Page 51 of Beautifully Conflicted

Damien

One step forward, two back.

Again.

Or is it two steps forward, one back? That feels more accurate since Bennet revealed some secrets in the locker room and then let me suck his cock—two steps forward. Although, since he still seems unwilling to admit how he feels when he isn’t delirious with fever, maybe we did take two steps backward.

I kick off my shoes, toss my keys on the kitchen counter, and flop onto the lumpy gray couch that came with the place. It’s surprisingly comfortable, which makes it the perfect place to mope.

Bennet’s freakout wasn’t entirely unexpected since we took things further this time. Given how cryptic he was about why he has to pretend to hate me, I suspect he might be a little confused after our blow-job incident. That, and he clearly doesn’t remember asking me to put his dick in my mouth, nor that he confesses wanting me… Still, I didn’t expect his confusion to take him all the way back to square one. I thought we’d at least be past the wholeI don’t like dicksthing and into themaybe I do sort of like dicksthing. Since we’re not, it makesme think the battle he’s waging inside is more complicated than how he identifies.

There was literal fear in his eyes when I said he should be honest with himself, almost as if he’s not confused about liking guys, but afraid of it. And I can’t wrap my head around why that could be. I mean, the guy lives with five gay men, so even though he’s not out, he’s got a support system that would be every queer person’s dream, yet he’s still afraid?

Reaching for the hacky sack on the coffee table, I start tossing it in the air above me as I try to dissect what Bennet could possibly be afraid of, but nothing comes to mind.

Acceptance may not be absolute, but it’s getting better all the time, so it seems unlikely Bennet would feel intimidated by any sort of social stigma. Being an athlete with a shot at going pro could complicate things since gay football players aren’t the norm, but I feel like that’s not enough to hold him back. Especially when it’s a changing world and people are coming out all the time. The NFL has to get on board with it eventually. I mean, at our college alone, there are several of us on the team who could help facilitate that change in the near future and I’d be shocked if we’re the only team in the country with queer players.

I suppose it could be a religious thing. Bennet did go to a private Christian academy for high school. He’s never given any indication thathe’sthe religious type, but that doesn’t mean others he loves and cares about don’t have strong opinions. Plus, being religious doesn’t inherently mean anti-gay, so I doubt he’d be living with five gay dudes if religion is the issue.

Did he have a bad experience with someone? My cousin was straight until she found herself in an abusive relationship, and when she broke free, she never looked at another man again. Maybe Bennet had a reallybad encounter with a guy and swore off the idea of being in a gay relationship afterward.

Oh shit—maybe he’s got like, PTSD over it, and freaks out because his mind tries to convince him I’m no different than the person who hurt him.

Damn. I hope that’s not it… Though, it makes a certain amount of sense if it is true. He’d probably be scared of a repeat situation and embarrassed to admit he was a victim. Not that he should be ashamed of that or anything, but if there’s one thing big strong athletes have in common, it’s that we don’t like to admit there are times when we aren’t big and strong. I don’t know if that gets coached into us, or if it stems from the competitive nature we all possess. Either way, it would explain why Bennet was so hesitant to tell me why he pretends to hate me.

Fuck… What if he is legit scared because of a past relationship, and I’ve been pushing the rizz at him hard? Am I hurting him mentally? Giving him flashbacks or some shit? God, I hope not. And physically? I’m, like, ninety percent sure I didn’t force him into anything, but I’ve been pretty persistent, so does that make me an asshole?

Yeah, our dynamic mainly consists of being assholes to each other—or rather, him trying to be one and me trying and failing not to be one—but I like to think of that as our love language. Now, I can’t help wondering if I’m way off base, and I’ve really been bullying him?

Wouldn’t be the first time I misread things.

My brain threatens to short circuit from all the what-ifs, and I miss the hacky sack, which lands squarely on my forehead.

Typical.

In the past, when I’ve missed something everyone else picked up on, and say or do the wrong thing, people just laugh like I’ve made a joke. Over the years, I learned to go with it since admitting I wasn’ttrying to be funny made me sound like an idiot, and most of time my confusion was harmless because, let’s be honest, guys aren’t the best at talking about serious stuff like feelings. Or at least, the guys at my last school weren’t.

The guys here are a little different. Aiden and Liam have both hinted at the complex relationship I have with Bennet, and even the man himself has given me glimpses of things that lie beneath the surface. I like how these guys are cool to talk about real things, but that makes it all the more important for me to read the situation correctly. It’s the only thing that will keep me from coming off as insensitive or mean. Especially with Bennet.

If I’m right, and something from his past has left him scarred about the thought of liking a man, I don’t want to inadvertently trigger him by pushing too hard. I mean, I’ll still probably push—I’ve seen enough evidence to suggest that I’m not off base about his interest—but I can be more subtle about it. More patient.

***

“We’re supposed to be pushing each other during these workouts,” Bennet says as we jog our traditional five-mile route at practice the next day.

“So?”

“So, you’re not recovering from the flu, meaning there’s no reason for you to keep the same pace I am.”

“Butyouare. And until you’re a hundred percent, I’m not leaving you behind.”

“I’ll be fine,” he huffs.

“You say that, but any moment now you could succumb to fever. You don’t know what’s in those woods. One minute you’re fainting on the side of the trail, the next, you’re getting picked apart by the raccoons.”

Bennet is quiet for a moment, side-eyeing me with a look that morphs into pure, unfiltered guilt. “I’d leave you.”

I snort. “No. I don’t think you would.”

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