Author's Note: This is the first chapter of a slow-burn novel that explores deep themes of physical and sexual violence/assault, somewhat graphic violence, drugs (drugging, drug abuse, addiction), as well as political commentary that could be offensive to some. The story is based 100% in fantasy, and doesn't claim to represent the true environment of UNC by any measure.
A week later, I sit in my high school gym with my family around me; a list of schools whose logos stand on a tablecothed plastic table. My hands twiddle with a UNC baseball cap below the table while I stare into the camera in front of me. No smile can mask my nervousness while students fill into the bleachers in front of me. My coach, one of my closest allies throughout my career so far, can’t help but let a smile paint his face, no matter how faint it might be.
Warmth shoots through my veins when I see Carter file into the gym with a light blue polo and badge along with a series of other recruiters. My eyes lock hard onto his sharp face. He flashes a smile at me and nods, showing me that he knows I know what he wants me to do. The crowd calms, and the other two wrestlers that got offers from schools sit at their own tables with some big names mixed into more regional programs. My hands shake, though I feel confidence. I’m not sure I like being recognized like this, so thoroughly in the spotlight but so far from my element.
We go down the line, one of my closest friends committing to Virginia to resounding excitement and a mother ecstatically recording on a phone she can’t keep steady. I smile, my hands sweaty and my mind racing. Then, it’s my turn. Coach places a hand on my shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze– his silent way of telling me that he trusts me, that I’m ready for the next step. I glance over to my parents, my sister and my older brother, unable to hide my smile any longer.
I slowly bring my hands up above the table, heart pounding, pulling the cap up and fastening it on my head. The crowd erupts again, and my eyes lock on my family’s celebration before sliding past them over to Carter, who’s clapping and smiling for me. For a moment, I forget the nerves and tune out the raucous in front of me. The lights, noise, pressure– they seem to fall off of my shoulders and melt into the ground around me. My choice, everything that I have built from here and my future sits on my head.
Carter watches from the back with his arms folded. His smirk still carved into his face like his mouth is being pulled up by string. I wonder if he heard the stiffness in my voice or the unnatural rasp from the nerves that plagued me while a local news reporter bombarded me with questions. Cameras flash more, matching the explosions in my chest while my coach comes and shakes all of our hands. His eyes are soft, he’s proud of me– he always has been. It should ground me, really, but it doesn’t. My mind drifts unrelentingly back to Carter’s voice, to the pressure behind his grip on my body and his lips on my neck, coercing me to say yes and to give him a chance. I did. Now everything seems to move so fast. Too fast.
We’re released soon after, and everyone begins heading home as the final bell rings. I trail behind the others, my coach, and my family. I peel off towards the back hallways with my UNC cap still on my head. I run my fingers along the rough brim, thumb brushing over the stitching. It’s real– Tangible. Permanent.
Carter snipes me from across the gym and meets me in the hallway. “Told you you’d look good in Carolina blue.”
I just nod. I don’t trust my voice yet. He puts his hand on my shoulder.
“Enjoy it,” he says. “You earned this, but don’t get comfortable yet. We’re just getting started. Training starts in June. You’ll get a packet in the mail in the next week or so. It’s prep. Lifting schedule, diet, a good goal for weight. You know the drill. Show up ready.”
I nod, everything suddenly feels tighter. I thought that this moment would be more liberating, but to him it’s just another step. The hallway feels hollow as his footsteps echo away against the distant chatter. I slowly walk back into the crowd, hoping to refill myself, though all it does is make the pressure in my head rise until it starts to throb.
The weeks following my commitment to UNC blur into a soup of training for hours a day, starting to slip a little bit in all of my classes. I tried to balance everything, but my body became exhausted quickly as our lacrosse team began pulling most families in our relatively small suburban town. The news began showing up there, too. We rallied the support of our town, and our town helped us rally to the state championship.
With the halfway point of April now gone, the final test of my high school athletic career stands in my face. Under the stadium lights in the humid spring North Carolina air, I grip my lacrosse stick as I take the field. This was more than just a game, even if I already had my future set. I wanted to prove myself somewhere I still had the control to do so. The whistle blows, establishing the next hour on the game clock as mine. Every cut, check, the way the stick feels in my hands– it feels sharper and more intentional. Until I looked into the stands and pick Carter out of the crowd, almost like I intended to, like I couldn’t avoid his face and it’s all I wanted to see. I get clobbered by a defender, his body rocking me back to reality. I go airborne, and it’s too late to readjust. I hit the ground hard, landing on my stick and bouncing hard against the grass. My helmet comes off and my vision goes grey.
I blink hard, squeezing my eyes shut trying to clear the fog in my head, but everything feels muddy. My ears ring, and the dirt on my lips and my face mixes with sweat. I struggle to push myself up, my body refusing to cooperate. My hands tremble, my arms give out momentarily and I collapse back down to the ground. I hear my coach’s voice from the sideline through the falling chants of the crowd.
I try to focus again, to pull myself together enough to get up. Flashes of the stands and my eyes panning over Carter’s face invade my empty head. The lingering weight of expectation seems crushed just from him being here because of how insignificant I feel around him. I rise to my feet but collapse to my knees just as quickly, digging my stick into the dirt to try to stabilize myself. Gameplay continues around me, my coach still yelling, now at the refs who still refuse to stop gameplay. I keep my eyes locked on the field while I reel from the pain. The other team scores, and through a fuzzy announcement, finally the attention turns back to me and a sharp whistle stops play.
I shake my head, trying to get my eyes to cooperate but frustration takes over. My teammates help me to the bench where I fall back like lead. Each breath gets slower while my heart pounds in my brain. I can’t focus on him, or anything else for that matter.
I shake my head again, this time more violently. I want to keep playing– I need it, I fucking need to keep playing. This is my team and I need them. I need to play. I try to stand but my coach pushes me back down to the bench.
“Cameron,” his voice finally pierces through the fog. “Sit. Breathe. Sip some water. Give it a moment, bud, you just got rocked.”
I hesitate, the urge to push through without regard for my own body only grows stronger. My lungs burn and the warm breeze brushes through my dirty hair. I let the cold metal of the bench support my weight. My hands shake. I can still hear the game going on, but I can’t bear to focus on it and not be out there. I take a sip of water and the coolness opens my dry throat. I need to be there for my team when they need me. I nod at my coach, my eyes locking on his face and he smiles readily.
I stand slowly as Coach beckons me back to the field. The crowd’s noise fades into the background, the wind whistles past my ears as I take the field again. I watch as my teammates push forward through planted feet. I inhale and explode into the game again, my movements urgent and precise in the dewy ground. The game picks up pace, I fall back into it, my body and my mind work together. Everything feels elevated now with a certain tinge that reminds me that my body is still in shock, but this game is my test to finish.
I scan the field and carve through defenders with the ball secure in my stick pocket. Without another thought, my stick wraps around my back and I spin around the crease while the ball flies into the upper right corner of the net. The crowd erupts from my goal, and I feel my energy surge again. “Let’s fucking go!” I yell, teeth showing while I pump my fist. I plant my feet back into the earth and stomp like a predator. I reset, falling back near midfield and waiting for our next move.
We pull away in the fourth quarter after a series of goals, and the pressure from the first half lifts as I watch the final seconds tick off the clock. I collapse to the ground and hug the earth, then remove my helmet and let go of my stick beside me. I look up at my teammates and stand, piling into a human ball of dirt, grit, and of victors. Once again I find myself riding a high only possible because of my insatiable need to compete– to find a group of people who cherish that, too.
Chills run down my spine as I head into the stands, once again wrapped in my family’s arms. The crowd slowly files out. Plenty of parents congratulate me, and I smile warmly while I take in the warm air under the lights. I look back down at the field and watch my friends leave with their families. I told mine I would catch up soon. I know that this is the last time I’d be able to put my feet on this field, but as weird as it may feel, it’s not bad. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and take off my cleats and jersey. The cold metal chills my lower back while I sprawl for a moment to inhale and bask in the freshness of the spring air.
Carter sits beside me. He doesn’t say anything at first, just sits. His presence feels more familiar now, but still something inside me stirs. I turn to him while he gazes out onto the field, his face lit up by the harsh stadium lights, a little half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“I told you, you’d make it through.” His voice is low and steady, exactly the same as it always has been when he knows his words well.
“Why are you here?”
“To see you. Couldn’t pass it up when I heard you’d taken your team back to a championship.”
I savor his words briefly. We’ve been through so much, and he’s fucked so heavily with my mind, even if we’ve only met three– well, four– times now. “It’s a surprise.”
He smiles and looks at me. “It’s a surprise? Not amazing, not evil?”
“I just–” I pause. “I wasn’t expecting it is all." My sweaty chest glistens under the field lights.
Carter shrugs, his eyes returning to the empty field. I can tell he’s thinking. “I couldn’t not. You’ve always been about more than just the game, and I needed to see it for myself. See you… in a different lens, finishing it.”
I’m not sure how to respond. He’s good at confusing me with statements that are so direct. There’s just something about them when they fall from his lips. I glance over at him and then back to the field.
“Thanks for being here,” I finally muster. The simplicity of my words feel like a release. He adjusts his neck slowly, tilting his head in slow circles, then he nods.
“You earned it. All of it.”
“So... What now?” I ask. The question slips before I can stop myself.
“What do you mean, silly?” He looks at me for a moment. “You start training for summer. June’s five weeks away. You’ll see me again in seven. This is your time, bro. Your time to lock in and keep that drive.”
I laugh quietly, a bit awkwardly if anything. “Yeah, but I mean– right now.”
Carter gives me a sidelong glance. “Right now? You breathe. You take it in, enjoy it.” He leans back, letting his arm extend across the bleachers, his hand finding his way behind my back, not touching me, though. “Take it all in, Cameron. This is the last time this moment’s truly yours, you know? I was there not too long ago. Once that door opens to the next chapter, you can’t step back through it.”
I let his words sink in. I nod slowly and rhythmically. My mind drifts briefly to what the future would look like. Carter’s already got it mapped out for me. All I need to do is lock in. But not yet.
“You’re gonna do good.”
For the first time since I’ve met him, I fully believe him. He’s let down the hardness that he tried to coach me with when we first met. I like this side of him where his support feels like he’s not completely just beating me down to reshape me.
I sit up slightly. “Carter.”
“'Sup?”
“Why do you push so hard? Why do you care so much about what I do?”
He doesn’t respond immediately. He just stares ahead. He shifts his weight after a moment, leaning closer into me as he begins to tap lightly on the metal dampened with dew from the humid evening air.
“Because it’s not just about you. It’s what you’re capable of. That’s why I was so damn hard on you. You didn’t see it in yourself, and yet now in this game it felt like you did. I hate when it feels like potential goes to waste. I’m not letting that happen. You need to see it. You’re getting there. It’s the same way I was four years ago.”
Silence wraps around us again, but it feels okay now.
“Yeah.” My voice steadies. “I think I see it.”
“You don’t, and that’s fine. You’ll get there.” Carter doesn’t acknowledge me otherwise. His face stays flat and he retracts his arm slightly like we’ve crossed an unspoken line. There’s no turning back from this moment.
Sweat rolls off of my muscular chest and down my abs. I look over at Carter incessantly. Carter shifts, bringing his knees up and resting his arms on them, his eyes grow distant and his lips shift slightly into a frown. He looks down at me, his lips part. Then, he leans in and his lips lock with mine.
My mind scrambles, caught between confusion and something deeper that I can’t quite name. His kiss is invasive. I gasp and my chest rises, and after my body unfreezes from the initial shock, I push him away.
Carter stumbles slightly, his eyes soft but confused. He looks at me with his lips still parted, but there’s something more urgent– a flicker of apology, maybe, or regret.
I close my body off a little, shifting my weight away but not pulling away completely. My skin burns, and I’m not sure whether I want to run or stay.
“Cameron, I’m sorry.” His body language seems insecure. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I–”
I don’t look at him.
“I thought–” he stops himself and exhales.
I swallow hard. “I’ll see you in June, Carter.” His lips take me back to when he had me pinned against the wall while I practically begged him to let me go, the way he smooshed his face against my neck. I tried not to read into it too much, but now I see what it was. I stand and grab my things. My body shakes visibly from the aftermath of what just happened. I don’t turn around– I can’t. The sticky air feels like it’s binding me to him. Nonetheless, the deeper part of me tells me that I need to turn and leave.
My footsteps feel heavier than they should while my heartbeat drowns out the sound of the cicadas in the bushes around the field. I hear Carter take a deep, uneven breath, but I don’t dare look back now. He doesn’t call my name or try to stop me. For a second all of this feels so terminal, but I know I’m going to have to deal with the repercussions of everything that I didn’t say tonight whether I want to or not. When I reach the end of the bleachers, I look back over my shoulder for just a moment. Carter’s still there in the same spot. Now, though, he’s a little smaller, a little more distant, and his shoulders sag like he’s carrying something heavier than I’ve ever seen him carry. I don’t know quite how long I stand there, caught between his motionless form staring at me and the knot in my own chest.
I rush back to my car and struggle to open the door, my hands are shaking too much. The night drags on slowly, and I drive down roads my parents drove on before I could even speak. I pull into my driveway but I don’t go inside. I sit for awhile, unsure of what to do next as I try to figure out how I’m gonna deal with him for the next year of my college life, and how badly it might fuck with my head. My phone vibrates and the screen illuminates. It’s a message from Carter.
You okay?
I freeze, staring at my screen. My chest tightens again. He sends another message.
Can I come over?
I sigh and allow my screen to go dark. I begrudgingly pull myself from my car seat. I gather my things and drag myself inside where I head upstairs immediately and collapse into bed. I eventually walk into the bathroom and rinse the dirt off of my body, but I still feel grimy, heavy. I look at his messages again before I put my phone down on my nightstand. It would be unfair for me to not answer, but I also cannot fathom how he might respond.
No
The response makes me feel sick. I place my phone face down on my nightstand and lay my head against my pillow and face the wall. I close my eyes but I can’t sleep.
The hours bleed into each other and I frustrate myself even more with my restlessness. My room is dark, save the faint glow of the streetlamp filtering in through the slits in my blinds. I listen to the crickets and occasional car, but the sounds of soft purring engines get fewer and fewer while the last stragglers make their ways home and into bed. I keep seeing Carter’s face. Not just the one from tonight– all of them. The one when he was testing me in the locker room, how dark his eyes were when he had me pinned against the wall in the gym, or the smile on his face when I committed to UNC. The way he looked at me all those times, and how for some crazy reason my mind runs wild with the fact that I am going to spend a year getting to know this man after he got under my skin. Maybe I like him there.
I sit up suddenly. I must have fallen asleep for a moment. Sweat clings to my back and I look at my phone, not sure where the nightmare began and where last night ended. I look out the window at the sun beginning to bruise the sky from below the horizon. I spring up from my bed and drink horribly lukewarm water out of the faucet in my bathroom. I grip the sides of the counter hard and I stare at myself. My knuckles are white, some still crusted with blood from our game. Back in my room, I tug a hoodie over my head, ignoring how hot I still feel. I hesitate and grab my phone. Another message from Carter stacks on top of the other two.
Just let me explain
Please
3:42. He’s just as restless as me. My thumb hovers unsteadily over the screen, but I don’t open it. I lock it and toss it onto my bed, then press the heels of my hands so hard into my face that I start to see stars. A year. I’m going to have to be around him for a year, at least. I open my window and inhale deeply, letting the lighter air brush across my face for long enough to dry my sweat. I sit and lean my head against the wall and watch as the blue morning light feeds slowly into my room. I hop back into bed and finally crash.
I wake up hours later disoriented. My mouth is dry, an uncomfortable reminder of the restless sleep that passed way too quick. I missed my alarm to go on a run this morning. I don’t feel like working out, but I lug myself downstairs to the basement to get some dumbbell time in. I feel pretty satisfied at least by the time I finish my workout. I walk upstairs and empty the dregs of the coffee that were left in the pot from my parents this morning. I finally pick up my phone and look at the messages Carter sent me last night. My chest tightens, but I breathe deep and don’t respond yet. I don’t want him to come looking for me. Maybe it’s best to let it be. I should have left this relationship being what it was. Recruiter and athlete, not a sparring partner or a man who should have been up in my face, or at my lacrosse game just to be there.
The next few weeks suck. I force myself to train. It would have been fine if I didn’t have the impending doom of seeing Carter again in June lingering over me. Every time I look at my training regimen, I think of him. The UNC hat that sits on my nightstand now stares at me evilly. Shit gets easier, sure, but there is really no reason to have this man so deeply fucking with me. I add some muscle, a little bit of fat, too. I feel about as strong as I’ve ever been before. Classes go well, including my AP exams, but the occasional check-in text from Carter sets me back a day or two. He keeps them strictly business. Asking how my regimen feels, and seeing if I have any questions about what summer workouts are going to look like. I feel like an asshole for not replying, but maybe he needs to take the hint a little better on this one.
Before I know it, I’m packing for Chapel Hill. The early June heat clings to my skin as I haul my bags down the driveway with my parents trailing behind me. My dad carries the last of my gear, and my mom uses her sunglasses to hide the fact she and dad are now officially empty nesters for a little while, at least. Carter’s truck is already parked at the curb, engine humming low, windows down. He’s leaning against the door with his arms crossed, sunglasses pushing his light blond hair back. His jaw tightens when he sees me, but his face still holds the mysterious softness that leaves me so intrigued. He’s clean, close shaved like the first time I met him, mustache lined smoothly above his lip.
“Morning,” he smiles. “Carter.” He shakes my dad’s hand and bows his head slightly to my mom as he takes her hand, too. “Thanks for letting me do this.”
My mom smiles with her eyes. “Of course. Thanks for taking care of him.”
I wince a little at that. She thinks everything is very simple, very much business. I wish it were, but it isn’t. Carter nods again.
My dad claps a hand on my back. “You’ve got this,” he says, “we’re proud of you.”
Mom pulls me into a deep hug. “I love you.”
I nod and swallow the lump in my throat, then I toss my backpack at the foot of the passenger seat. Carter helps with my suitcase. I hop into his truck and wave at my parents through the open window. Carter pulls off slowly, one hand on the wheel and the other twirling the hair on his thigh. We sit in silence for the first few minutes, the weight of every single word I refused to say over the last five weeks. The silence isn’t necessarily uncomfortable, but damn it sucks trying to navigate. The hum of the engine does most of the talking while we wind down small, gritty state highways. The sandy dunes slowly begin to turn into soft, rolling hills. The roads begin to stretch out in front of us once we meet the highway. Carter taps the steering wheel with his thumb.
“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” he starts, his voice hardly competing with the wind in my ears. “But you’ve been in my head. Every day.”
I don’t answer. I nod slowly but keep my eyes on the chopped lane lines passing by us.
“I fucked up, Cameron,” he adds. Carter exhales hard, rubbing his jaw. “I’ve been replaying everything over and over, bro. The look on your face– I don’t know– that wasn’t what I wanted. It wasn’t right.”
“What did you want, Carter?”
He grips the wheel tightly, knuckles draining blood. “I wanted to be near you. I thought maybe,” he stops for a moment. “I don’t know. I misread it. Everything. I got too confident thinking that I saw all of myself in you, and damn it felt good in the moment to have that, but that isn’t you. And that's not fair to you, either.”
I breathe through my nose. I can feel his eyes shifting between me and the road. He shifts out of the middle of his lane like he’s not paying as much attention to the hot concrete as he should. “You can’t undo that,” I calculate my words and tone. “That night, it just wasn’t okay.” I can’t say I didn’t want it, because I’m still not sure of that yet.
He’s quiet for a beat, jaw working and lips twitching. “I know. I’ve known that well since–” he pauses, “since I kissed you.”
I nod. “You saw what you wanted. You threw me into a past version of you. And maybe some of that made sense, and a lot of that was right, but a lot of it ain’t that simple.”
Carter doesn’t respond immediately. His fingers drum on the wheel again, then curl back into a fist. “You’re right. Maybe I don’t see what I thought I did.”
That feels like a jab more than admission on his own part. “You pushed me like a coach, which I needed. You tested me like I was still your rival, but then you tried to take me like I was yours to have.”
“Now’s probably not a great time to remind you that you’re gonna be staying with me, is it?” He smiles lightly.
“This isn’t funny.”
His smile dies. “No. Not funny. Just–” he shrugs, eyes back on the road now. “Guess I was hoping we could not feel so stuck.”
“That’s not how this works, Carter.”
“I know, I know,” he chirps. “I know.” He glances over at me. “I don’t regret it. I regret maybe the time and I regret how I misread you, but I don’t regret how close I felt. I don’t regret taking that chance, even if it fucked both of us up.”
“Are you kidding?” I choke, a smile of disbelief crawls over my cheeks. I rub my forehead. “Really, Carter?”
“I’m sorry, Cameron!” He shouts. “I don’t!” He defends his words. “I don’t regret it, Cameron. I don’t, and that’s not gonna change, dammit! And I'm not gonna lie to you and say I do. I'm an honest man.”
Now I feel like the asshole. “You don’t get it.”
“No, you don’t get it!” He pushes back. “I wanted this to be good, and I was excited to get close to you, but I fucked it up, and I’m sorry, but no number of sorries will get me past this rope you’ve suspended me in for each mistake. I don’t know how to fix it, alright? I’m not good at that. I’m not going anywhere, Cameron.”
I ball my hands at my side. I don’t want him here, but I also need to be here. I can’t avoid him, a part of me also doesn’t want to.
Carter relaxes eventually enough to put his hand back on the center console. I sleep curled up with my head against the window, body turned away from him. Carter taps me awake and grabs my suitcase. He walks up to the double doors of a massive home and jostles his key. He pushes the door open with his foot and walks in. I spend a second in the doorway taking in the size of this home. It’s bigger than the mcmansion my parents raised me in by several degrees.
The walls are a soft cream, adorned with greek letters wherever possible. THe polished hardwood floors reflect the warm light from a massive, wrought iron chandelier. Carter disappears up the main staircase which curls up against the wall. He doesn’t look back to see if I’m following him. “Right.” I mutter my thoughts to myself but brush them off while the chilly dry air inside wafts in my face.
I step inside and make my way upstairs. I hear the floorboard creak under Carter’s weight down the hallway. He rounds another corner and I lag behind past door after door after door. I reach the corner, and I hear him moving around in one of the rooms. His footsteps are slow, his movements deliberate. I step into the room, large but not as big as I expected. He leans against the window, his back to me. I put my backpack and duffle bag on a pale blue couch in the corner. The walls are adorned with shelves of trophies, small photographs of him and his friends. The same greek letters as downstairs. I’m curious about so much but I don’t ask anything. His posture is defensive like he doesn’t particularly want me here right now. I move further into the room, though. My fingers brush the dark wood of one of his trophy shelves, trying to focus on decoding who he is. I let my eyes wander around, landing on each picture and dragging across the room like one studies the constellations at night, which ones shine the brightest and which ones are weirdly unremarkable. A group shot of Carter with a bunch of guys– it’s the widest I’ve seen him smile. Another photo, just of him and a young woman I don’t recognize. She’s laughing, he’s lost in her eyes. She looks familiar with him, even deeply so. Shelled back from how he’s been carrying himself up until he kissed me. His cockiness and confidence that crumbled around me seemed nonexistent with her.
I move towards the window. I study his face in the faint reflection. His eyes are narrow in thought. There’s a faint scent of cologne on his neck that I didn’t catch earlier, clean and expensive, mixed with the faintest saltiness from the dried sweat on his body. I wish this were all more exciting, but I sacrificed that privilege. Carter doesn’t move. He stays locked on something I can’t pinpoint. His hands stay in his pockets, but his thumbs rub against the seam of his shorts. I drag my eyes away from him for a moment and walk out the hallway and back downstairs. I take my time exploring the house. I find my way through an earthy kitchen with bright quartz and deep green cabinets. Plants hang by the sink and drink up fake pink light from above. I hear the occasional footstep upstairs, but it’s not from where Carter is. I look around several rooms. One looks like a conference room, another has a blanket messily folded over the arm of a leather couch. I find a seat in the massive living room. Floor to ceiling windows welcome the early afternoon sun.
I slouch down into an uncomfortable chair and scroll on my phone to distract myself. I want to go outside and explore. I want to go downtown and see what there is to do, especially now that it’s quiet since all the students are gone for the summer. I’m suspended in limbo– a weird space that I can’t quite wrap my own mind around. I feel trapped and so free at the same time. The minutes stretch on and my thoughts keep circling, stopping on nothing particular. I step up to the massive windows. The grass outside is green, but trees shade the majority of the yard. Glass tables shimmer outside. It’s a far cry from the sandy roads I’m used to. I stare at the backyard when I hear footsteps approach me. I can tell by their rhythm and slowness that it’s Carter.
“I thought you might have gone out by now,” he smiles gently, but his eyes don’t show it.
“I don’t know anyone here, and I don’t have a car either.”
“My keys stay by the door in the foyer,” he mentions casually.
“I’m not really in the mood to go out, either,” I admit.
“Got it. Think you can figure it out here?”
I nod. He’s not pushing me to stay anymore. He and I both know I am free to walk out that door and he would take me where I want. I chew on the inside of my lip as Carter shifts behind me. I hear him take a breath and slowly blow it out on the back of my neck. Slowly, his arm slips around my waist and he pulls me in until his chest is against my shoulders. I freeze for a second but I don’t pull away this time. His hand rests lightly on my stomach. “I think you’ll do just fine here.”
“I don’t know what I was expecting.”
“I didn’t know either, Cam.” He traces a pattern with his thumb on my shirt. Carter leans in further. He hesitates for a moment before planting a kiss on my neck. I pull away slightly, but not completely. He retracts again, and I feel his heart thump in his chest while it rises sharply and unsteadily. I turn my head just enough to see his sharp jaw in my periphery. He leans in again, securing the other side of my face with his strong hand. He kisses me gently, just a peck on the same spot. His lips part while he pulls away again.
“I don’t–” the words clutch in my throat while I try to choke out something coherent. Too mired in conclusion, frustration, and something else I’m unsure how to read.
He sighs softly, and his eyebrows crease once he finally opens his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t drop his hands. He’s just as confused as I am.
“It’s fine,” I murmur. “I just don’t know what this is.”
He kisses me again on the neck, but this time he doesn’t pull back. He runs his fingers along my jaw and slowly pushes my head into his. He lines my neck with kisses, up and down. He licks gently up my jaw, stopping just before my ear. "Well, can we figure it out?"
I let a quiet breath fall out of me. His lips are warm and soft. Each kiss is slow, chipping away at the walls I thought I needed. His strong hand rubs me gently, then he firmly cups my face. He wraps his other arm tighter around my chest and lifts me out of my chair, closing the space immediately and pushing himself against my back. His warmth seeps into me, and my heart flutters rapidly, but my muscles begin to melt. The pressure of his body against mine, how he holds me so possessively and makes me feel so sexualized but also so deeply protected. His fingers trace the back of my neck and they entangle with my hair for a moment before they find my jaw again. He spins me around and stares at me.
“Cam,” he pulls back, his voice rough like he’s struggling to control himself. “Do you want me to stop?” His thumb wipes across my cheek, then to the corner of my lips. I shake my head, not trusting what I might say otherwise. His breath hitches when I stay locked with him. His lips move to my neck again. He grabs my jaw and forces me to face him. I stare into his deep green eyes. He shuts them and leans in, pushing his lips into mine greedily. His mustache scratches my lip, but I like it.
I feel the urgency in how he kisses me, like he’s been holding back for too long and he couldn’t wait any longer. His hands are everywhere, pulling me closer, pushing under my shirt and slowly exploring me. I don’t pull away, no matter how much my instinct screams at me that I need to pull away. I can’t think straight. There’s no room for doubt, just the rush of his touch and the heat of his body. He pulls back just enough to catch his breath, lingering before he speaks.
“Are you sure?” He asks, so scared of rejection that even he can’t find peace in what he so desperately wants. He recalculates, and his eyes set. No hesitation this time. He grabs my hands and practically drags me upstairs. He leads me down the hallway and back into his room. The door slams shut behind us, and he doesn’t even bother locking it. Carter’s restraint snaps. His tenderness fades as he pushes me against the nearest wall and presses his hand into my jaw. Before I can gasp, he locks his fingers in place while he practically tears my shirt off of my arms. He releases me to pull my shirt over my head, but crushes my body into the wall with his weight. Carter’s palm scorches up my ribs, squeezing my pec hard enough to bruise before replacing it on my neck. I swallow hard as he pushes his mouth against mine again– all teeth and desperation, his tongue claiming me like it’s all he’s been thinking about since he met me, and it probably is. I gasp as he suddenly pulls me from the wall. Carter throws me down onto his bed and climbs over me. He straddles me and slides his shirt over his head to reveal his massive body. They look golden from the sun against the light fuzz covering him. He bends down and kisses down my neck, across my chest and presses his tongue against my nipple. I arch my back and moan loudly while he locks his legs into me like a cowboy on a bull.
Carter growls against my skin, the vibration sending a shockwave of pleasure down my back. He leaves a trail of spit between my abs with his tongue. He pulls the drawstring of my shorts loose with his teeth and impatiently pulls my shorts and underwear down around my thighs with one quick motion. He kisses around my thighs, pushing one hand around my inner thigh which sends shivers down my spine. He looks up at me for a split second to see my reaction when his tongue first traces around my full, smooth balls. I whimper and my body shakes. He grins, dragging his tongue all the way up my semi erect cock until he scoops precum off of my tip with his tongue. He looks up again, my head falls back onto the pillow while I secure myself with my hand on the bed frame. He pushes my dick against his cheek and kisses below my belly button, and down my other leg. He then climbs back over me and kicks my shorts to the floor while he works to remove his own. He supports his weight on his hand next to my head, and I stare at the veins winding up his forearm to his massive shoulder. He smiles as his hard member bounces out of his shorts.
He seems to sense my movements becoming more urgent, how my breathing hikes every time his skin brushes against mine. He kisses me and licks my jaw, pulling away for a moment to stare into my eyes. He sits up, getting to his knees before running his hands up my body. He sits on my chest, the weight of his muscle making it hard to breathe, but I love the feeling of his weight on me. He slaps his dick against my lips, smiling almost like he’s playing a game with it. I push my hands up to his pecs and he grunts softly while I massage them. He leans back slightly, giving me better access to his chest while I smug grin forms on his lips. I take full advantage, my hands roaming over his firm pecs while his thick dick twitches. My thumbs circle his nipples until they harden. Carter tilts his head back and moans deeply while kneading his balls in his hand. I can feel his dick against my cheek, leaving the slight sheen of salty precum just out of reach of my tongue. He chuckles low, and then he’s moving again. His body slides up until his dick rests down the length of my face. He puts his weight on his fists and drives his thick, pink head slowly into my mouth. I massage the head of his dick slowly with my tongue, savoring the sweetness of his precum mixed with the slight saltiness of sweat. He starts slow, only pushing in until his head pops around my lips, then back out. A trail of spit arcs from my lips to the shiny tip of his dick. He lowers himself down to my mouth again, he pushes in further this time past my tongue. I gag slightly while he pushes into the back of my throat. He grabs my head and pulls it up further onto his thick dick. He applies more pressure until my throat gives and he slides all the way in. His pubes press into my face, and his heavy balls lay on my chin while I wrap my arms around his muscular thighs. He puts his weight on my face while he stretches my throat. He begins to work my throat, each thrust accompanied by a low groan of pleasure. I can feel the veins on his shaft pulsing against my tongue as he fucks my mouth more roughly. His hips buck forward aggressively, making me gag hard on his dick. My eyes water as spit begins to coat my lips and drip off of his balls. He seems to enjoy the sight, keeping his eyes locked on mine as he uses my mouth for his pleasure.
His hand grips my hair tightly while the other stabilizes him. He roughly pulls my head further up into his body, now fully pulling his length out of my throat and pressing down until all I can smell is the slight musk of his bush. My body reacts to each thrust, my legs squirm and my dick pulses almost to his rhythm. I keep my hands planted on his back, one finds its way down to cup his muscular ass while it flexes. I can feel his cock swelling, growing more possessive of my throat. Carter’s moans become louder, deeper while sweat beads on his forehead.
Suddenly, he pulls out of my throat, leaving me gasping for air as spit drips down my chin. He presses my legs apart and brings them over his shoulders. His dick glistens as the sun pushes through the window. His massive body, fully revealed, makes me shudder. I can’t keep my hands off of his chest and abs. He positions himself between my legs, leaning down onto me and folding me in half to expose my smooth hole.
“Wait, wait,” I press my hand on his chest.
“What?” Carter slows but he continues running his finger over my hole, greasing it with the spit already on his dick.
“I haven’t done this before.”
“Good,” he grins devilishly.
He lines his thick head up with my hole and presses. I wince as he struggles to open me up, his girth not helping. Carter slides his thumb inside me impatiently, and I gasp hard, tensing up as he works inside me. He presses harder this time, and I can feel my hole beginning to give. He smirks at me. He places both of his hands around my neck, and with a single, powerful thrust he pushes his length all the way inside me. My mouth opens wide, but from the pressure on my neck, only a labored croak escapes my mouth. I squirm, the vein in my forehead pops out, and I press my hands hard against Carter’s chest. The pain of his entry shoots through my body, but he just smiles and lets his tongue hang out of his mouth like a dog.
“Carter!” I sputter, trying to kick him off.
“Fuckkk,” He growls. “You’re tight as fuck, boy.”
He lays his weight down on me and pins me back against the bed. I grunt, trying to leverage the weight of my legs against him for long enough to find any relief. He thrusts slowly, bottoming out each time inside me as I try to get used to the discomfort of him deeply lodged inside me. Each thrust sends a new wave of pain through my body. I squeeze my eyes shut and bare my teeth, my jaw cramping from how hard I clench it.
“Relax, boy. Let me in.”
I try to comply, but the intensity of the moment makes it difficult. He fights against my lean legs to maintain control over me. My body stays tense, every single fiber in my arms and neck visible. He grunts with effort, his muscles straining as he tightens his grip on my neck. I can’t breathe, but Carter doesn’t relent. Carter’s thrusts become more erratic, his breathing ragged and uneven. He’s close, I can feel it with the way his body tenses. He slows for a moment, savoring the feeling of opening me up for the first time. My head feels warm and my vision begins to grey. I tap on his forearm and he loosens his grip just enough for me to pull a strained breath into my lungs.
His eyes glaze over again, and he begins to pound harder. “Fuck–” he growls, “fuck.” His voice is low. He leans down to press his sweaty forehead against mine. With a series of uneven, violent thrusts, Carter releases his seed inside of me. He groans loudly and squeezes my neck so hard it feels like he’d just strangle me right there. His sweaty body collapses onto me. He breathes sharply while his heart thuds in his chest. He lays his weight on me and leaves his dick inside me for a moment, releasing the pressure on my neck but keeping his hands there.
“Good?” He lifts his head.
I nod and run my hands through his hair. He pulls out of me, and I feel his seed begin to leak out of my sore hole. He rolls off the bed and pops to his feet casually like we've done this a million times before. I watch his softening cock bob with each step hypnotically.
“I can get the spare room ready, if you still want.”
I shake my head.
“Good choice.”
I stand to stretch my muscles. I bring my arms over my head and slowly back down.
“Dinner? On me.”
I nod. Cater walks over to the closet, pulling out a fresh set of clothes. He dresses himself quickly, efficiently. I watch him to take my mind off my throbbing body. The room is quiet aside from the hissing air conditioning and Carter’s footsteps. Once he’s dressed, he turns to me, his eyes taking in my naked body. There’s a hunger in his gaze similar to the one when we first wrestled– a need to claim me and a right to my body that sends a shiver down my spine. His words are much kinder, though. “You should get cleaned up.”
I stand and walk into the bathroom. It’s small, but bright. My hair is mussed, my cheeks red. My lips are swollen and my neck has his handprints on it. I rinse off quickly in the shower, soaping up and getting my loose curls under control. I step out of the shower and look at myself in the mirror. I flex my biceps and feel good about myself and my decisions at least a little bit for the first time in a good while. I dry my body off and dress quickly from my suitcase, not too worried about how I look.
I walk downstairs and put my shoes on while Carter watches me intensely. He uncrosses his legs, stands and walks to the door to meet me. He slides the temples of his sunglasses down the neck of his shirt, then he grabs his keys. As his body disturbs the air around him, I catch a fresh whiff of his cologne.
He opens the door for me, and locks it behind me. I lead him to his car and hop in the passenger seat.
“You been to Cane’s yet?”
“I’m from fuck all nowhere, of course I haven’t been.”
“Alright, alright,” he smiles. “I know where we’re going, then.”
We weave through a neighborhood with the largest houses I’ve seen, and pop out on some busy road while the sun blazes in our eyes. The buildings and trees begin to get older, sturdier. Carter keeps his eyes on the road, but I can feel them shift over to me occasionally. I watch people meander down the sidewalk as we enter downtown while Carter scans for a parking spot.
“Fine with walking a bit?” he asks me.
“Yeah. I gotta get familiar with this place.”
We walk down Franklin together, Carter pointing out his favorite places to eat, and the ones I should probably avoid.
“I fucking love Que Chula, but I haven’t been in forever. I'll take you there sometime.”
I peek inside while we pass by the packed patio and loud reggaetón music vibrating the windows. Beautiful murals paint the backdrop of the bar.
“And Spicy 9 is pretty good, long as you don’t have a budget.”
I love the freshness of the air, and how the humidity hugs me, but not enough to stick. The sun falls behind some of the newer apartment buildings, giving our necks some relief from the evening sun. Cane’s itself has a line out the door, and disco balls hanging inside.
Once we get our food, Carter leads me upstairs and we sit at a long high-top table directly under the disco balls, which is a plus to me. He stares at me while he brings a fry to his mouth, watching me pick up the garlic bread as if my opinion of it will make or break his.
“It’s pretty damn good.”
He nods. “Right?”
I chuckle a bit before I turn my focus to my food. We don’t talk until we finish our food. Carter leans back, shirt riding up his stomach.
“Feel like I should give you a tour tomorrow, during the day.”
“Night walks have always been my favorite.”
He ponders the idea while the sun sets outside. “We have plenty of time to get to that.”
As the night comes, we find ourselves together back at Carter’s.
“So, is this your house?”
He laughs audibly. “No, no.” He points to the Greek letters I noted earlier.
“Oh, shit. I don’t know, lol. I guess I thought maybe you and your dad were just big into your frat.”
“Nah, this is a frat house. It’s not our one on campus, clearly. We needed a good one.”
“It’s just so quiet, and there weren’t any other cars in the driveway.”
“Yeah. Most of the guys are gone for summer. We got a group of like eight coming back for summer training. One brother’s been around because his girlfriend lives here.”
“That makes a lot more sense.”
Carter smiles again and flicks his finger towards the door. He stands and waits for me at the door while I throw my stuff away. We walk out the second floor exit and down a metal staircase nested between two brick walls. The road has quieted with cars, but the sidewalks still bustle with families and college students staying here to experience the quietness of a university in the summer.
Carter’s face sets like stone as he pulls out back onto the road. He drives us back, and I stare at him under the sharp, cool light from the dashboard. I hop out of his truck and walk inside with Carter trailing me. He spins me around just after he closes the door and kisses me deeply on the lips, his hand cupping my cheek. His eyes read mine.
“I can’t wait to wrestle you again,” he jokes. He kisses me again shortly. “What do you wanna do?”
“I wanna lay with you,” I say, earnestly.
“Perfect.”
He leads me upstairs by my fingertips and back to his room.
Carter’s room is warmly lit by orange light from a lamp and small lights behind his dresser. The air is filled with the faint scent of him and his cologne. I slide into his bed while he thumbs through one of his drawers. He opens up a record player and gently taps a record into place and sets the needle down. The music fills the room around us, and he walks over to me while peeling off his shirt. He slides into bed next to me and snakes his arm around my back. I lean in and rest my head on his pillowy chest. Carter’s fingers trace gentle patterns along my back, down each muscle and over each freckle. I look up to him and his lips find mine in a lingering kiss, his teeth gently pulling at my bottom lip. We lie still for a while while his breathing dances around mine. Carter hums along to the music, his heartbeat sets the tempo while I listen to it rise with each breath he takes. He runs his hands through my hair slowly, scrunching it in his fingers and then down over my face. He pushes it back, then tucks it behind my ears. Minutes tick by while I look out the window at the blackness of the night.
I reflect on the day, the last couple weeks. I imagine maybe how this may be too much, but who cares when it feels so damn good. Carter drifts in and out of sleep. His breathing steadies and rises, a faint, drowsy murmur escapes his lips each time. I can feel his heart quicken each time he wakes, and his hand begins the same pattern on my skin. I couldn’t have imagined that we’d end up so close after feeling like the world was so wrong, but now with his skin against mine everything felt so inevitable. I watch the muscles in his shoulder and arms ripple while he runs his hand gently down my back. I shiver, and he lifts his hand in response. Carter traces the curve of my back, down the small, pressing ever so slightly under the waistband of my underwear.
The night wears on and Carter eventually drifts to sleep for good. The record stopped spitting music, but the rustle of the leaves outside does me fine. The weight of his hand secures me, and I doze in and out until my eyes open again to the early morning light pulling through the window. Carter shifts, inhaling deeply and lifting his arms over his head. He lets them fall slowly onto my back and he meets my eyes to see if I’ve woken yet.
“Mornin’,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.
“Good morning.” I smile and look up at him.
He plants a kiss on my head. It lingers for a moment before he pulls the sheets over us. Carter’s eyes flutter closed and his breath evens out. He drifts back to sleep and his hold tightens slightly on my back.
As the morning progresses, the room fills with the hard light of the summer sun. The faint scent of Carter lingers in the air, mingling with the fresh smell of the breeze coming through the open window. Carter stirs slightly again, his hand moves to rest on my hip. His fingers trace lazy circles on my skin, the touch gentle and mindless. I can feel the rough pads of his fingertips so gentle on me. His eyes open again. This time, there’s a spark of awareness in them. He looks at me– really looks at me, and I can see the world coming into focus for him. A slow, creased smile spreads across his face, and he leans in closer to press a soft kiss into my lips.
Carter’s hand presses down my back and under my waistband and he gently squeezes my ass. His eyes never leave mine. There’s a question in his gaze, scanning across my face for permission to explore me. My breath hikes as he runs his finger across my hole and slowly massages my balls. His touch is feather-light, almost hesitant at first, but it grows more possessive as my skin grows more sensitive. He slides my underwear down and takes my dick in his hand, teasing my head with his thumb while he begins to stroke. He kisses me gently, tasting and teasing. I can feel the heat building with us, tension growing with each soft stroke. His touch is reverant but possessive. I can feel his bulge press against my thigh insistently. Carter’s hand moves faster, his grip tightening slightly as I harden fully. He spreads my precum down my shaft and slickens my dick until it glides effortlessly against his hand. His other hand settles on my nipple, gently pulling and twisting as the tension in my body builds and I can no longer contain the whimpers in my mouth. I arch my back while my desperation rises steadily. I paw at his bulge, finding enough space to get under his underwear and grab it impatiently. He fucks my hand slowly, focusing on pushing me as close to the edge as possible. His lips trail down my neck, nipping and sucking at my skin. My body tightens, the pressure increasing even more.
“Carter,” I gasp, my body flexing.
He looks at me and his lips part. “Cum for me.”
I want this. I want him so badly. He smiles, a slow, sexy grin as I tumble over the edge. My body shakes, and with a final, desperate cry, cum shoots onto my abs. It’s enough to make him groan, throwing the sheets off of his thighs as he huffs harshly and releases his seed onto my thigh. He pulls my jaw up, crawling on top of me and smearing his seed into mine. He smiles while my body shakes. He breathes into my mouth and locks his lips with mine one final time. He lays on me for a moment before hopping up and grabbing a pair of underwear to clean his seed off of his dick. He tosses it to me and I sit up on the edge of the bed.
“So,” he chuffs. “What do you wanna do today?”
“You choose.”
“Well, I was gonna go to campus and get a good workout in, but I got a friend who wants to meet you, too.” He beckons me to the shower with a flick of his head.
We cram ourselves together, his hands rubbing against my skin while I turn on the water. We shudder while it runs cold, but it warms quickly. He soaps his hands and runs them firmly across my body, scrubbing my chest and taking a handful of my pec every now and then. I shampoo my hair, and return the favor.
“I’ve never showered with anyone before?”
“Really now.”
“Nah.”
“You should get used to it. I don’t like to shower alone.”
“I’ll write it down.” I pretend to scribble on his back while he washes the last of the soap from himself. He laughs.
Carter dresses well. He wears expensive sunglasses and crisp, fitted t-shirts that accentuate his chest and shoulders, but hang off of his chest. He cuffs the sleeves of a light pink polo, and leaves the button undone. I slide on a thick white tee and cream shorts. I snap the clasp of a silver necklace with a small, green gemstone that changes color in the sun. My sweat has tarnished the steel chain, but I don’t care enough to replace it yet. Carter stands in front of his mirror and adjusts his collar. He runs his hands through his hair and sprays something in it, then he glances at me through the mirror. His emerald eyes flick down to the necklace at my chest, then back up.
Downstairs the house is cool and still. Carter brews a pot of coffee and checks his phone. He grabs two mugs without asking and sets one down in front of me. His fingers brush mine gently and I thank him. Carter leans against the countertop and stares at his phone intently, his face shifting occasionally. He puts his phone face down on the counter and stares at me instead like he’s trying to gauge how long I’ll stay, but he won’t ask. Not yet.
“You hungry?” He asks.
“I don’t usually eat breakfast.”
He nods and presses a finger against the dimple in his chin. “That wasn’t the question.” He tries again. “Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.”
He presses his lips together. “Good.” He pulls out a pan and cracks eggs quickly into it. I watch him cook.
He moves with the same confidence that he does on the mat. Efficiency and composure are his virtues by daylight, almost annoyingly so. The eggs sizzle as they hit the pan, and he sprinkles salt from his hand. He drops bagels down into one of those large industrial toasters that the large family in my neighborhood had. I smile at the thought of being back home.
“Do you like your eggs scrambled?”
“Sure.”
“Good, I broke the yolk already.” He smiles at himself, turning back to the stove. I sip my coffee while Carter plates the food. “You should start eating breakfast.”
“I know. I usually have a protein shake instead.”
He holds his fork between his teeth and looks at his phone again. The sound of the metal prongs makes me cringe a little once he finally pulls it out of his mouth and begins to push egg into his mouth, careful to not get any in his mustache.
“You and your shakes,” he mumbles between bites. “How do you feel about the weight goal we set. I think you got it. Get fifteen pounds of good muscle on you.”
I nod. “I think it’ll be good to keep me feeling strong.”
He nods back. “I can’t wait to see you in action again on Monday. I’m excited to introduce you to some of our squad.”
I shrug. “Yeah, I’m nervous.”
Carter chews for a moment, then sets his fork down. “Don’t be.” He leans back in his chair and stretches his arms overhead with a grunt. His shirt rides up his body slightly to reveal the edge of his defined stomach. “I think you’ll find your groove fast. Most of the guys are solid. Competitive, sure– that’s what you get when your coach builds a nationally relevant team for the first time in a decade.” He pauses briefly. “And– the one you’ll meet today– Reuben– he’s cool. He’s a top dog, kinda intense and wants everyone to know he’s intense. I think you’ll get along with him. He’s been curious to meet you.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“He– I think so.” Carter tries to downplay his uncertainty. “Yeah.”
I raise an eyebrow but let it go. If he can be chill with Reuben, then that shouldn’t be a problem with me. I take another sip of my coffee and look out the window. The sky’s still hazy from the dew evaporating off the grass and trees. Carter finishes his coffee in a few steady gulps, then rinses his mug in the sink. I slide mine across the counter. He grabs his keys and waits for me by the door.
“Reuben’s already out at the park doing his thing. Wants us to meet him near one of the trailheads.”
“Sounds good.”
“He’s chill, I promise. You just gotta get through his ego.”
“Right.” I fake a smile.
Carter grabs a football from the basket near the door and slings a string bag over his shoulder. I follow him out into the warming air. We drive with the windows down, and Carter’s fingers tap on the outside of the truck door. The park is mostly empty when we arrive. The morning shift mothers who jog with their babies and bachelors who work campus jobs have mostly left, and it’s too early for students to begin filling up the sunny lawns after class. Carter parks at the end of the lot and we walk along the pavement until it turns into a path of trodden grass. Reuben is already there, stretching his arms behind his back in a white cutoff tee, his frame thick and commanding.
“Yo,” Carter calls, tossing him the ball. “This is him.”
Reuben catches the ball without breaking eye contact. “So you’re the guy,” he says. He passes me the ball harder than necessary.
“I guess so,” I reply, locking the ball firmly in my hands.
We spread into a triangle, the ball whipping between us through lines of morning light, the forest floor soft underneath. Reuben tests my arm strength and speed with long, bulleted passes. I match him. Carter watches us both, the tension not spoken but still noticeable. We fall into a good rhythm, easy silence broken by the sound of leather against rough palms. Carter makes us run routes, and I quickly get acquainted with Reuben’s speed and strength. Every pass Carter tosses me somehow lands in Reuben’s hands. He palms the ball and turns to me, his deep brown eyes staring past mine.
“So. What’s your story?” He asks, juggling the football. “You just decided one day to walk into our world?”
“I got recruited,” I state. “Just like you.”
Reuben snorts. “Recruited’s a strong word. I’ve seen highlight reels get dudes scholarships. Doesn’t mean they can hang.”
“I guess we’ll see on Monday.”
He nods, stepping closer– close enough that I can see a faint scar on his right cheek. “Yeah. We will.”
Carter claps once, loud enough to break Reuben off of me. “Cool. Love this whole alpha thing, really do. Can we save this shit for later, I still have more routes to throw, or do I have to separate you.”
“Relax, dad. I’m just getting a read.” Reuben grins at Carter.
Carter tosses the ball to me. “Alright, QB. Let’s see the arm.
I drop back a few steps and sling it toward him, spiral tightening right into his chest. Carter catches and pivots. Reuben glances at me sidelong, something unreadable in his expression. Not approval– he’s not willing to give that up yet. We keep running plays as the sun climbs higher into the sky. Carter slips into laughter more easily, calling out dumb routes.
“Post to the oak tree.”
“Slant to the trash can.”
Reuben doesn’t joke much, but he starts throwing clean. By the time we call it, a sweat shadow covers most of my shirt. My hands burn, and so does my chest, but I’m smiling. I peel my sweaty shirt off my head and sling it over my shoulder. Reuben paces, flipping the ball hand to hand. Without warning, he lobs it at my chest. I catch it out of instinct, but it thuds hard enough to sting.
He smiles faintly. “Not bad,” he says. “You’ve got a decent arm, secure hands.” Reuben rolls his shoulders back while the football hangs in his grip. “You move alright, but I can’t tell if you’re fast or just scared to get touched.”
I snort and smile, glancing over at Carter. “You wanna find out?”
Reuben grins sharply, “yeah,” his tone rough, “I kinda do.”
Before I can react, he shoulder checks me, hard, maybe playful. Heavy enough that I have to plant a foot to keep from stumbling. Carter watches intently, his mouth releases an annoyed groan in the background, but he doesn’t stop. Reuben circles me slowly. His hips are low and his stance is wide, chest to me but legs even, oozing with the loose swagger that says I could take you down if I wanted to.
“You always start fights during recovery,” I ask, matching his stance just slightly.
“Not fights. Assessments.” Reuben slaps my back.
Carter groans again, louder. Reuben’s hand lingers for a second too long on my back, then he gives me a shove right to my center of gravity. I stumble maybe a few inches before resetting.
“You set up quick, at least.” He fakes a level change, just a twitch of his shoulders in my direction, but I flinch anyway. He clocks it, and his eyes light up while he raises a finger to mock me. Reuben is what I would call a massive guy, to say the least. He’s bigger than Carter, and Carter already has spare inches and good weight on me. “Aw, come on. You flinching already?”
I roll my eyes and bump him, chest to chest, or whatever you can call it when he’s got so much size on me. Reuben chuckles again, breath puffing from his nose. He hooks a hand behind my neck, grip snug like a collar tie. He tugs gently at first, then tightens and tries to throw me off balance. I resist, planting my feet as I swipe his hand away from me. We circle again, and he leans in more this time.
“Alright,” he mutters, “you’ve wrestled before.”
“Glad that’s clear.”
Reuben snorts. “Still doesn’t mean you’ll hang in our room.” He shifts his weight suddenly and his sweaty chest presses into my face.
Carter whistles low, walking up to us now. “Y’all done with the mating ritual or should I give you a mat for five minutes?”
Reuben lets go, but smacks my chest once more. “You’re not bad, but I’m not impressed.” He steps back and slides his Pitvipers on his face. He adjusts his camo shorts and turns to face Carter.
There’s something predatory in the way that he surveys me. He doesn’t give me space with his body or his eyes. He closes the distance again, this time faster. He slams his shoulder into my upper chest with a force that knocks me off balance enough for me to fall into the dirt.
“The fuck, man?”
Carter watches.
“Just making sure you’re not all talk.”
I hop up to my feet and Reuben shoves me again, harder, pushing me off the path of least resistance, trying to see how far I’ll bend before I snap.
Carter crosses his arms. I push into Reuben, making sure that I’m not backing down. I stand my ground while his weight leans in, trying to wear me down. Reuben lets up only to take his sunglasses off again. He peels off his shirt to reveal his stunning body, covered in thick black fur. He hits a double bicep pose, sweat glistening off of each peak. A drop slides down his tricep from his hairy pit. I swallow hard. Reuben drives his shoulder into me again, sending me stumbling back to the other edge of the path. I plant my feet, feeling the dirt shift under my sneakers.
“Come on. You’re really gonna fall for that?” Reuben sneers, his voice low and biting. Without waiting for a response, he steps forward and pushes me in the chest. I throw my weight forward to meet his force with my own, but he anticipates the move. He shoves me once more– this time the earth below me gives more than I expect, and I fall back onto my ass hard.
“You’re supposed to be tough, right?” He taunts. Now I see why Carter and Reuben get along. “But all I see is someone who’s scared to fight back.”
“Why would I fight?”
He growls. His eyes narrow as he steps closer. His jaw tightens. “You fight because you don’t let someone push you around, that’s why.” He keeps harassing me, pushing me backward until the bark of a pine tree scratches my back. His dark brown eyes lock onto mine. I can feel the weight of his body pushing into mine. His sweaty fuzz almost prickly. I clench my fists, debating whether or not I let myself go and fight back.
“You’re scared.”
“Nah,” I clench my jaw. “Not scared. Just not stupid enough to take unnecessary hits.”
Reuben grins showing teeth. “You’re stupid if you think virtue is gonna get you around being physical. He jams a fist into my hard stomach and my knees hinge, but I maintain my balance.
“What the fuck?” I sneer, my breath hitching.
“Alright, Reuben,” Carter steps in and pushes him back. “That’s enough.”
Reuben shoves Carter. “You know how I operate.” There’s a coldness in Reuben’s eyes now, unlike anything I’ve ever seen in Carter’s.
Carter straightens up. “Don’t act like I don’t, Reuben,” he retorts, a touch of warning in his voice.
Reuben rolls his shoulders and shrugs, putting his sunglasses back on his face and looking over at me. “This isn’t shit.”
