Page 69 of Matched By My Rival
Darnell looked skeptical. “Even smart guys like Simon let their dick talk them into stupid things sometimes.”
So many things flew through my head, and what came out was idiotic. “I wouldn’t know anything about Simon’s dick.”
Did I sound defensive? I was a terrible liar at the best of times. Hell, Darnell hadn’t even asked me any questions to elicit this response. I felt as if my face was transmitting every dirty thing Simon and I did that weekend. Thank fuck we hadn’t gotten it on in the car. I’d never be able to hide the guilt.
“We’re gonna be late for training,” I said as Darnell looked at me like I was mid-seizure or something.
He tossed his fucking black light—and why did he even have one of those?—onto his backseat and closed the door. “Yeah, all right. No wonder the guys call you Coach’s pet.”
I rolled my eyes. “Kiss my ass.”
“Man, I ain’t going near that bubble butt. I’m not gay.”
“What?” My heart lurched. Was Darnell onto me? Was he suggesting I was hitting on him, because—
He burst out laughing. “Your face. Dude, learn to take a joke.”
“Seriously? That’s not funny.” I shook my head. “Being gay isn’t a joke or an insult, D.”
“Uh…sorry. I didn’t mean it was abadthing. It’s just not my thing, is all.”
That didn’t reassure me a whole lot.
I was too raw over my feelings for Simon for my usual restraint. “We all need to get over this bullshit homophobic stuff, you know? There’s a big LGBT population on campus. What if someone heard the shit some of the guys say? Can you imagine how that might hurt?”
Darnell was quiet, and I worried I’d tipped my hand too far. We walked side by side, shoulders brushing occasionally because of the narrow sidewalks, without exchanging a word. As we neared the athletic training center, which contained the gym where we worked out, Darnell cleared his throat.
“Sorry, man. I was trying to kid around, but it was bad form. I can tell the guys to cut it out too.”
I shook my head. “It’s fine. Whatever.”
As fast as I’d gotten fired up, I deflated. I knew Darnell was a good guy and probably didn’t intend any harm. Today, I just couldn’t deal with the homophobic nature of the jokes that bounced around our locker room all too often.
I was a tangle of emotions, amazed by Simon and equally afraid that the real world would never end in a happily ever after for us. Darnell was a decent guy, and he hadn’t meant harm, but these jokes had a way of cutting me. Shallow cuts at first, then deeper and deeper. Sometimes it stung, sometimes it bled.
Worst of all, sometimes I was so numb to it, I didn’t feel it at all.
I tried to shake off the feeling as we went through our workouts. I pushed myself hard, until my muscles burned and my legs felt like jelly afterward. Martinez had to step in and tell me to ease up, which was not par for the course. Usually, he was the sadistic one ordering me to work harder.
Afterward, I wolfed a quick breakfast and went to my classes, but an unsettled feeling continued to plague me. It wasn’t just Darnell’s comments or the knowledge that locker room culture would be unlikely to accept me as I was.
I missed Simon. I needed to know I wasn’t the only one feeling unmoored after our amazing weekend together.
Texting wasn’t enough. I needed to see him, touch him.
More than that, I needed him to reassure me that I wasn’t alone.
* * *
SIMON
When I strode into the campus library Monday afternoon, I was in a glum mood. I was still short on sleep after my sex Olympics with Parker—and since we’d checked out of the hotel and stayed in Riverton until Sunday evening, I had a pile of work to do.
I didn’t regret it. Neither of us had been in a hurry to cut our time together short. We’d woken in bed together, surprisingly at ease wrapped around one another. I’d thought the morning after might be awkward—especially since I’d never spent the night with a guy before—but Parker was so easy-going that it had felt natural to kiss him good morning, have lazy sex in bed, then shower together.
This time, I sank to my knees and gave him a proper blow job. I was still a novice, but Parker enjoyed it. Maybe not as much as he enjoyed sucking my cock, but it was tough to be sad about that. Parker was a very oral guy, and I wasn’t about to complain about being the beneficiary of that.
Even after check-out, we’d lingered in town, grabbing brunch and hitting a “barcade”—a bar full of classic arcade games—for an afternoon of laid-back fun. By the time I returned Darnell’s car Sunday evening—after reluctantly dropping Parker off a few blocks away, of course—I was getting anxious texts from him telling me that if I’d wrecked his bae I’d be dead.
