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)
Forcing myself away from the windows, I made my way toward my office. It was late, but I’d always been more of a night owl. I worked for a couple of hours before getting online. I was a glutton for punishment. One would think by now I’d stop looking myself up, but the truth was, I got a laugh out of what people said. It gave me strength because I just didn’t give a fuck anymore. The headlines, the clickbait. It was ridiculous.
United States Senator Weston Calloway enjoys a night on the town with a mystery man.
Will this one stick? Who’s the new guy on Weston Calloway’s arm?
Will any man win young Senator Calloway’s heart?
America’s most eligible gay bachelor, Weston Calloway, was seen out with a twinky blond!
Conservative Senate minority leader from North Carolina, Tripp Calloway, replies with “no comment” when asked about his out and proud senator son.
“Are you at least proud of him, Senator Calloway? Being the youngest member of the Senate is quite the honor.”
“What Weston does is none of my concern,” the senator replied.
No, it wouldn’t be, would it? The only time we spoke was as members of Congress, not as father and son.
I shut down my computer, plucked my cell off the desk, and called Brady, the twinkish blond the articles mentioned.
“Well, this is a surprise,” he said, instead of hello. “I didn’t expect to hear from you again.”
“But you wanted to,” I teased.
“Obviously.”
Brady and I chatted and flirted a bit before planning a hookup. Afterward, I jerked off to the memory of him on his knees for me.
Fuck anyone who had a problem with who I was.
Chapter Three
Anson
September
We were in DC for the first game of the regular season, and we’d spent hours in team meetings, going over strategy about the game the next day. We’d been let go for the night, a little over an hour before. Darren and I roomed together the way we always did. Sometimes I had a story prepared, other times I didn’t. That night fell into the first category. It was easier that way, not just because I didn’t have to worry about him trying to get me to go out with him, but because then I could lie to myself. I could pretend I was just like Darren and any of the other guys who spent their nights getting laid in every city.
Christ, I was being mopey lately. I didn’t usually dwell on it so much. How could I, when I looked at my life? At everything I had. I was lucky, and it didn’t feel appropriate to complain.
Darren got out of the shower and came into the room with a towel wrapped around his waist. He was looking around in his bag, and I turned, picking up my phone and studying it.
“Let me guess,” he said. “You’re staying in tonight?”
“Nope. I’m actually meeting up with someone,” I lied.
“No shit?” I could hear the question in Darren’s voice, but I kept my eyes averted.
“Yeah, man, what the fuck? It’s not like I never go out.” Sometimes I even had sex, but that was getting harder to do—both physically and mentally. Women were pretty, soft and sweet. I could see what other men saw in them, I could acknowledge their beauty, but I just didn’t want them that way. It felt good in the moment, of course, because physical response and all, but afterward, I always hated myself even more.
“You rarely go out, gramps, but good, I’m glad you’re having some fun tonight. You deserve it.” He walked over and ruffled my hair like I was twelve. I jerked my head back, looking up to see him standing in front of me in a pair of briefs.
“Fucker.” I pushed him, then stood and moved around him toward the window. We were on the team floor, high above the city. I looked out at the lights, at how alive it was, and wished I felt that way myself.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve seemed down lately.”
I’m tired. So fucking tired of being scared. Of living a lie.
“Is it Elias?”
“No, and he’d kick your ass for even asking. He’s great. Working on his doctorate.” I’d left college early for the NFL draft. My brother was a dichotomy. On the one hand, he was like a frat boy obsessed with video games. On the other, he was the smartest person I knew. He wanted to change the world, and he would. He also wanted to teach politics—something I didn’t get and hadn’t really ever been into. I voted, of course, but I couldn’t imagine wanting to study it. We were close, though, and I loved living with him; it helped me feel less lonely, but I wondered how long that would last. Elias was independent, and eventually he’d want to move on.