idea to use these.” He produced handfuls of bandanas in red and navy blue from a bag. “Listen, yo. My team is blue.” He started handing out blue bandanas.
One of the A-hoes groaned. “Do we seriously have to fucking wear these? We have two colored flags this time.”
Another said, “If it was Bubba’s idea, you know it’s bad.” He laughed.
“Stuff it, Rex,” Bubba said loudly. “The new guys don’t know us yet. In a game, we’d have on uniforms. Wearing bandanas will make the teams more visible, and it won’t kill you.”
“Bubba’s right. Do you want to win the championship or be a snowflake?” Tray snarked.
Rex took the bandana.
“Now. Dustin is on my team, and Bubba has to take—I mean, he’s got Hedgehog.”
“Sean,” Bubba said. He grabbed red bandanas from the bag, gave me one, tossed the others to various guys who were presumably on our team, then tied one around his head. It made him look like an 18th-century pirate. It was rather dashing. I made a mental note to tell him that later. It would make him laugh.
“Yeah, Sean. Whatever,” said Tray, not looking at me. “Newbies, watch and learn. Does anyone not know the rules of the game at this point?”
Now he looked at me. I raised my chin. I’d studied the rules online and watched games on YouTube, from start to finish, even though they were mind-numbingly tedious and more complex than Bubba had made out.
“Fine. Then let’s do it.”
Everyone jogged toward the center of the snowy field. I forced my feet to follow. I didn’t want to be there. After my humiliating mistake two weekends ago, running the wrong way, I practically had a LOSER sign hanging over my head. The disdain from the other players was palpable. And I was tired, sore, and achy too. In fact, I’d been so sore last weekend, Bubba had made me skip practice. He was proving to be highly conscientious, not to mention well-informed. He’d met with me every day for the past two weeks for training. We’d done shoulders, back, arms, legs, butt, abs. Currently, my stomach was as tender as an infected tooth from doing thirty sit-ups. I had to remember not to tense that area—and winced in pain when I forgot.
Despite that, however, pain be damned—I was more determined to get into shape than ever.
Spending time in the gym, being around Bubba, was highly motivational. I found myself staring at his muscles. Now that I knew firsthand what went into achieving those muscles, they fascinated me. What would it be like to have half of his strength? My parents had always turned up their noses at the pursuit of physical fitness. Why waste time on jogging or lifting weights when you could be reading journals, working on research, or otherwise improving your mind? But I was beginning to appreciate that fitness required a certain fortitude and discipline.
Perhaps that was why the more time I was around Bubba, the more handsome and sexy he looked to me. The massages he regularly gave me to release the lactic acid from my muscles went a long way toward sparking that attraction. No one had ever touched me like that before—strong hands on my bare skin. And though I knew, logically, he was only doing it in a medicinal capacity, my body just wanted more and more.
I was wanting more and more a lot these days.
I googled Does exercise make you horny? And, while it doesn’t for people who are already in shape, it certainly can for those who, like me, have been, shall we say, lax in their mobility. Increased blood flow is sufficient explanation in and of itself since, obviously, the penis is erectile tissue, which operates on blood flow. But I learned the hormonal system, and specifically testosterone, is also boosted by exercise.
In other words—in order to solve my problem of finding a sexual partner, I had to first make myself physically desperate. Fantastic.
“Sean. Buddy. You’re with me. Come on.” Bubba was standing in front of me.
“Huh? Oh, yes.”
“Are you gonna put on your bandana? It was your idea.” He looked amused.
I glanced down. I was holding the red bandana in my hand. I tied it loosely around my neck. “Thank you for suggesting this. Although the use of a bandana specifically could be a detriment, no? Someone could grab you and hold you in place, like this, and then do whatever they wanted to you—” I demonstrated, placing my hand in the makeshift collar and