Page 76 of Racing Hearts

“I do,” I admit. “More than anything, I want to know what you feel like. I can’t stop imagining you under me.”

Leaning down, I trust in him as I kiss down his face to his neck. He turns to give me better access, sighing slightly, and I blame it on that. I blame being so lost in him and this new desire that I don’t hear it at first.

“What the fuck?” The shout jerks me upright, my eyes widening as I glance at the door to see most of the football team watching me kiss their quarterback.

I look back at Matty, and he meets my gaze. I see fear and confusion there when his eyes were clear moments ago. His expression turns mean, which isn’t something I’ve seen before.

Matty’s eyes widen as he glances at the door and the crowd. “You see this shit? He forced himself on me. He was saying all kinds of messed up stuff.” He pushes me off him, scrambling away as he glares at me. “He’s so fucking gay. You were right. That’s why he kept looking at me. Can you believe it?”

“What?” I sit up, confused as I stare at them. “Matty?—”

“Don’t say my name, you faggot,” he spits as he straightens his designer shirt. “You disgust me. I can’t believe you thought we were friends. We just had to be sure. I guess you’re so desperate for anyone to like you that you thought we actually wanted you here tonight.”

“You tried to force Matty?” Terrance, the linebacker, cracks his knuckles as he heads into the room, the rest of the team following, kicking the door shut behind them. “Let’s beat the gay out of you, Anders.”

I leap from the bed, but they surround me. There are so many of them, I don’t stand a chance. I’m on the floor before I know it, curling up to protect my head, but the pain is constant as they slam their boots into me. I feel my cheek split, my lip burst open, and my head ring with the hits. Something inside feels wrong, broken, and I want to scream as the beating continues.

Is this how I’ll die?

It feels like it. The pain is so intense, I can barely see, but they suddenly stop. “Shit, are those cops?” one of them calls.

Groaning, I try to sit up, but my arm slips in my blood and I hit the floor hard, the sharp pain making me cry out.

“Maybe, but I don’t care, I’m going to kill the gay boy first,” Terrance snaps. He will kill me simply for being this.

Banging downstairs distracts him for a moment, and I force myself upright despite the agony around my body, the cracked or broken ribs making it hard to breathe, then I turn to the second story window and throw myself out of it. If I stay, I’m dead. I hit the ground hard, almost crying from the pain, but I swallow it back as other partygoers rush across the lawn and to their cars to escape the cops.

I run because I have no other option. The cops won’t care, nobody will. When I glance back, I see Matty in the window with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he calls.

Ignoring him, I run as hard as I can, trying to outpace what happened tonight.

By the time I make it home, I’m limping and in agony. I know my face is a mess, and there’s blood all over my shirt. I just hope everyone is asleep, but as I slip in the back door, I know I’m unlucky. My father is on the sofa, beer in hand, watching some game reruns.

He hears the door open and glances over, blinking as he leaps to his feet and rushes over. Concern and anger gleam in his eyes—probably because he wasn’t the one who put the bruises there.

“What the hell happened to you?” my father rages, turning my face to see the bruises and blood. “Jesus, Alek, you let yourself get beat up like this? Why didn’t you kick their ass?”

“There were too many of them,” I snap, yanking my face from his grip, but I freeze when he slams me back against the wall, his arm across my throat.

“Did you just talk back to me, boy?”

“No, sir,” I force out, biting back the tears that want to fall. I’ve had a shitty night. Can’t he just let it go for once?

“You better not have.” He steps away, grabbing his beer as he looks at the TV once more. “Wash up and avoid your mom and sister for a few days. They don’t need to see you like that.”

He stands at the back of the couch, dismissing me. Usually, I would hurry away, glad that’s the end of it, but tonight, I push from the wall and try my luck. Something inside me needs to have his eyes on me and for him to know the truth, even though I know it’s a bad idea.

I am just so tired of hiding and figuring this out alone.

Maybe he can help.

As I force the words out, it’s my hope that I won’t have to go through this alone. That, despite his anger, he’ll support me as his son, love me, and give me guidance when I feel like I’m a boat without an anchor.

“I’m gay. They beat me because I’m gay,” I snap, but he doesn’t even look at me, and my heart sinks, but I don’t back down now. I’m so very fucking tired and alone. “Dad, did you hear me?”

“You’re wrong.” He finally looks at me, and my whole world shrinks when I see his expression. “No son of mine is gay. You’re just young and stupid. You’ll find a nice girl and settle down.”

“And if I don’t?” I spit.

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