Page 16 of Cleats and Pumps

Owen laughed so hard he cried. “You saying you aren’t a bottom, Tom boy?”

I shook my head. “I’m saying I don’t trust those straight fuckers, and you shouldn’t either.”

Owen smiled. “Well, don’t be too sensitive. You know they’re going to say shit that’s all wrong. We’re the ambassadors here.”

I just shook my head, but what was there to do? He was right. If we did this, the other guys in the fraternity were going to say stupid shit, and who knew what kind of weird things they’d try? But if they were really trying to be inclusive, they might be willing to learn. So, why the hell not?

As I’d guessed, rush was intense. I was only halfheartedly interested, which was the wrong attitude. The first day, I went to a “get to know you” party with Owen. He was lively and excited to be there, cutting up with the other guys while I stayed in the background observing, looking for the homophobes who would likely make my life a living hell if I joined.

I’d come out when I was freaking fourteen. Not really on purpose. I’d flirted with a football player who was into me, but when his buddies caught him saying something about my ass, he turned on me and announced that I’d come on to him.

Fuck, that had made life miserable, especially since I’d grown up south of Houston in a small town that had yet to come into the twenty-first century. No matter, I was tough. I’d learned to be, since I grew up with my grandmother and her flower children hippy parents. My mom was a total drug addict, and my dad had been MIA since I was born. In that situation, you develop a thick skin early on.

I was lucky, though—my grandpa was a boxer in his youth, growing up north of Mexico City. He taught me how to defend myself, so after the jock outed me and more than a couple of guys decided I’d make a good punching bag, I demonstrated that I had a pretty good left hook.

They called me every name in the book in high school, but no one tried to fight me after that.

Although I survived and looked back on high school in a positive light, I had no interest in repeating it through college. I’d planned to move anywhere but Texas after graduation, but after my grandpa fell and broke his hip, I decided I’d better stickclose. The people I loved the most were all in their later years. I wanted to be as close as possible, knowing my time with them was limited.

When UT Austin gave me a full ride based on my academics, I accepted and had met Owen over the summer while visiting. He was out and proud, but he was also drop-dead gorgeous, unlike me, who was shorter than him and... well, I had accepted, long ago, I was rugged, not pretty.

I glanced over at my buddy and sighed. I couldn’t say Owen tripped my trigger. Bless his heart, he was every man’s wet dream… everyone but me. I liked big, thick men. Not unlike the football player who’d outed me in high school. If I was going to waste time on a guy, I wanted him, as my grandma used to say when talking about a hunky man, to melt my butter.

So Owen had convinced me to rush.God, why? Why did I let people talk me into shit?I followed him as we entered, and he immediately deserted me. “Fuck you, Owen,” I whispered.

I was just about to chase him down and tell him to screw off when my eyes landed onthehunk as he swaggered into the frat house. The first night of rush and my butter was certainly melted. I had to swallow repeatedly to get the drool to go down before it leaked out of my mouth, making me look like some old cartoon my grandma used to put into her ancient DVD player when I was little. “Damn,” I whispered and thought how much I’d like to get to know him.

I wouldn’t be leaving now, not when I could stare at that piece of man candy. Sexy jock was everything I was attracted to. He had to be over six-three, maybe six-five, with dark mahogany skin, and his hair was wild on top of his head, making me want to know what it felt like to run my fingers through it. He was huge, his body screamed football player, and damn if I didn’t want to know what it felt like to climb him and… whoa, whoa! Lustingover your potential fraternity brother was not a good idea. So not a good idea.

Again, I decided to leave before it became a repeat of high school. Then the Adonis smiled at me. “Hey, I’m Amos Clark,” he said, after walking over to where I stood. The melted butter crackled under the heat, and the front of my jeans grew too tight for comfort.

Owen saved my ass by coming up behind me and introducing himself, giving me time to realign my molecules, as well as the front of my pants.

“Tommy Sanders,” I finally managed to say, and the hunk’s smile brightened, causing the tightness to return.

Owen and Amos talked to each other the entire evening while I followed them around like a puppy. I even had a wet spot on my shirt. Of course, it was metaphysical more than real since I’d spilled my drink when Amos asked me a question.

After we left the party, we headed over to where the fraternities were having some live music festival thing. When we were all seated and listening to the music, Owen asked, “So, you’re thinking about joining the same fraternity. What made you choose it?” he asked.

“I want to pledge a fraternity that’s more open-minded,” Amos said. “They’re supposed to be more inclusive.”

“You’re gay?” I asked, then blushed at my obvious crush.

He chuckled. “I’m not anything yet, at least, I’m not sure, but my brother is gay and out.”

I nodded understandingly. He was still in the closet or confused. The same damn story of my high school life, and I sighed. I should have excused myself and gotten away from the hunk before it was too late, but he flashed me that beautiful smile again, which was dynamic enough that I stayed firmly seated.

“But,” he said, “you know, being in an inclusive environment makes it a lot easier to figure things out, don’t you think?” Then he winked at me.

It took me a moment to settle down after that, but when I finally did, I smiled back at him. “Yeah, I think it would.”

The rest of rush, I paid more attention to being accepted. I’m naturally personable, thanks to grandparents who forced me into social situations early in life. I also liked people—even fraternity people, although I was definitely prejudiced.

After meeting some of the older guys, though, I quickly understood why the fraternity was different. One of the seniors was totally out, and since he was really popular, he’d convinced the group to open its doors to the gay community.

Several guys were still uncomfortable, but they lost their negativity when their girlfriends met us and fawned over us like a bunch of cuddly animals.

As it happened, Amos, Owen, and I all got bids to join.

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