Page 11 of Rocking the Receiver
Elliot
My body buzzeswith excitement as we exit the main building. Mrs. Elders—the foreign student coordinator—just congratulated me on acing the math and English tests that’ll be added to my transfer file. One more milestone. Pride lights up my face as I sprint down the stairs.
The Austin campus is busy, and the energy is palpable. The Texas spring sun beats down on us. This destination fits my dreams and my two-week vacation, but it makes it difficult for me to find time to study for mybaccalauréatand“high bac.”Passing these exams will mark the end of high school, confirm my aptitude to study in English—if doubts lingered— and be the turning point of my new life.
My mom reaches my side shortly after. “And that field, ho—” Yup, she was so about to call me ‘honey’ in a public place. Thankfully, she stopped before I even glanced over at her. “Totally legit!” Mom practically shouts next to me, her arms flying all over the place and eyes widening with enthusiasm. A group of students strolling in the opposite direction swivel theirheads to look at her with an amused grin. She’s so funny when she talks like this.
“Yeah, it’s wicked,” I confirm, doing my best to keep my cool. Inside, I’m practically jumping up and down. “And Coach Stevens seems really solid. I can see myself studying… and playing here, obviously.”
The meeting with Coach Stevens went better than I could’ve hoped. I was worried that living in France wouldn’t play in my favor because American Football isn’t as widespread there as it is in the US. It’s becoming more popular, and my team won plenty of local and regional competitions. Handing Coach Stevens a letter of recommendation from Coach Cassel, who vouched for me, made my heart thump faster. He was straightforward about his expectations, but he encouraged my potential role on the team based on my current coach’s feedback. Then we discussed a potential scholarship.
Things are looking bright, so my nerves subside.
Following my mom’s lead on campus, I glance at her. She’s beaming, which I’m grateful for. This place is everything I hoped it would be and more, but I’m well-aware my 49ers-fan of a mom would have loved for me to attend a California college. “I think so, too. The classes we looked at are right up your alley, and Coach Stevens seems very dedicated to his players. Win-win situation, right?”
“Indeed! I could barely keep my face straight when he revealed that he was Coach Cassel’s rival years ago... Small world! And these facilities, they’re top-notch!”
And then, there’s the Texas Longhorns and the Austin Troopers that perform their magic at the nearby Darrell K Royal-TexasMemorial Stadium… The fact that I might also play games in the literal backyard of my two favorite teams is a huge bonus. And let’s not forget I’ll develop skills that might attract the attention of NFL scouts and recruiters. My ultimate goal. I’m so excited, I’m riding my flow already; everything is so much brighter and real today!
We walk through the quad, passing various groups of students laughing and chatting. I can’t wait to graduate from high school and hopefully join this vibrant community. It’ll be odd to be away from my friends. Most of them are staying in France, but some will study abroad. None are as passionate about and dedicated to football as I am, though. I applied to other colleges, but I already know what I want.
And I always get what I want … eventually. Granted, Rupert Smith remains a challenge, and his silence doesn’t sit well with me.
Maybe I should get over last September’s exchange and contact him?
I store that thought for later as we head toward the administrative building for our meeting with the dean. Gnawing at my lower lip, I register that my stomach’s tied in knots again, and Rupert can’t be completely to blame.
“Elliot, there’s no need to be nervous,” Mom reassures me in her soft voice, witnessing my unease.
I bet she longs to hug me, but knows better. It’s great that she respects my boundaries, which kinda makes me wonder why I haven’t come out to her yet. I guess my limited experience with men stops me from embracing my orientation to the fullest,although I doubt that my closest friends ever browsed gay apps searching for a willing mouth to suck their dick.
I should probably get back on track and focus on today’s activity since no one’s volunteering anyway. “Dean Witter requires this meeting for each foreign student. It’s just to get to know you a bit better, I think.”
I’m surprised that Mom hasn’t called my unwavering interest for this particular college kismet. Between the perfect-for-me finance undergrad program and the coaches being long-time acquaintances, it’s too good to be true.
Trying to sound casual, I mindlessly crack each of my fingers with my thumb. The noise bothers me, but I can’t help it. “I just don’t want to sound too desperate, you know? The more we walk around campus, the more I’m convinced this is the right fit for me.” And the fact that Austin is one of the most inclusive cities in the US doesn’t hurt either, in case I step out of the closet… some day!
She puts a hand on my shoulder for a short moment before taking it away again. “Of course, Elliot. You’ve worked hard for this, and it shows. This is a courtesy visit of sorts.”
We walk into the cool, air-conditioned building, and after a short wait, we’re ushered into the dean’s office. She stands up from behind her mahogany desk and rounds it to offer a firm handshake.
“Nice to meet you, Elliot. I’ve heard so much about you!” Her face lights up with a gentle expression. “Looks like you made quite an impression on Mrs. Elders and Coach Stevens.”
My heart swells with pride despite the nagging feeling of embarrassment.
Why was I expecting a man?
Old habits die hard. I definitely didn’t envision someone like her. Her white dress compliments her plump figure. (Sorry, folks, I may be gay, but I don’t know the first thing about fashion!). Her shoulder-length auburn hair has a thick white streak on top, reminding me of Bonnie Raitt, whom I’ve heard of, thanks to Google. Last year, I researched famous country artists so that I wouldn’t be clueless if the subject came up with Rupert.
I berate myself assuming what the dean would be like. I mean, look at me! I don’t look like anyone in my family. For ages, I’ve been haunted by the feeling that I don’t belong.
“Nice to meet you, Dean Witter.” I shake her hand firmly. “I’m really impressed with the academic and the football program here.”
The conversation flows effortlessly, and Mom scarcely makes her presence known until we discuss the scholarship.
Soon enough, the meeting is over and the weight on my shoulders lifted. On the drive back to the hotel, Mom suggests dinner at a steak house, but I’m beat, so I decline.
Especially because I have something else in mind. I haven’t dug into the gay scene in Austin and I’m too young anyway. Gay porn is out of the question, even though I’m not sharing a room with Mom. So, after spending an hour at the expansive hotel gym while she was getting ready, I order room service. With her gone, I shower and jerk off. (What did you expect?)
