Page 18 of Coaching Prince Charming

Dear God, I was stupid. I was a silly boy with unrealistic dreams who had just gotten his first gut punch of adulthood.

I couldn’t fathom going up to my room, but I couldn’t sit in this silence anywhere in the house. I hurried upstairs to fetch my guitar, then walked into the basement to be alone and as close to hell as I could physically get on short notice. After I shut the door, I dropped into an armchair and plucked the strings without thinking. Of course, it had to be D minor. I wasn’t about to play myself a cheerful tune.

The notes poured out of my fingers with no planning or thought. They filled the room with their bitching and moaning, each chord poking me in my open, bleeding heart.

For a moment there, I had thought we’d found some common ground. I had thought we understood each other on a different level. I had thought, stupidly, that if I did this one surprising, daring thing, all the rewards would be mine. Ours. I wanted him to know he was safe with me. So you scared the shit out of him by kissing him, I snapped at myself internally. A fucking genius.

Would he tell Dad?

I dismissed that thought a moment later. If there were one thing I knew about Nate Partridge, he would keep his word. He had a code of honor of his own, and he would stick to it. What I’d done would remain between us.

The thought wasn’t comforting at all.

Every time we saw each other after tonight, we would both know what a foolish boy I was. Reminders would haunt me for the rest of my life.

If I could turn back time, I knew exactly where I would have taken a different direction. That morning when his phone betrayed him. I wouldn’t have searched for him. I wouldn’t have identified that anonymous profile on a hookup site for gay men. I wouldn’t have betrayed my knowledge to anyone, even Nate. And if I had superpowers, I would have erased it from my mind, too.

I was happiest when Nate Partridge was only a fantasy. Allowing myself to think that I could ever have a chance had cost me everything.

He’d tasted so good. In that single heartbeat, dreams sprang from my soul, possibilities spawned, and ideas took such a deep root in me that I couldn’t stop them from swirling around my head now.

I had been in love with him for over two years, but I’d barely seen him in that time. I had found him attractive for much longer than that. In fact, all my life, Nate Partridge was the ultimate man. He was the very definition of what a man should be. Friendly, caring, understanding, kind, firm, reliable. I could go on forever. All these things had tugged at me until the moment it dawned on me that he was the only person I wanted.

The hookups that had kept me busy in the meantime had only assured me more that I couldn’t heal my bruised heart by losing myself in other men. Not when the one I wished to worship was out there, as beautiful as ever.

My mournful ballad came to a sad end, and I wanted to throw the guitar away. It was just another stupid dream. I’d had no true talent or formal education. It was just a whim of a kid who didn’t know what rejection felt like until tonight. It was a waste of my time.

Ron pushed the door open. “Why did you stop? I was enjoying that.”

“Were you eavesdropping?” I asked flatly.

“Don’t bite my head off,” Ron said. “It’s not like you were admitting to a murder.”

No. I had been spilling my heart out instead.

“You have to try playing for a crowd, man,” he insisted, walking past me to grab a beer from the fridge.

“Is the party over?” I deflected.

“Wasn’t much of a party,” Ron replied, bringing me a can. “We had a round of drinks. Then, the captain of the Breakers picked up Avery. I think he’s holding him hostage.”

“They’re dating,” I said sulkily. Everyone in this goddamn house was dating. Almost all of them were dating guys, too.

“And so, my joke falls flat,” Ron said casually, cracking the can open. “Sawyer went away with Noah to watch a meteor shower, I think, and Caden whispered something to Beckett that made our captain leap from the table with a thirsty look on his face. Jordan’s mooning over Asher while Paxton watches. I figured I might as well head back here and see what held you back.”

I’m not telling you that, I thought and almost made myself chuckle. I kissed our coach, and it went about as well as you’d expect. Instead of saying anything, I pressed the can against my lips and took a long sip of beer.

“What’s bothering you, man?” he asked.

I shook my head and swallowed. “Nothing.”

He was quiet for a little while. Then, as if I wasn’t getting grilled enough, he returned to the earlier topic. “I found a bar off campus that has open-mic nights for bands, solos, and even karaoke.”

“Are you planning on singing?” I asked, playing dumb. Recent events told me I didn’t need to pretend too hard. I was as thick as it got.

“If you play us a song, I’ll happily get on that stage before you. To lower the expectations.” He gave a proud grin but returned to a more serious expression after a moment. “People should hear you play, man. You’ve got a crazy talent.”

I kept hearing that about a great many things, but I had never doubted myself more than I did tonight. What was the point of my talent if I always made all the wrong choices? “Are you sure you’re not crazy? I’m an amateur.”

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