Chapter 3
Landon
Moving out of my mom’s house and into the dorms was supposed to make my lifeeasier.
It didn’t. Fear still clings to me all the time. Hell, it may as well be my middle name at this point. Landon Fear Carter.
Afraid to come out. Afraid to explore. Afraid that I won’t be able to keep my true self hidden forever.
My mom is the epitome of Christian conservative. I love her, and I know she loves me. Or she loves who shethinksI am, anyway. Sometimes, I’m not sure how far that love would actually go. The fear is crippling, and even though I have had crushes on girls, I’ve never felt right about saying anything about it. Because I’ve never been attracted tojustgirls. And the fear of giving her false hope…
It’s not fun at all.
College was supposed to be about me finding myself, and that’s why I chose one so far from home. I didn’t expect my mom to put her house up for sale andfollow me.That’s weird behavior. But it’s her behavior.
Mom went on and on about how she wasn’t ready to let her only little boy go. Never mind the fact that I’m twenty and have been trying to distance myself from her since my teen years when I realized something about me wasn’t… right.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I don’t actually believe what the pastor says about gay people, but I know she does—she has to, right?—and that’s enough to have me in a constant spiral.
Will she find out? Will she disown me?
Will I ever just be free to behappyand myself?
This year, things are going to be different.
They have to be.
I can’t keep living with all the questions. I can’t keep living without knowing who I am or what I want. Ben’s big hazel eyes flash in my mind, and my stomach heats. Okay, so I’m pretty sure I know at least alittleofwhat I want.
Sometimes I’d swear he’s flirting with me, but I also have no frame of reference, so who can be sure? Certainly not me. I know he’s a nice guy, and that he took me under his wing immediately, but maybe that’s just who he is.
Maybe the way he winks and stares at me for longer than is strictly polite means nothing. And the absolute last thing I need is to ruin one of the few friendships I’ve built here by assuming it’s anything more than that. I’m not even sure that I want him to be flirting with me.
I’m so in my head that I’m not paying any attention to where I’m going, and when I turn a corner, I slam into someone so hard things go flying down the hallway.
“Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you?”
The words are spoken with bite and anger, but the voice is sweet and almost musical. I’m opening my mouth to apologize when I’m met with a blue-eyed stare that nearly bowls me over.
“Seriously? You think because you’re a damn giant that you can just go around knocking people over?”
I mean, in football, that pretty much is my whole job. “No, of course not.”
The guy runs a hand through his messed-up white-blond hair, then rolls his eyes. “Well, are you just gonna stand there, or are you going to help me?”
My body moves on autopilot as I kneel to start picking things up. I’ve gathered all the paintbrushes and pencils when a drawing catches my eye. My face heats when I realize it’s Ben. Naked and sketched perfectly, each line and detail of his body realized in perfect clarity. This guy even sketched neatly trimmed hair around his cock.
It’s so realistic that mine gives a twitch in my jeans, and I quickly look away. This must be one of the people in that art class who drew Ben the other day.
He snatches the paper out of my hand, glaring at me. “Stop looking at my art, weirdo. What’s wrong with you?”
My throat goes dry. Fuck, he’s pretty. Even when he’s glaring. Especially when he’s glaring. I swallow hard, embarrassed when my throat clicks. “I’m sorry.”
“You know what? You should be.”
I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling. “I am. I was lost in my head and not paying attention.”
With a glare still etched on his pretty face, he holds a hand out. It takes me a second to realize he’s waiting for me to give his stuff back. I hold it out wordlessly, and he takes it from me with a huffed breath.
