Chapter Two
Dakota
Same song, different verse—I didn’t like this school. I didn’t like these people. I didn’t fit in. Fuck, I was so pathetic. If I didn’t need an education so damned bad, I would tell every one of these arrogant asses to go fuck themselves. Actually, I wouldn’t because I’m too damned shy and skittish. At least that was the person Evan had turned me into.
Evan. The fucking reason I was trapped at this fucking school. I could still be enrolled in Texas, among friends, family, and things I was familiar with, if I hadn’t allowed myself to be fooled by Evan’s twinkling eyes and rock-hard muscles. Never again. I was done with men sugarcoated with bulging muscles and intoxicating tattoos. Finished. I would not allow myself to be led down that dirty path again. I was here to get my diploma and hopefully walk away from all the shittiness that accompanied college.
At one point, I’d dreamed of being an Olympic swimmer, competing against the best to the roar of the crowds. My mom would glow with pride as she watched me stand on the podium and represent the best-damned country in the world. The world would accept that I was gay and wouldn’t try to rip me apart for being what they considered different. I’d find a man that could love me without shame and we’d live happily ever after with the whole two dogs, three cats, white picket fence, and, of course, a boy and a girl to make our family complete.
Those had been the dreams of a naïve fool, though. In reality, there wouldn’t be any Olympic gold medal to wear around my neck and I sure as hell wouldn’t find the perfect person to complete my perfectly foolish dream life. My mother, God bless her, would beam with pride no matter how little I accomplished in my life. She’d been the rock by my side since my father had walked out on us when I’d been nine years old. Hell, I wanted to be the man she saw when she looked at me with a mother’s eye, but I knew that wasn’t possible. I’d tossed those chances right out the door when I’d gotten myself involved in the shitshow in Texas that had nearly brought down the entire athletics department—not to mention the damage it had done to my soul.
No matter. Five months. I only had to survive five more months of this torture and I could find a decent job where I could support mom and me somewhere far, far away from Texas and Evan. Five months. I could do this.
Shouts and hoorays caught my attention and I twisted around to see what was causing the commotion. Fuck…it was him. The exact fucking replica of Evan but right here in my hideaway—sweet home fucking Alabama.
Five months. I couldn’t do it.
I dove into the pool to avoid having to even look in his direction, much less catch that magnetic scent that called out to me like my very own bottled aphrodisiac. As I sliced through the water, I tried to determine what games the Neanderthal was playing. Was he friends with Evan? Those football players all stuck together, didn’t they? Didn’t matter what school or conference, they apparently stood side by side against the gay guy. Was Evan putting him up to this? Was it going to be a repeat performance of Texas? Could I survive it again?
No, Evan didn’t know where I was…did he? He couldn’t know where I was. The thought that he might know terrified me. No, Detective Humphreys would tell me if Evan had left Texas—my secret was safe. Was Trystan capable of being as evil as Evan had been?
Tucking my body and then kicking against the wall, I swam back across the length of the pool. My mind was racing with fear, anger, and confusion. Why? Why me? I minded my own business. I’d done absolutely nothing to gain unwanted attention and yet…here the fuck it was. Tuck and kick the wall.
Trystan being here was more than a coincidence. He showed up everywhere—in places I knew he wouldn’t normally be caught dead at. Trystan Matherly was the big man on campus at Alabama Temple. He was the Heisman winner and had played a key role in bringing the first National Championship to the school. From the whispers I’d overheard, because I didn’t ask the first damned question about him, he was friendly and popular, beloved by all on campus. Stupid fuckers. They had no idea what guys like Trystan and Evan were capable of when backed against the wall or staring down the ugly face of peer pressure.
I knew, though. I damned well knew. I was the fucking poster child for what could go wrong…what they were capable of.
I wasn’t going to do it again. Whatever he and Evan had planned for me, it wasn’t going to happen. I would not allow myself to be put in such a stupid-ass position again. Thankfully, Evan had destroyed my heart, so it wouldn’t be too hard to play the ice-cold bitch.
Just don’t allow yourself to be caught alone. Unprotected. Defenseless. Stay in crowds.
Tuck and kick the wall.
Don’t fucking imagine how hot his muscles looked as they rippled and moved beneath his skin tight T-shirts. His ass didn’t look that good encased in those butter thin jeans with holes ripped in them in the most strategic of places. His smile was fake. The twinkle in his eyes was there solely because he was planning to hurt me and thought I was going to be easy prey for him.
Tuck and kick the wall.
I wasn’t the weak little gay boy that always fell for the wrong football player. Why the hell was I attracted to the wrong men? Every. Damned. Time. Why did my eyes stray to their muscles and my mind wonder how wonderful it would feel to be dominated by their massive strength?
Tuck and kick the wall.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I could hear the coach’s whistle trying to penetrate the safety of the water. Again and again. My lungs were about to explode. My arms ached and legs felt shaky. I’d already survived my second two-hour practice of the day so pushing myself this hard was not only ridiculous but unsafe, as well.
With a sigh of defeat, I raised my head above water and reached for the side of the pool.
“Dakota! I know you hear this damned whistle under the water!” Coach was screaming at me. Perfect, draw more attention to yourself, dumbass.
I easily lifted my body out of the pool and yanked my goggles off. To say I wasn’t in the mood would be putting it mildly. “Sorry,” I mumbled in his direction as I grabbed a towel and started scrubbing my head. I tensed when I felt him right behind me and it was all I could do not to run in the opposite direction. I don’t like people getting near me—not any more.
“Listen, kid, you need to be more careful. That was more laps than you needed without coming up for air. I was watching you.”
When I turned to look at the coach, I was instantly ashamed by the pity I saw in his eyes. He knew. Of course, he knew. He had agreed to allow me to join his team for the last seven months of school. An absolutely useless swimmer on a swimming team. Taking up space. Hiding. He’d survived me being here for two months already. Surely he could handle five more months of this shit side of fun?
“I’m good,” I answered quietly. “Sorry,” I tried again. I wasn’t sorry. Wait, yes I was. I was sorry that I’d come up for air. How much longer would it have taken? It could have all been over if I’d stayed down for just a few more minutes. Seconds, maybe. I felt safe in the water. It would be a peaceful way to go. Don’t think I hadn’t thought about it. There were times when it was all I thought about.
“You’re lying to me, son. I don’t like that,” he growled. Raking his fingers through what was left of his hair, he said, “Hit the showers, Dakota. Don’t push yourself or me like that again.”
With that, he turned and walked away, shaking his head. I knew the poor man would be so happy to see me go. I had to be some kind of albatross hanging around his neck—a ticking time bomb waiting to explode and destroy another school and community. I still couldn’t believe he allowed me on the team.
Hanging my head, I silently wondered if my life could possibly get any worse before I finally hit what would be considered rock-bottom.
“Hey, Guppy! Looking good out there!” A loud voice boomed from only a few feet away from me.
Why, hell, yes, apparently, it could get much worse.
I’d been hoping his royal highness had finished holding court while I’d been trying to drown myself, no such luck.
I’d never felt more naked in my speedos than I did with him so near to me. I searched frantically for my gym bag where I knew I had a pair of sweats I could easily slide into. Sweats would make it more of an even fighting field, right? Speedos? Not so even.
Where in the fuck was that damned gym bag?
“Looking for this, Guppy?” The husky voice asked again. He’d moved even closer…close enough for his scent to start to tickle my nose.
I whipped around to find him holding up my gym bag, grinning like a total fucking fool. He waved it in front of me and the guy with him turned and looked at him like he was a total idiot. Ah, that was Alexander Bryant. Yeah, I’d seen the pictures. I was not a perv, they were just everywhere on campus. It was hard not to look.
Everybody had seen the pictures, right?
Alexander and his lover plastered all over campus. Alexander and his male lover plastered all over campus. Why was he with Trystan? Surely another gay guy wouldn’t join in with my massacre, would he? There had to be loyalty somewhere in this world.
The look on Alexander’s face spoke volumes. He was looking at Trystan like he wasn’t the least bit afraid of him. Seconds later, he proved he wasn’t intimidated when he snatched the gym bag from Trystan’s hand and handed it over to me. I took it and started searching frantically for the sweats I’d tucked in there.
“Please tell me you didn’t just call him a guppy,” Alexander growled at Trystan as I slid into the sweats.
Trystan’s eyes never left my body as I covered up. Disappointment flashed in his gray eyes when the revealing speedos disappeared and were replaced with slouchy sweats. I felt better already. Not good, but better. Not safe, but safer.
“Sure I called him a guppy,” Trystan answered like Alexander had asked a ridiculous question. “He swims. Guppies swim. It’s cute, right?” He wiggled his eyebrows and added, “I’m sure Lincoln has a nickname for you, doesn’t he?”
Alexander rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it’s quarterback—not some kind of rodent!”
Thankfully, I was pulling a T-shirt over my head or they might have seen me smile at Alexander’s exasperated tone. He sounded like he was trying to deal with a sixth grader.
“A guppy isn’t a rodent, you dumbass. It’s a fish. I thought you were smart,” Trystan said with a shake of his head. “Anyway, it’s cute. I like calling him Guppy.”
If I wasn’t terrified of what the bigger man had planned for me, I would like it, too. As it was, I didn’t like it—not even a little. Well, maybe a little. Shit! See, that was my problem. I fucking knew better and I still did it. I still allowed myself to be attracted to very unattractive people.
“It’s only cute when you both agree to it, Tank.” Alexander turned to me and the look of pure happiness and peace on his face nearly floored me. I could easily like this guy, if he didn’t hang around with such unsavory characters. “Hey, I’m Alexander.” He stuck out his hand and I stared at it—like an idiot. “This dumbass is Trystan.” He politely pulled his hand back in without commenting on me not offering to return his friendly gesture. “Clearly we don’t allow him out in public often. I apologize in advance for all the shit he’s going to say wrong—like guppy.” Tucking his good hand into the pocket of his jeans, he looked at me, tilted his head like he was trying to figure me the fuck out, and then took an interest in the soaking floor around the pool’s edge.
The big guy kept staring though. From the arrogant grin on his handsome face, he hadn’t been at all affected by Alexander’s comments. “You think it’s cute, right? I mean, how could you not?”
I finally found my tongue and backbone. The Aquatic Center was still busy with activity, so I felt fairly safe and probably a bit more brazen than I had the right to feel. “How could I not?” I asked quietly. “I don’t think anything about you is cute. I don’t think it’s cute that you’re stalking me and I don’t think it’s cute that you’re calling me ridiculous names and I definitely don’t think it’s cute when you’re eye-fucking me in front of an audience!”
There. Take that.
I glanced around nervously to ensure the crowd hadn’t miraculously disappeared. Nope, still safe. When Trystan Matherly tried to counter my verbal assault, he would be forced to keep the battle in verbal form. Wouldn’t he?
He took a step in my direction and I was sure I did something ridiculous like gulp nervously.
“So, what I’m hearing is that you would rather I eye-fuck you in private,” he whispered in a voice that succeeded in sending chills up and down my spine and the majority of my blood straight to my cock. I’d never been more thankful for loose-fitting sweats in my entire life.
“No!” I sputtered in outrage. “That’s not at all what I’m saying.” I flung my gym bag over my shoulder and slid my feet into my flip flops. “I want you to leave me alone, Trystan. Stop following me. Stop showing up in places where you don’t belong. Don’t come back here and don’t try to talk to me again.”
My entire body was begging me to stay right where I was, to enjoy his heat and delicious scent. My mind screamed for me to run straight for the locker room and hide inside a stinky locker until I knew he was miles away from me. I settled for a stiff walk toward the locker room. I’d only taken two steps when I heard Alexander’s voice.
“Well, that went well, Trystan. Good job impressing him.”
I shortened the length of my steps so I could hear Trystan’s reply without looking too obvious, and then nearly stumbled when I heard Trystan’s answer, “He knows my name.”
“I just told him your name, idiot,” Alexander countered.
“Shut up, Alex, just let me have this one, okay? He knows my name. I think he’s interested.”
Well, fuck.