At first, Rory and I stuck to our usual routine. He’d wait for me at our table and greet me with an iced coffee and a roguish smile, but within five minutes we’d be itching for contact. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Knees under the table, fingers brushing over a homework assignment. It was never enough. I was tempted to give in to his suggestion that we just fuck in the bathroom, but we tended to get vocal during sex and the last thing either of us needed was to guest star on someone’s Instagram feed. “Horny QB and tattooed hunk’s walk of shame at a local Starbucks.” No thanks.

After two study sessions, it became apparent that we were torturing ourselves, and I wasn’t learning anything new. Rory suggested we meet at his apartment after practice instead. He’d make me dinner and we’d have a private place to study. And have sex. Within a couple of weeks, I was pretty sure we’d fucked on every available surface in his tiny pad. On the sofa, the floor, the coffee table, over the kitchen counter, in the shower, and of course, in bed. I was semi-erect on the drive to his place, and the second he opened the door, it was over. We careened against the walls in a tangle of limbs, clawing at each other’s clothes in a quest to get to skin while we licked and sucked on lips and tongues.

There was something special about getting to know a new lover. Rory was the perfect combination of rough and tender. The kind of partner who made sure to cradle your head so it didn’t hit the wall when a passionate grinding session heated up faster than expected. He was a big fan of raunchy dirty talk. The naughtier, the better. He loved it when I licked his tits and played with his nipple rings. And he always wanted to know what turned me on. Of course, he had his own style of inquiry. He didn’t hold me gently after an intense orgasm and ask if I enjoyed what we’d done. No. Rory was more likely to growl in my ear and demand to know how hard I wanted it. “You want it harder, baby? Say it. Tell me to fuck you harder.” I always complied and he more than delivered.

After we cleaned up and redressed, he’d fluff an extra pillow and instruct me to sit before he began our tutoring session. Maybe our methods were unorthodox, but they seemed to be working. I didn’t start acing my quizzes right away, but I was definitely getting better. If I kept improving, I’d certainly earn the passing grade I needed. The athletic department would be appeased, and my parents would never know there was ever a doubt. At least, not until my transcript was released to Chilton’s law school. But I’d deal with that later.

For now, I was making progress. I hoped.

I shot a wan smile at the professor’s assistant when he handed over my most recent quiz at the end of class. I didn’t dare look at it yet. Every test was getting progressively harder and though I thought I understood the formulas, I couldn’t be sure. I folded the paper, shoved it into my backpack, and walked clear across campus before stopping at a bench under a pepper tree. I took a seat and pulled my cell from my pocket, then mindlessly scrolled through social media until I convinced myself that the scrap of paper burning a hole through my bag was relatively unimportant.

Twenty pics of cute dogs later, I manned up and slipped the test out, folded it open, and…holy fuck. I stared at the number on the top right-hand corner as I searched for Rory’s name, then pressed Call.

He answered on the first ring. “Hey, how did you—”

“Ninety-eight percent,” I blurted.

Silence.

“Really?” he asked, sounding pleasantly surprised.

“Yup. Want me to take a screenshot?”

“No, I believe you. That’s awesome. Congratulations. I’m proud of you, baby.”

Maybe it was throwaway praise, but I basked in the sentiment like a starving man presented with his first decent meal in months. And yes, I especially loved how easily that last word rolled off his tongue. My cheeks felt suddenly warm to the touch as my goofy grin spread like wildfire across my face.

“Thanks. I think this is a good sign.”

“I do too. Were you tired today? You didn’t get much sleep last night.”

That was an understatement. I fell asleep in his arms and I didn’t crawl out of bed until three a.m. Correction, it was four. Rory had pulled me backward, coaxing me with lazy kisses on my neck and along my spine until I lay flat on my stomach. He put a condom on and slowly pushed his way inside. He took his time, speaking in a low, seductive voice about all the things he wanted from me. Mainly, my ass. But that worked for me.

I could still feel him hours later, I mused as I shifted on the bench. “I haven’t slept in days, and I’m pretty sure it’s your fault.”

“My fault? I—hang on a sec.” Rory spoke to someone in the background. Something about reps and weight. “Sorry, I’m in the middle of a training session.”

“Oh. I’ll let you go. Call me later.”

“That’s okay. Evan doesn’t mind if—”

“Evan!” I croaked. “You called me ‘baby’ in front of Evan. My old teammate? That Evan?”

“Dude. Chill.”

“Don’t call me ‘dude’ and don’t tell me to ‘chill,’ ” I hissed, pacing the length of the bench and back again.

“Can I tell you to relax? You’re blowing up for no reason. I excused myself and walked away. He can’t hear me. But even if he could hear, I never said your name.”

“Oh. Right.” I sighed heavily, then picked up my backpack and flopped gracelessly onto the bench. “Sorry.”

“Quit apologizing and go throw a football around or something. Don’t you have practice?”

“No. We have a bye this week. Coach gave us the afternoon off.”

“Oh. Then come here.”

“Where?”

“I’m at the Y. I’m teaching an after-school camp for kiddos, and then I’ll be free to teach you.”

“No way. I just aced a test and I’d like to rest on my laurels for at least twenty-four hours before I have to come back to earth. So unless you want my company for other reasons…”

“Yeah, I want all those other reasons,” he said in a sexy, low voice. “And I want to teach you some wrestling moves too.”

I kicked at a pebble next to my foot and frowned. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You’re wound too tight. Pumping iron or running on a treadmill isn’t gonna help. You need to get some of that energy out. I’ll text you the address. Traffic might suck right now, but I’ll see you within the hour.”

“Whoa. I can’t wrestle, Rory.”

“Not yet, but you can learn. And if it’s too hard or you’re just not in the mood, we’ll take a Zumba class and grab dinner after. What d’ya say?”

I chuckled. “Have you ever taken a Zumba class?”

“Yep. And I’m awesome. But I’m better at wrestling. I gotta go. See you, baby.”

He hung up before I could respond. And I wasn’t sure I could think that fast anyway. Wrestling? Zumba? Baby? He was probably kidding. Maybe about everything. Rory had an irreverent sense of humor with no real rhyme or reason. He might be teasing me to see what I chose to believe, like it might reveal something about my psyche. He was way more intuitive than I would have thought. But I couldn’t figure him out if I didn’t try.

Every YMCA I’d ever been to had the same wholesome vibe regardless of the location. A few of my friends used to go to the one in our neighborhood to hang out after school until their parents got home from work. My mom stayed home, so I didn’t have a reason to go until I insisted on joining a local basketball league that practiced in the Y’s gym. My folks had snobbish views regarding sports. If I was going to play a sport, they would have preferred golf or tennis. I tried those and I was decent enough, but I liked being on a team. There was something satisfying about being part of a system where each person’s contribution mattered. Regardless of my skill level, I felt that sense of community every time I stepped onto a basketball court or a baseball or football field. And I felt it the second I walked into the Long Beach YMCA.

I checked in at the front desk with a perky teenage girl with pink hair and a nose ring who gave me a curious once-over when I told her I was there to meet Rory.

“He’s finishing up a class in the main gym. You can hang out on the bleachers or wait out here,” she said just as a band of wild grade-school kids charged into the reception area, bouncing balls and doing their best to outyell each other.

“I’ll wait in the gym.”

“Good choice,” she agreed with a chuckle.

I made my way down a wide corridor lined with photos and posters commemorating recent events and spotted Rory the second I stepped through the open double doors. He stood in the middle of a series of blue mats laid out on the far end of the area with his hands on his hips. I couldn’t hear what he was saying over the echo of activity on my end. A few parents sat in the stands watching their kids’ basketball practice. They looked like they might be around six or seven. Rory’s group seemed to be a few years older.

They sat at the edge of the mat and appeared to listen intently to whatever he was saying. I wanted to get closer so I could hear him. But when the kids threw their heads back and laughed uproariously to something he said, I felt compelled to observe. I remembered reading somewhere that you could tell a lot about someone by how they treated children and animals. The best teachers were patient, kind, and used inventive measures to hold their pupils’ interest. And they weren’t afraid to show a silly side to make a point.

So yeah, when Rory suddenly crouched low and did a backward somersault that sent the kids into hysterics, my heart soared. Who could blame me? The badass brainiac was a big ol’ teddy bear of a guy with a sweet soul. Fuck, I liked him. A lot. Maybe too much. I hiked my workout bag over my shoulder and made it two steps before someone yanked my elbow and pulled me into a spontaneous hug.

“Hey! What the f—what are you doing here?” Evan asked as he released me.

“I’m…um…” I nodded like an idiot and tried to gather my wits. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” he replied.

He looked great, but he always did. Evan was six two with a thick muscular build, dark short hair, brown eyes, and strong even features. He was anyone’s definition of a handsome man, but his looks were the least impressive thing about him. He was a good-natured goofball and one of my all-time favorite former teammates. He worked hard but knew how to have fun without being obnoxious or taking advantage of his position. He led by example and he’d always supported me as team captain, whether that meant backing me up in the locker room or attending school functions when he would have rather been home with his boyfriend.

“How’s Mitch?”

Evan’s eyes lit up. “He’s great. He’s busy with grad school. Midterms are coming up and he’s stressed, but he’s doing well,” he gushed.

I grinned. “What about you? How’s the real estate game?”

“Dude, I’m actually kicking ass. If the market is still hot when you graduate, I highly recommend taking a chance. I bet I can get you an interview at my firm. You interested?”

“I don’t know. I have to graduate first…and I’ve been warned that won’t happen unless I pass statistics.” I gestured toward the opposite end of the court. “Rory is my tutor.”

“He told me. Shocked the hell out of me, that’s for sure,” he huffed in amusement. “But Mitch always said Rory was really smart.”

“He is. He’s a math genius.” I tried to tone down the note of hero worship in my voice, but Evan’s curious double take made me think I was doing a lousy job. “Perez suggested him when I needed help.”

“Then you’re in good hands.” He shot a thoughtful glance in Rory’s direction before turning back to me. “Hey, Mitch and I are having a small barbeque at our house this Saturday. Can you come?”

“Me?” I asked, pointing at my chest like an idiot.

“Yeah, you. I was going to text you anyway. We moved into our new place a couple of weeks ago. It’s not perfect yet, but we’re getting close. Mitch insisted on buying outdoor patio furniture and a grill last week, so we might as well break ’em in. Nothing crazy. It’s a casual get-together with mostly old college friends. Like you. And Rory too. I was just going to remind him about it, but you can do that for me, eh?”

“Uh, sure. So you’re friends with Rory.”

Evan chuckled. “I know. Weird, isn’t it? We bonded over weight training. We spot each other when we lift and talk sports while we run on the treadmills. He’s a good guy.”

“Mitch doesn’t mind that you’re friends?”

“Not at all. This is how it went down,” he said conversationally. “I joined the Y ’cause I needed an inexpensive place to work out. Day one, I bumped into Rory. I wasn’t happy about it. I was all fired up when I got home. Mitch rolled his eyes and told me to grow up and be nice. My plan was to avoid the guy, but the weight room is pretty damn small and Rory is always here. We ignored each other until I almost dropped a barbell on my foot. He saved the day and I guess that broke the ice. We didn’t have any big heart-to-heart about Mitch, but he told me he knew we were together and that I’m a lucky guy. That was it. I see him practically every day now. I think Mitch was surprised we became friends, but he’s more than cool with it.”

“That’s good.”

“It was Mitch’s idea to invite Rory. He thought it would be a nice gesture. There’s a decent chance he won’t come, but he might if you do.”

Warning bells clanged noisily in my head. “What makes you think so?”

Evan shrugged. “He talks about you all the damn time.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t worry. He doesn’t talk about your test scores. He just seems to like you, that’s all.”

I bit my lip nervously and squinted. I probably looked lost or confused. Both were true. If I didn’t snap out of it fast, Evan might get suspicious. Going to a barbeque hosted by old college friends seemed harmless enough, but I didn’t know if I trusted myself to be with Rory in public with people who knew us. They might notice something different. I tried not to touch him too often or stare too long, but it wasn’t easy.

Everything had changed in the past month. I spent almost all of my free time with Rory. We didn’t dance around our attraction anymore. We knew how we felt about each other, and we acted on it constantly. In private, anyway. We didn’t hide our friendship in public, but no one knew we were lovers. Well, Max might be curious, but we didn’t talk about it. He had his hands full dealing with Sky anyway. They seemed less volatile lately, or maybe that was because I wasn’t home as often. We were all operating in a state of willful ignorance, and it worked for now. Maybe it sounded paranoid, but attending a barbeque together might upset the balance.

“I like him too, but I don’t think he’s going to want to go to a party with me,” I bluffed.

“It’s hotdogs, hamburgers, and beer, man. It’s not a fuckin’ date or a—” Evan paused when his phone buzzed in his hand. He glanced at the screen and sighed. “I gotta run. I’m supposed to show a house in fifteen minutes. Listen, I’ll text you the time and the address. Mitch said two o’clock…I think.”

“Wait! Thanks for the invite, but I’m not sure I can make it,” I said quickly.

Evan narrowed his gaze and tapped my forehead with his finger. “I hate to do this, but I gotta pull the guilt card. ’Member all those times in college when you asked me to…and I quote…‘do you a favor’?”

I scowled. “Yeah, but—”

“Do me a favor and come to the stupid barbeque. And bring a case of beer. See ya, buddy.” He patted my shoulder, then headed for the door.

I swiped my hand over my mouth and gulped. Maybe this wasn’t a big deal, but it felt like a freak collision of my public and private life. Fuck.

I turned toward the action on the mats and laughed aloud at the sight of Rory playing Duck, Duck, Goose with the kids. A skinny boy with wild hair ran around the small circle they’d formed, bopping everyone on the head and calling out “Duck.” I sensed the growing buzz of hysteria as Rory prepared to be named “It.” He went from a sitting position, then crouched low like a tiger ready to pounce. But his goofy expression was the clincher. The combination of faux serious and silly was slapstick comedy at its finest. The anticipation alone fed the frenzy. So when the boy finally tapped Rory’s head, they all hooted merrily and cheered him. He jumped up to chase the kid and pretended to lose his balance to give the boy a chance to make it back to his place in the circle. The kids roared with laughter.

Rory’s playful scowl slipped when he noticed me. He glanced at his watch and held up two fingers indicating he was almost free before skipping like a child around the perimeter. I leaned against the wall and grinned as the kids burst into a new round of giggles. They egged him on as he made a second lap.

“It’s my turn, Rory!”

“Choose me!”

He slowed down and looked like he was about to stop when someone yelled, “Run, don’t skip. That’s so gay.”

Rory halted midstride and frowned at the kid.

“Well, that’s good, ’cause I’m gay,” he said matter-of-factly.

I moved away from the wall, casting my gaze from the bleachers to the puzzled-looking kids. Great. Any second now, some irate parent was going to charge forward demanding to know what the hell possessed him to share his private life with their precious darlings. Geez, maybe Coach Perez’s kids were out there. I doubted Perez cared if Rory was gay, but he might take exception to a group discussion about it. I wasn’t sure what the protocol for defense was in instances like this. Rory wasn’t the type of guy to back down from anything or anyone. He wouldn’t apologize for stating his truth. And while I admired that about him, I had to admit, it made me very uncomfortable. He was a wild card. Anything could happen.

“You are not,” the boy said with a bewildered frown.

“I am,” he countered. “Gay people come in all shapes and sizes, and we have all kinds of interests. Just like you. All right. Time’s up. See you guys next week. Fist bumps!”

The kids jumped to their feet and surrounded Rory, hopping around him excitedly in an effort to be the first to say good-bye. They seemed unfazed by his revelation, and so did the parents hovering nearby. Rory greeted a few of them before turning to me with a smile.

“How’s it goin’?” he asked. “I saw you—”

“Bye, Rory!” A small girl held her hand up for a high five. When he complied, she pointed to me and bit her lip shyly before continuing. “Is he your boyfriend?”

He gave an exaggerated sigh and shook his head. “No. He’s just a friend. Don’t tell him I have a crush on him.”

The girl snickered mischievously, then blurted, “He likes you!”

“Well, I guess that secret is out,” he huffed in amusement as he nudged my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get outta here.”

Rory motioned for me to follow him out the side door and down a short hallway to a weight-room-slash-mini-gym. There were treadmills and elliptical machines on one end facing a large window with a view of the outdoor basketball court and swimming pool. He greeted a few people but didn’t stop until he reached the punching bags positioned over a large swath of mats. I dropped my bag on the floor and took in my surroundings. There were maybe five or six other people working out at the opposite end of the room, but this corner was empty and relatively private.

“This is nice,” I commented.

“Yeah, it’s not bad. They’ve done a ton of improvements since I was a kid. This whole section was added on three years ago. We’re standing on what used to be the playground. They got rid of the rusty old equipment and replaced it with some swanky new stuff and moved it to the grass by the hoops. Better use of space, if you ask me.”

“You came here when you were a kid?” I asked.

“Every day after school.” Rory clapped his hands as if to signal a conversation change, then pointed at the punching bags. “Boxing or wrestling? Pick your poison.”

“My coach will be pissed if I show up with bloodied knuckles, so wrestling, I guess.”

Rory rolled his eyes. “It’s not a brick wall, so you’d most likely be fine, but I was thinking we’d try something different and—”

“Hang on.” I put my hands up and let out the breath I felt like I’d been holding since he came out to his camp kids in the gymnasium. “What happened back there?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You told those kids you were gay. Is that gonna be a problem?”

“For who?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You came out.”

“I am out. I don’t care who knows. And if an eight-year-old is going to call me gay for skipping, he should know I’m just as gay when I bench press his dad’s weight with one hand tied behind my back. It’s called a teaching moment, babe. Kids aren’t going to learn if they aren’t taught. Am I right?”

“Yes. For sure, but…are their parents going to be okay with it?”

“Fuck ’em. I don’t care what they think. If they don’t want their kids hanging out with me, they can make other arrangements. Any other questions?” he asked sharply.

I licked my lips and nodded. “Yeah, like a million. I thought you just came out a year ago? How did you mentally get here so fast? You don’t seem like the type of guy who gives a crap what anyone thinks about him.”

“I don’t now, but I did in college. I wasn’t ready for uncomfortable conversations with my family, friends, or teammates. Everyone assumed I was straight based on looks alone, and it was a helluva lot easier to go along with it. But I was an asshole too. I hinted at being bi in case I got caught in a compromising situation. Then I got really stupid and dated a few girls to back up my claim and appease my mom.

“I was such a dick. I dug holes for myself all over the place. And unfortunately, I wasn’t man enough to be in a relationship with an out-and-proud guy who was president of the LGBTQ club and wore pink unicorn shirts every other day.

“Losing Mitch sucked, but looking at myself in the mirror and realizing I was my own worst enemy was even harder. I did some serious soul-searching after a particularly ugly night of excess at a college party. Let me give you a word of advice.…Never try to make a gay man jealous by getting frisky with a girl in his best friend’s roommate’s bed.”

“No shit. You did that?”

“Yeah. I told you, I was jerk. Anyway, the aftermath was my wake-up call. I burned bridges, pissed off some good people, and had to beg forgiveness from Mitch and a really cool girl who, thankfully, is still a friend of mine. And then, I came out. It wasn’t pretty, but I did it. My only regret is that I didn’t do it sooner.”

“Did you do it to win Mitch back?”

“No. He’d already met Evan by then, but that’s okay. Evan is perfect for him. They’re happy and life goes on. Any other questions?”

“Yeah. Why did you tell that little girl you have a crush on me?”

“ ’Cause I do. And the awesome part is, I know you have one on me. Even if you didn’t, I’d still like you. You’re a cool dude dork. Irresistible combo for me. You’re like Clark Kent before he turns in to Superman. If you wore glasses too, I’d be a fuckin’ wreck. I betcha I’d walk around with a boner twenty-four seven.”

“God, I’ve been thinking the same thing about you for weeks.” I winced the second the words left my mouth. “I mean…’cause you’re so smart. Glasses would be a sexy addition. Hot guy with tats and glasses. Geez, just don’t tell me you want me to change into one of those wrestler singlet things. I’m half-hard already.”

Rory barked a quick laugh and gave me a salacious once-over, lingering on my crotch before making eye contact.

“Since I kinda like my job here, I’m not gonna touch you. Okay…just one little…” He cupped my balls through my workout shorts, then stepped back nonchalantly. He snickered like a kid when I swatted him away and clandestinely adjusted myself.

“Not funny,” I hissed.

“Sure, it is.” He raised his hands in surrender and sobered. “I know it’s not easy, but try not to worry about what everyone thinks, baby.”

“I’m assuming you’re not talking about touching my junk in public.”

“No. I’m talking about letting a kid know I’m gay. I know how it feels to care what everyone else thinks. I used to care way too fucking much. But it’s a lot of work, and if you apply simple mathematics, you begin to realize the return ain’t worth it.”

“Huh?”

Rory squinted, then pointed at my chest. “Nobody is as invested in your life as you. Period. Not your mom, your dad, or best fuckin’ friend. Nobody else walks in your shoes or sees through your eyes or feels what you do. Even when they want to, they can’t. So why should I care if Joey’s mommy and daddy are pissed I told their kid I’m gay? I’m not teaching sex ed here. I’m stating a fact. My eyes are blue, the sky is blue, the locker room smells like dirty gym socks.…I’m bi. I said gay instead of bi to avoid a lengthy discussion with an eight-year-old, but the way I see it is, I told the truth. Nothing fancy about it. No hidden agenda. I’m not starting a club and recruiting new members. I’m only keeping it real for myself.”

I held his stare. Sure, I agreed with the sentiment and I respected his viewpoint. But I didn’t want to engage in a “coming-out” conversation when all I could say was, “I’m scared,” or “I’m not ready.” It sounded cowardly and weak. I thought I was better than that, but maybe I wasn’t.

I gestured toward the mats when I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“So what are we doing here?”

“Wrestling, remember?”

“Um…I don’t wrestle. And even if I did, neither of us is dressed for it.”

Rory’s gaze roamed over my basic black workout shorts and white tee. He lingered on my crotch for a moment, then glanced down at his similar ensemble with a grin. His shorts were dark gray, but his shirt matched his eyes and—fuck, he was sexy.

“We aren’t doing anything crazy. I might cop a feel, but I promise I won’t yank your shorts down.” He paused before adding, “Unless you want me to.”

I hooked my thumb toward the occupied machines. “I do, but we aren’t alone. Why don’t we lift weights or jump on a treadmill?”

“ ’Cause that’s boring.”

“And wrestling isn’t?”

Rory gasped theatrically. “Spoken like a true football snob.”

I chuckled. “I’m not a football snob. Well, maybe a little, but I like other sports too.”

“Name your top five.”

“Football, baseball, hockey, basketball, and soccer. What about you?”

“Wrestling, boxing, tennis, curling—what are you laughin’ at?” he asked with a faux scowl.

“No one says curling.”

“Well, they should. It’s awesome.”

“Pushing a rock on ice is slightly less than awesome,” I snarked.

“Hmph. Some might say the same about throwing a ball up a field and getting tackled,” he countered.

“Millions of fans would disagree with your sarcasm.”

Rory huffed. “Yeah, well, just because something is popular doesn’t make it good.”

I gasped in faux outrage. “I’m sorry, did you bring me here to trash my sport?”

“No, I wanted an excuse to roll around on top of you,” he deadpanned. “And I think we should place a side bet to see who gets hard first.” He held up his forefinger and grinned. “Let’s make this interesting. Whoever pops a boner first has to do whatever the winner says.”

“No way. I’ll be the one who gets arrested for public indecency and that will not be my ‘coming-out’ story,” I assured him haughtily.

“When the time comes, I can’t wait to hear your story. But don’t worry…I expect better than an X-rated wrestling match. We’ll be discreet. When I win, I won’t jump up and down and point at the flagpole between your legs.” He winked before clapping and taking a step backward. “You ready?”

“Okay, but what are the rules?” I squatted with my hands on my knees the way I might if I was at the line of scrimmage on a football field waiting for the ref to blow the whistle.

“My boy likes rules,” Rory said with a grin.

I lifted an eyebrow in amusement. “Your boy?”

“Yeah. You’re mine. Don’t argue.”

I held his gaze for a long moment and then smiled. “Okay.”

“The first person to pin their opponent to the mat is the winner. In a real match, you can earn points for either taking me down or escaping my hold if I take you down first. And not to get too technical here, but there are penalty points too. Same idea as football. No unnecessary roughness, no grabbing clothes, leaving the mat, delaying the match. It’s all pretty standard.”

I straightened and gave him a serious look. “Got it, but you have to watch out for my shoulder and don’t touch my right hand. You’re strong and I can’t get hurt.”

“Christian, I’m not going to hurt you. That’s not the idea. It’s exercise. Energy release. It might not be your way, but I wanted to show you this because it’s always helped me.”

“How?”

“I can tell you’re stalling again, but I’ll play along,” Rory said with an exaggerated sigh. “I had ADHD and probably a few other things that didn’t get picked up when I was a kid…food allergies, social anxiety, and I couldn’t sit still. You name it, I had it. A doctor eventually prescribed drugs that were supposed to help my concentration. The medication sort of worked, but it was expensive and when my mom couldn’t afford it anymore, one of the counselors here suggested diet and exercise changes. Justin and I were regulars at the after-school program already. They knew us pretty well, and no one was surprised I didn’t do as well at team sports. In a weird way, I’m a perfectionist and I couldn’t handle not being in charge.” Rory paused and gave me a quirky grin. “Kinda like you.”

“Ha. Ha. So that’s when you found wrestling?”

“Yeah. Not immediately. I tried karate, boxing, tennis, but I liked wrestling best. There was a class here every day, and wait for it…I had a wicked crush on one of the student instructors,” Rory admitted with a laugh.

I smiled. “How old were you?”

“Fourteen, I think. His name was Nelson. He was tall but kinda thick with brown hair, brown eyes. He wasn’t super hot or anything, but he was nice and very patient.”

“Was he your first boyfriend?”

“No. He was straight as an arrow. It was a completely platonic relationship.” Rory squinted and gave me a funny look. “And now I have no idea why I told you all that. Probably ’cause you’re always asking me personal questions.”

“I am not!”

“Sure you do. Which was your first tattoo? Are you gonna pierce your cock? What are you making for dinner tonight? Geez, it’s like I’m under a magnifying glass,” he griped good-naturedly.

I threw my head back and laughed hard enough to attract a few curious glances. “Those are not personal questions. Well, maybe the piercing one is, but…” I furrowed my brow and set my hands on my hips. “Are you really going to pierce your dick?”

“Fuck, no!” He snorted. “But that’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“Honestly, I don’t remember. I was going for a correlation between our sports. Offense versus defense. A quarterback plays the lead offensive position in football. You’re almost never on defense. In wrestling, you’re on your own, just like in real life. You’ve got to play both sides all the time. And correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems to me that you play offense on the field and defense in real life.” Rory paused to gauge my reaction to his very astute observation. When I didn’t argue, he continued. “In wrestling, you fight like crazy to get some asshole off of you and the next, you’re on top. Your opponent knows without seeing your face that you call the shots. He can feel your strength and energy and he can probably feel your dick too.”

“Nice visual,” I replied sarcastically.

“I know, right? Maybe that didn’t make sense. Let me show you.” He pointed at the opposite corner of the mat. “You stand over there. We start in neutral across from each other, one foot on the mat, the other off. That’s right. The idea is to stay in bounds or for our purposes, on the mats. There’s a host of basic rules, but let’s stick with common-courtesy ones. No scratching, pulling hair or clothes, or biting.”

“I can’t bite you?”

“No, wise guy. And remember…offense. Ready?”

I nodded and took a step forward just as Rory charged at me. He picked me up around my middle and flattened his chest over mine. He pulled my arms above my head, then leaned down and bit my bottom lip. “I win.”

I curled my legs around his upper right thigh and tilted my hips so my half-hard prick grazed against his as I shifted my weight. I hoped to throw him off guard and use momentum to topple him sideways, but he was too big. And honestly, I loved the feel of his weight on me.

I should have been mortified at my body’s traitorous response to him. I didn’t care who was watching. I wanted him to yank my shorts down and drive his cock inside me. I wondered if there was a way to fuck in the corner of a gym while everyone else went on with their conversations, completely oblivious to the live porn unfolding on the mat. It would be like something from a perverted dream. Me and the coach, the tutor, my tattooed wrestling opponent with the sexy smile and the beautiful eyes.

“Damn, I want you to fuck me, Rory,” I whispered, licking the shell of his ear.

He gave me a puzzled look as he rose above me, holding my wrists to keep me still. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking this is hot. I can feel your cock through your shorts. I want to slip my hand inside and squeeze your balls and—”

Rory set his hand over my mouth and widened his eyes comically. “Whatever you’re doing, stop.”

I lowered my eyelashes and went completely still in a gesture I hoped he read as contrite. The second he pulled his hand away, I bit the side of his palm and shoved his chest hard and pounced. The element of surprise gave me the advantage. When he fell sideways, I dove on top of him and sealed my mouth over his. This was a bigger deal than he probably guessed. I’d never kissed a man in a public space that wasn’t completely LGBTQ-friendly. Ever.

I licked his lips and slid my tongue inside, threading my fingers through his hair as I deepened the connection. Then I smacked the mat underneath him three times before breaking the kiss with a grin.

“I won.” I taunted.

Rory snorted in amusement and pushed me. I sat beside him with a big-ass smile on my face, knitting my legs together to hide my erection.

“You’re a sneaky brat and you know I can’t retaliate, or I’ll end up fucking you on this mat.”

I waggled my eyebrows. “So admit it…I won. Go on. Say the words. ‘Nice job, Christian. You kicked my ass.’ ”

“Ha. You cheated and basically racked up a shit-ton of penalty points. If this was a real match—”

“I would have won,” I intercepted, nudging his shoulder playfully.

“You would have been disqualified. In a football game, you’d have been ejected.”

“Ejaculated?”

Rory shot a stern look at me. “Whatsa matter with you? You look drunk or high or something.”

I snickered. “Nope. I’m just happy ’cause I—”

“You did not win so don’t say it.” He glowered as he shifted to stand. “Come on. Let’s try it again.”

I pulled his elbow so he fell beside me. “That’s not what I was going to say. Did you notice that I kissed you? In public.”

Rory cocked his head and squinted before turning toward the other patrons on the far end of the room. “This barely qualifies as ‘public.’ And what’s up with you anyway? One second you’re freaked out that I told a kid I’m gay and the next, you turn into a sex fiend in front of the treadmill crew.”

I chuckled appreciatively and leaned back, bracing my weight on my hands as I took in his handsome profile. “Sorry. I guess I got carried away.”

“Don’t apologize. It feels good out of that closet, doesn’t it?” When I opened my mouth to reply, he set his finger over my lips. Then he hopped to his feet and extended his right hand to help me up. “That was a rhetorical question. No answer required.”

“Evan invited me to his house for the barbeque he told you about this weekend,” I blurted. “He suggested we go together and…let’s do it. Do you want to go with me?”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

I pursed my lips and nodded. “I am. We don’t have to hold hands or anything crazy, but maybe that’s okay too. I’m just willing to try…if you’re cool with it.”

Rory looked like he was waiting for a punch line. His mouth was set and his eyes didn’t give anything away. After twenty minutes…or two seconds, he inclined his head and grinned.

“I’m cool with it.”

I snickered at the funny face he made, and when it bubbled into something that felt like joyful release, I let go and laughed aloud. A date. I hadn’t planned on that at all. But it suddenly seemed like a great idea. Evan and Mitch’s friends were mostly recent graduates from Long Beach State, and they were a very gay-friendly crowd. We didn’t have to make any grand announcements. We didn’t have to say a word. But if he stood a little closer than usual and set his hand on my lower back, the way he sometimes did when no one was looking, I wouldn’t pull away. Not this time.