Page 56 of Still Bruised
But his three weeks of playing beside Rick had been nothing compared to what Jude had lived through. Slurs had been screamed at him as he walked the halls. Someone had even spraypainted one of the worst ones on the side of Jude’s car for the world to see.
There were probably more things Foster didn’t know about.
“Coach had asked me to grab something from his office. Before I went back out, I heard the fight break out,” Cary said. “At least, it sounded like a fight. I walked over to see what was going on. By the time I rounded the corner, you two were kissing. I was… awestruck. Foster Prince, of all people, was kissing a cute emo boy. One I’d thought was cute, anyway.”
“Hewascute,” Foster agreed, grinning. “And always wore those fucking skinny jeans showing off his ass. He got me hard a few too many times for my own wellbeing.”
“What were you fighting about?”
“I walked in and caught him going through my locker and pulled him out of it. He was looking for something Rick had taken from him. I told him to go before someone caught him, but he refused. When he went into Rick’s locker, I pulled him out again. He shoved me, I shoved back. We wrestled a minute… and the wrestling… turned into kissing.”
Jude’s body against his, squirming… It had done things to him.
Foster had simplyhadto kiss Jude. It had been so much different than kissing Ashley. The rougher lips. The stubble. The feel of a hard cock pressing against his thigh.
It had felt… so right.
And then suddenly, so,soterribly wrong.
“Ah… so you were defending Rick,” Cary said, rolling his eyes. “We see how much that’s benefitted you, hmm?”
“I was trying to protect Jude from being caught in there more so than protecting Rick’s shit. As I said before, he was a teammate. That’sall.”
“Sounds like an easy excuse why you kept shitty company.”
“Maybe,” Foster admitted. “But… I liked playing the game. I was good at it. I liked making people happy and… making them proud of me.”
Foster shook his head. “I’d always felt like an outsider. Like I didn’t belong. But in this one thing, I excelled, and by excelling in it, I was just one of the guys. It bought me cover and helped me pretend I was like everyone else.” Foster cracked his neck. “Pretending eventually resulted in a loveless marriage to a woman I barely liked by the end of it.” He slid his glass forwardwith his forefinger. “And me back at square one trying to start my life over again when I have no idea who I really am.”
“I think we were all pretty much pretending back then. We’re told boys don’t cry. Don’t act like a sissy. Chase pretty girls. Get a good job. Be the breadwinner.Marrypretty girls.” Cary scoffed. “I got caught up in that bullshit, too. It’s why I became the manager for the football team. I knew it was as close as a skinny nerd like me could get and it just might make my father happy that I was doing something he deemedmanly. And maybe,just maybe, that might throw them off the scent that I was gay.”
“What did he think of your current profession?”
“I never told him,” Cary said, emotion draining from his face.
“Why didn’t you? I’m sure that might’ve earned a couple of points.”
“Fuckthat motherfucker,” Cary said. “I stopped giving a shit about him a long time ago, well before he died.” He smiled cruelly. “Though, Ididget to tell him how big of a homo I was before he departed this earth—and how any chances of his gene pool continuing were dying inside a bevy of femboys across the tri-state area.”
Foster snorted and nearly spit the swallow of beer in his mouth.“Femboys?”
“Sometimes called sissies, though a lot of them don’t like that name.” Cary shrugged. “I like soft, pretty men, and I’m not ashamed of it.”
“I think I can guess how your dad took that.”
“Poorly,”Cary said, his smile getting wider. “But he’s gone now, and I don’t have to worry about himorhis shitty opinions anymore.”
“And your mom?”
“For a long time, she was angry that I laid that on him when he was sick—and maybe that was bad form on my part—but I couldn’t hold back any longer. He needed to die knowing that no matter how much homophobic nonsense he’d spewed, I still ended up gay.” Cary let out a long, slow breath. “But she and I are good now, for the most part. She still occasionally brings up grandchildren and her lack thereof, and I have to remind her that isn’t happening. But otherwise, we’re okay.”
“There’s always adoption one day,” Foster said. “If you met the right guy.”
Cary frowned.“I’mnot the right guy. I was never taught how to be a good dad. Plus, as you’ve said, I work in a pretty dangerous vocation, so there’s two big black marks on my daddy score card.” Cary waved the bartender down and held up two fingers. “Doyourparents know?”
“I haven’t said anything, but as many rumors have been going around since I got back, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d heard something.” Foster closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. “If they have, they’ve done a fantastic job of hiding it.”
“If they’re hiding it, that might mean they’ll be accepting,” Cary said. “If my dad had gotten wind, he would’ve confronted me and demanded I leave his house.”
