Page 78 of His Hungry Wolf

On top of that, I enjoyed helping players figure things out. I liked being a part of a team. I didn’t have the build to withstand a 200 lb man running at me at full speed. But I could come up with plays that helped players win the game.

Football and I were the perfect combination. What started out as a way to prove something to my father turned into something I liked doing. But that didn’t take away the pain that got me into it. Rejection hurt, whether it was from Papa, the guys on the team, or my best friend.

I wanted to be with Claude. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. But what I wanted more was for him not to leave me again. And if I had to choose, I would choose a guaranteed little of what I liked, over risking it all for what I truly wanted.

“Have you ever been to a pride festival?” I asked him over dinner that night.

“No. Why would I?” Claude asked sincerely.

“I don’t know. You can’t think of any reason?” I asked suggestively.

“I’m not gay,” Claude said defensively.

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You were implying it.”

“I was implying it because,” I stopped myself before reminding him of when he had his dick in my ass. “Why don’t you tell me what you are?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how do you identify?”

“I don’t.”

“Oh, are you one of those ‘I don’t believe in labels’ types?” I asked dismissively.

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“No. It’s fine. I just think it’s convenient. That’s all.”

“Convenient, how?”

“You know, if you don’t want to admit to who you are or be thought of as ‘one of those people’, you can just say, ‘I don’t believe in labels’. That way you get all of the benefits of the struggle without having to claim any of the bad stuff.”

“I see,” he said, trying to hide being upset.

This annoyed me.

“Okay, Claude, I know your whole thing is not talking about stuff, but let’s not right now.”

“We should probably leave,” he said, referring to the restaurant.

“No. We should stay here and talk about this.”

Claude stared into my eyes, withdrew cash, placed it on the table, and left. He was upset, so of course, I ran after him.

“So, you’re just gonna walk away?” I asked as I followed him down the street. “After everything that’s gone on between us, you still can’t have a simple conversation about how you feel about me?”

Claude swung around angrily.

“You know how I feel about you?”

“How? You never talk about it.”

“You know what we did. Do you think I just do that with anybody?”

“How would I know? You’ve never told me. You don’t tell me anything. ‘No labels’ isn’t just your identity. It’s your way of life.”

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