“Well. It feels kinda dishonest to say yes,” I admit.
“Itisdishonest,” Nicko, who finally managed to fight Olli off, agrees.
“Again, after whatyoupulled last year, you don’t get a say in any kind of moral dilemma for at least another decade,” Sasha scolds, pointing a finger at Nicko, which makes him shrink back into his lawn chair with his hands raised in surrender.
“Yeah, yeah, okay, got it. I’ll just look pretty and listen.”
“Why does it feel dishonest?” Linden’s question startles me. He’s been so quiet through all of this; I forgot he was there.
“Uhm. Well, I think he might assume I have more experience with guys than I actually do. Because of Seb, I mean. We…probably took that a tiny bit too far.” My ears heat up as I flash him a sheepish grin, my hands busy kneading the cap.
“You think?” Olli deadpans.
“Mia said he wanted to try it with me, specifically. But apparently healsosaid that I’m pretty, sooo maybe it’s just that,” I add that last part jokingly, winking at them when they all groan, then duck as Nicko throws his crumpled-up tissue at me.
“Everyone thinks you’re pretty, big guy.” Sasha reaches out to pat my knee like a loving mother, and I stick out my tongue at her. But Mike asking about me probably also means he feels safe around me, which gives me a sense of pride.
It’s not easy to be queer and pursue a career as a pro athlete. I’ve watched it from the sidelines for three years. Seb’s secret dates, all the faceless pictures exchanged online, the sneaking around, driving a hundred miles for a hook-up that leaves him wrecked for days. The doubt, the fear, the shame. Overthinking every glance, every word, every touch. I’m seeing it happen to Nicko and his boyfriend, too, now—the way they’re all over each other behind closed doors, then jump apart as soon as they leave the house.
“Ugh, I hate to agree with Nicko, but I think this is a bad idea.” Olli sighs. “I mean, what if he does something you don’t like? Would you really call things off, or would you grit your teeth and end up accidentally traumatizing both of you in the process?”
“Uhm, not sure how to say this, but it’s kinda hard to force me into something I don’t like,” I point out, gesturing at my frame, which prompts another groan from my roommates.
“Stop bragging, Micah, and take this seriously! Not being appalled by the idea of sex with someone isn’t the same as wanting it. And I don’t think meeting some big football dude is worth whoring yourself out. You’re good at catching balls andrunning people over, aren’t you? So you shouldn’t need that. And if you do, isn’t Davenport like NFL royalty or something? I bet he could introduce you to a lot of important people if you asked for his help.”
My shoulders tense more with every word coming out of Olli’s mouth. I know this is exactly what Seb would tell me if I had asked him for advice—which is why I didn’t do it. He’s introduced me to his brothers and father before, but I don’t want to rely on my best friend to get a career boost. God knows he already has enough people on this campus trying to bask in his family’s legacy and his social media popularity. Also, Davenport Senior isn’t actively involved in football anymore—unlike Mike’s father, who gets to fill out a wishlist of potential draftees every year.
“Talent isn’t enough anymore, Olli. It’s pretty damn hard to make it without connections these days. And I also agree with Mia: college is for experimenting. I think it can’t hurt to try it out. Just tell him that you don’t have any experience yourself, and see where it goes. Worst case, you’ll have a funny story to tell.”
I hum, genuinely surprised. I’d expected Sasha to lecture me about why even considering this is a bad idea. She has a point, though; I should make sure Mike knows I have zero experience with guys.
But what if that makes him turn away? If he only asked for me because he assumed I had some experience with other guys—or at least with threesomes—he might change his mind when I tell him.
No, I realize quietly, I can’t do that. Like Sasha just said: talent isn’t enough anymore, not at our level.
I need this chance. But instead of saying any of this out loud, I smile at my roommates and put the cap back on my head.
“Thanks, guys, that really helped.”
Linden, June 9th
Istare at the back of the cereal package as if the answers of the universe might be hidden beneath the table of ingredients. Who measures out eight ounces of cereal? With a sigh, I put the package back onto the shelf, glancing at Micah, who's mustering up the rows of oats closely, lost to his surroundings.
It's why I like doing the groceries with him: he knows where everything is, and we can split the huge list of the Nook between us. We can also take our time without either of us getting impatient. Usually, Micah only writes the list, since he does most of the cooking. But after yesterday, it became clear that we really needed to fill our cupboards. However, aside from me, everybody was busy today. Even Nicko just pushed his part of the grocery money at me, telling me to “Get more chips! The biggest bags you can find!” before he flitted out the door, nearly bashing me with his huge duffel bag.
At least Micah was happy to come along, rather than tell me what to bring. He stretches for the top shelf and grabs three packets of oats.
I'm spellbound by the way his frame unfolds. His shirt billows forward, giving me a glimpse of his hipbone as well as his muscles moving under his skin before I tear my eyes back down at our list.
I've been trying not to think about it, but my brain has saved Micah's deep moan to replay it at the most inconvenient times, just like how small Mia's hands looked as they grabbed his ass. Inevitably, all that leads me to think about her flirty smile when I interrupted them. Coupled with what I know now about her pressuring Micah about a threesome…well. I've been paying a lot more attention to my roommate in the past few days than I should.
I didn't give any credit to the gossip about Micah and Davenport until I saw it happen in our bathroom. Before that, I thought that Micah was the kind of guy who'd tell you “Thanks, but no thanks” if you accidentally hit on him in a club. All while dancing up on girls with a buddy on the other side of her.
I shake my head to interrupt yet another replay of the bathroom incident. Not like I ever thought about hitting on him! We're roommates. Added to that, we’re in entirely different leagues. Micah is someone people instantly notice. He's gorgeous in that sun-tanned, made-for-a-magazine-cover kind of way. And his differently colored eyes give him a touch of mystery that makes girls queue up to be with him—and I can absolutely understand them.
I really should worry more about my own list than Mia's, though.
“Milk, tampons for Sasha, and veggies are next,” I comment after I pick out several cereal boxes that cover the preferences of everyone.
