Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 105080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Darren finally pulled his underwear on. I crossed my arms and looked at him as he dropped his head back and laughed, the dark skin of his torso still glistening with water droplets.
“You heard wrong, old ass. You should get home. I think it’s past your bedtime.”
I shoved him playfully before the two of us stopped fucking around and finished getting dressed. Darren took longer than me, but I waited for him like I always did, head down and browsing social media on my phone until he was done.
We walked to our cars together. “You know I just like to give you shit, right?” Darren said, surprising me.
“Yeah. What the fuck? I know you. You’re a dumbass. I don’t take anything you say seriously.” Where in the hell was this coming from? Darren didn’t say stuff like that to me, at least not when we were just talking crap the way we always did, the way most of the guys did.
“Just making sure you know you’re my boy, always. Nothing will change that shit.”
Sweat dripped into my eyes, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. What the hell was going on here? Could he know? How could he fucking know?
My stomach contracted, and a wave of nausea swept through me. Speak. Say something. Still, words wouldn’t come.
“Even if you act like you’re older than my grandpa and are boring as hell,” Darren added. Something about his tone of voice, the playful affection there, helped pull me out of the spiral I was in. He didn’t know. There was no way anyone could know. I’d never even said the words out loud.
A rush of sadness enveloped me at that, but I ignored it. Always ignored it. There was too much at risk otherwise. “You trying to tell me you’re in love with me, Edwards? Sorry, you’re not my type.”
“Fuck no,” Darren said. “You’re too ugly for me.” He winked. I ignored what he’d said.
We bumped fists and went our separate ways. I climbed into my SUV, then made my way home. I lived in the suburbs of Atlanta, tucked away in the kind of neighborhood I could only dream about as a kid, a couple of hours from the facility where we had training camp.
I pressed the button to open the gate, parked, then walked up the ramp leading to my front door. It was unlocked, and the second I stepped inside, I heard Elias and a couple of his friends shouting at a video game playing in the background. He was only three years younger than me, but if you asked him, I’d always thought I was his dad. I couldn’t help it. He was my brother, my family, and I took that shit seriously. Our dad had died when we were young, so I’d been all he’d had for a male role model.
I went into the living room. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Motherfucker!” Elias said, and his buddy snatched the game controller from him.
“My turn,” his friend said.
“Hey, big bro. What’s up?” He wheeled himself over to me. Elias had been young when it happened. Mom had been at work, and I’d been watching him. This guy I’d been crushing on, the guy who made me actually acknowledge the things I felt, had a trampoline. He’d said we could come over. Elias and I didn’t have shit like that, and I’d told myself I was going for my brother so he could have some fun, but it wasn’t true. We’d gone because the boy had pretty eyes and a nice smile. I’d been looking at those eyes and that smile instead of watching my brother. He’d jumped, fell wrong, and everything changed. He’d injured his spinal cord and lost the use of his legs. I would never forgive myself for letting it happen. Wanting to look at a cute boy had ended in Elias’s accident. That was on me.
Elias always said he wouldn’t change his injury, even without knowing why I held on to my guilt over it. He said it was supposed to happen, that no one should feel sorry for him, and just because he couldn’t walk didn’t mean he couldn’t live a fulfilling life—and he did. He had a large group of friends, a part-time job, and was working on his doctorate in political science. Sometimes I wondered how he did it all. I helped out where I could and paid for his schooling. He never let anything hold him back. I had no doubt that if my brother were gay, he’d be braver than me. He wouldn’t want to change who he was.
“I just want to collapse into bed,” I finally replied.
“And that’s different from every other day because…? You’re the most boring millionaire I know.”
“Jesus Christ. What the fuck is up with everyone today? Darren was giving me shit too.”