Page 1 of Learn Your Limits
Chapter one
Reid
“You sure you don’t wanna hit up this party with us, man?” Wes asks, popping the top off a bottle of beer before chugging half of it down.
Another Friday night, another party at some fraternity house. A few months ago, I would have been pre-gaming right alongside him in preparation for the biggest party of the season. We’re only a few days away from the start of the new semester, and everyone seems to be trying to cram in what remaining bits of freedom they can.
Everyone except me.
Truth be told, I’m getting sick of the party scene. It likely doesn’t help that I took a gap year between graduating high school and starting at university, but I feel like the endless partying and one-night stands have lost their appeal. I’m twenty-three years old and in the final year of my program. Even though it’s been hard and I could use the stress relief, I can’t bring myself to get hyped up for another night of drinking and meaningless interactions with people I’ll probably never see again.
I’m ready for something different. Something deeper. Something more.
I don’t think my roommates would judge me for the direction my mind has been taking lately, but I’m not ready to confide in either of them just yet.
I still have too many unanswered questions about myself.
I realized I was attracted to both men and women in high school. As cliché as it is, I fell for my best friend, only it didn't end with some sweet moment like what you see in the movies. It ended with him ending our friendship and shouting at me to stay away from him. I don’t know what compelled me to tell him when I was already having a hard time, but I didn't expect him to react the way he did. I thought, at the very least, he would be a supportive friend.
That was the first and last time I put myself out there with another man. Thanks to who my parents are and the influence they carry, there has always been this insane pressure to put the family image first and my own personal needs and desires last.
I’ve never had the chance to explore this other side of myself.
After graduating high school, I spent a year interning at my father’s company, Callahan Enterprises, where it felt like every move I made or word I spoke was being examined beneath a microscope. It was, without a doubt, the most miserable year of my life, and with it, the pressure to be perfect only increased tenfold.
I started my studies at Oakhart University as soon as my forced internship was up, but despite the slight independence living away from home has given me, my father has been pushing for me to join the company since my first day here.He expects me to take my place at his side after graduation, marry an influential woman, and live happily ever after.
Little does he know, I have no intention of taking a position at Callahan Enterprises. I have no desire to spend my days workingin a corporate office, and the idea of marrying someone simply because they would help seal a business deal doesn’t sit right with me. I want no part of the life that has been planned out for me.
I want to build a career that fulfills me and brings me joy, a career where I feel like I can truly make a difference. And if and when I do decide to get married, it will be for love, not for money or a contract.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m just gonna stay in for the night,” I tell him, holding up my sketchbook and pencil as if to hint at the piece I’ve been working on all day. I could have been an art major, but it’s my only escape from all of the bullshit in my life. It’s the only thing I have that’s truly just for me, and I don’t want to risk the passion burning out when it becomes something I have to do versus something I want to do.
“Suit yourself, Callahan.” He shakes his head with a slight laugh at my expense and downs the rest of his beer before tossing the bottle into the small recycling bin. Wes has his own bullshit to deal with when it comes to his family, but where I tend to let the stress get to me, he lets it roll off his shoulders.
As soon as both Wes and Matt, our other roommate, are out of the apartment, I head into my bedroom and toss my sketchbook onto the bed. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I open the dating app I downloaded earlier today. It took some searching through social media pages, but I finally managed to find one designed specifically for queer men.
Knots form in my stomach as I stand with the camera in selfie mode, stretching my arm out in front of me and angling my phone to capture as much of my body as possible. The dark green crewneck sweater I’m wearing makes the red tones of my auburn hair and the freckles across my cheeks and bridge of my nose more prominent.
I give a slight smile and snap the photo, taking a moment to look at it before swiping it away and opening the camera back up. I want to put myself out there, but I’m not so sure I’m ready to show my face on this app. I’d rather wait and build a connection with someone first. I want someone to like me formeand not for who my parents are or the connections I could potentially provide. I move to stand in front of the floor-length mirror mounted to my wall and hold my phone up in front of my face, blocking it from view but capturing my entire body in the photo.
Once my profile is complete, albeit a bit minimal, I plop down onto my bed and begin swiping through profiles of guys who are within a ten mile radius. With only a few days before the start of the semester, and the busy class schedule I know I’ll have, I won’t have time to date someone who doesn’t live nearby.
It takes swiping through a handful of profiles before my attention finally lands on a guy in his late thirties.
While I’ve never been the type to put too much focus on someone’s age, I’ll admit that detail is drawing me in. He only has two photos, but they’re enough to give me an idea of who he might be. In one of them, he’s smiling for the camera, his dark eyes shining through a pair of glasses. In the other, he appears to be lounging comfortably on a couch with a glass of wine in one hand and a book in the other. Something about the second photo has me wanting to be curled up on the couch beside him.
His profile says he’s an educator of some kind, which has me intrigued. My hope is to become a school counselor, and the idea of potentially being with someone who shares a similar passion has butterflies taking flight in my stomach.
There’s probably a dozen reasons why I shouldn’t message a man who is over ten years older than me, starting with the likelihood that he won’t take me seriously, but I do it anyway.Before I have time to talk myself out of it, I hit themessagebutton and shoot my shot.
CallMeCal:Hi. I have no idea what I’m doing or what the right thing to say even is, but... I think you’re really handsome. I’d love to chat, if you’re up for it.
Fuck.Did that sound as absolutely pathetic as I think it did? A groan of embarrassment escapes my chest as I toss my phone down onto the bed beside me and run my hand over my face.
I mean, what’s the worst thing that could happen?
Chapter two
