decision.”
Although Chet hadn’t mentioned their earlier conversation, Bobby could tell it was still on his mind. It was a good thing, in his opinion. He may not have meant to bring up his past lovers, but he hadn’t missed the expression of jealousy on Chet’s face when he had. Good. How many nights had he sat up wondering if Chet was sleeping beside some guy?
“Charlie and Jack are already at Demitri’s, but Locky, the new guy, agreed to come back to give you a tour.” Chet reached out and rang the doorbell.
“Cool.”
Chet glanced down. “Are you limping?”
Fuck. Bobby shrugged. “You drive from Arkansas to Idaho and see if you aren’t sore.”
“No thanks. Any more than a couple hours and I go into some kinda trance.” He grinned. “I still can’t believe you didn’t get a hotel room along the way.” Chet’s hand went to the small of Bobby Ray’s back and he almost melted right there on the stoop.
Before Bobby Ray could fully enjoy the moment, the front door opened. Damn. “Hello,” he said automatically.
The handsome man smiled and held out his hand. “You must be Bobby Ray. Locky Regent.”
“Nice to meet you,” Bobby replied, shaking Locky’s hand.
Locky nodded in Chet’s direction. “Good to see you again.”
“You, too,” Chet said.
Locky ushered them into the house and closed the door. “We finally got the a/c fixed, but I think it’s going to take a while for the house to cool down to where it should be.” Locky gestured towards the large open room. “Obviously, this is the living room,” he said, beginning the tour.
Bobby followed Locky around the house while Chet watched the end of the baseball game he’d started at home. “How many guys live here?”
“We have twenty-two, including you. There were a lot of freshmen requesting placement at BK this year, but we just don’t have the room.”
“You mean there’s a waiting list or something?” Bobby had waited until the last possible moment to make the call to Coach Nelson about transferring. He hated the thought that he’d jumped to the front of the list because of who he was.
Locky chuckled. “Yep, but Demitri’s come up with a solution.” He led Bobby into a huge room. “This is our newest addition. It’s a place for residents and non-residents to gather and hang out.”
Bobby liked that idea. “So you don’t have to live here to come by?”
“Right. Demitri’s been talking to one of BK’s biggest supporters, Tony Bianchi, about building another house on the other side o
f campus, but until then, he wanted a refuge for students to get away to if they needed.”
Bobby nodded. “I imagine that magazine article brought a lot of attention to BK. I know this place is one of the reasons I wanted to transfer.” He looked around the room. There were several groupings of over-stuffed furniture, a huge television mounted on the wall and a small kitchenette in the far corner. “Looks nice.”
“We think so.” Locky gestured to a door. “That’s the study room. There are desks and computers in there in case you need the quiet. All courtesy of Tony Bianchi.”
BK House was everything Bobby had hoped for and more. Unfortunately, the guilt started to set in as they wound up the tour. Before they arrived back in the living room, Bobby stopped walking and cleared his throat. “If I do what Coach Sloan wants and move in with this Dane guy, would I still be able to come here if I wanted?”
“Absolutely.”
“And you’ll be able to move one of those incoming freshmen up on the list?”
“Yep.” Locky put a hand on Bobby’s shoulder. “Charlie explained your situation to me, and I think we can work around it. I can’t promise the press won’t find out you’re coming here on occasion, but I’ll do my best to make sure the residents understand the importance of discretion.”
“Thanks.” Although he still needed to meet Dane, Bobby felt much better about his options. Knowing he could enjoy the camaraderie BK had to offer was the most important thing. It also might help get him back in Chet’s good graces. “Can I let you know this evening?”
Locky smiled. “Sure. That sounds fair.”
* * * *
Chet pulled away from BK and back onto the street. “So what’d you think?”