were balancing on the knife-edge of discretion. They blurred a few new lines each week, it seemed. But no one ever guessed they were more than friends. Close friends. But nothing more.
He walked Justin to class in the mornings, and they’d eaten lunch together at the park until Justin’s clinical rotations had begun. They squeezed in dinners together, eating in Wes’s truck or driving to the park. Then they started eating on the porch of Wes’s house. Wes came up with the bright idea to do homework together, and that led to them sitting on the floor in Wes’s bedroom together. They’d have their textbooks spread on the floor, their notebooks open, laptops in their laps… and hold hands between their legs, out of sight of anyone who might barge into Wes’s bedroom. There was no privacy in that house.
“Where did you guys meet?” Colton asked Wes one day in the upstairs bathroom, halfway through shaving.
Wes was brushing his teeth, and he spat toothpaste on Colton’s whiskers left behind in the sink. “French. We’ve had a few classes together. He’s cool. Real funny. And crazy smart.”
“Is he friends with your girl?”
“They know each other.”
Colton had nodded, like he’d finally figured out why Wes was even talking to a guy like Justin. He’d gone back to his shaving, then paused again. “Is that why you’re taking so much French? For this girl?”
“I might want to use it one day.”
“You don’t need French in the NFL.”
He’d ignored Colton, walked out and turned the light off on him. Colton called him an asshole and then never brought up Justin’s name again. Had he forgotten the whole thing? Forgotten, so easily, the man who meant everything in the world to Wes?
What if he’d told Colton the truth?
His secrets clawed at his insides, made his guts ache.
He wanted to see Justin all the time, but they couldn’t be together as often as he, or Justin, wanted. And to hook up, they had to sneak away: cuddling in a sleeping bag under the stars in the back of Wes’s truck way out in the boonies, or, one memorable evening, going at it in the locker room when Wes purposely stayed way late after practice and Justin sneaked in. Justin had watched Wes shower and then made Wes give him a blow job in front of Wes’s locker. After that, Justin rode him on the locker room bench until Wes’s fingernails bit into his hips and he came shouting Justin’s name.
They were trying to be discreet. Keep their love hidden. But it was hard. Wes wanted Justin to be a part of his life, in every way possible. Wanted to spend the night with him, like the other guys had girls stay over in their rooms. Wanted to wake up in Justin’s arms, wake Justin up with Wes’s mouth around his cock. He wanted to hold Justin’s hand as they walked to class. He wanted to carry Justin’s backpack and his books. Take him out on real dates, not just to drive-throughs and parking lots where they could sneak a make-out session.
He could feel the rents in his soul growing. Feel the pieces of himself slide farther apart.
Who am I when you love me?
He only felt complete when he was with Justin. He was the man he was meant to be when they were together.
And he didn’t want to ever let that feeling go.
Wes helped Justin to his feet and kissed his forehead. “Wanna get out of here?”
“Yeah. I don’t think I’m going to find the girl of my dreams at this party.”
Wes laughed, and he guided Justin out of the bedroom and back down the hall past the frat brother, now deep in conversation with a leggy brunette and her blonde friend. They thundered down the stairs and burst into a living room choked with people. College kids were wall to wall. The stench of beer and sweat hit them like a truck. Wes took Justin’s hand and led him through the crowd to the front door.
Outside, he reluctantly let go of Justin’s hand. It was a ten-minute walk to Opal Street, and they detoured to a late-night coffee bar on the way. By the time they got back, Wes was buzzing, caffeine and Justin and the crisp autumn air hitting his veins. He eyed his house as he walked Justin up the front steps of his blue Victorian.
Justin seemed to read his mind. “Why don’t you come up to my room?” He slid his ID