Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 6

to him about her job, and how was he, and would she see him later. He smiled and laughed and gave her his full attention. Meanwhile all I could do was stare at his big hand as it stroked up and down her smooth, bronze thigh, each time getting a little closer to the hem of her ultra short-short shorts. Hell, her concession apron was longer than her shorts.
    The dagger already stuck in my heart twisted a little more, as I watched them together. Seeing the person you're in lust/like with, with someone else is bad enough, but it hurts even deeper to know you're not even the right option for him.
    I forced my eyes back to the game and tried to ignore the two of them next to me. Luckily, she was just on a quick break and didn't stay very long. And then the Grizzlies won the game, so Chase didn't notice I was not quite as festive as everyone else in my excitement.
    When I got home that night it took me forever to fall asleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw that bimbo and Chase together. Like I said, I'd seen Chase with lots of other girls before and it never mattered. But now it did, and I was sad and upset and angry. The anger was for me, for these feelings I had, for liking boys. For feeling my dick swell every time I saw him. And for not being able to do anything about it.
    I eventually got a few hours of fitful sleep that night. And I wallowed and sulked for a couple more days. Finally, I had to just suck it up and get through the rest of summer. I tried to hang out more when Chase was around, and we went to a bunch of ball games together. I just acted like everything was normal. Well, as normal as blue balls and twice-daily showers could be.
    Chase went back to college early that summer, a requirement of his being on the football team. And the summers after that he ended up staying in Ohio, so it was years before I saw him in person again. I got busy with high school and he got busy finishing college and working— the occasional email or Facebook post was the only contact we had time for. Still, it always made my day when I opened an email to read, " Hey Little A !" And, he kept his word; he was always there when I needed him.
    CHAPTER 2
    Fall, 2005
    I got outed when I was sixteen. By my own Dad, of all people.
    High school is tough for most of us, but it's even tougher as a gay kid. Well, really I shouldn't complain, I never got beat up or bullied or anything like that, even after I came out. But I still hid who I was when I started high school. And physically it was easy— I had never really fit any of the "gay stereotypes" so no one ever guessed. I was just your average all-American boy. I looked "butch." I played sports. But emotionally it took its toll.
    I had to pretend every time I hung out with the other kids at school. I laughed and joked with the other boys about hot chicks and breasts and all the other crude things young boys talk about as they're discovering their sexuality. I flirted back with the girls who batted their eyelashes and smiled sweetly at me.
    And of course, I was also afraid of my parents finding out, so I had to pretend at home too. I thought Mom would probably be okay with it, but it was my dad that really scared me. I'd never heard him voice an opinion one way or the other towards gays, but he was ex-Marine. He'd never been violent with Bobby or me, other than a few spankings when we were still toddlers, but what if he tried to hit me or throw me out of the house? Horrible things to think about your father, I know, and deep down, I probably knew better, but when you're alone and in the middle of something like that, your fears take over. All you worry about is not living up to what they expect you to be. All you worry about is that they might not love you anymore.
    My sophomore year, I had just turned sixteen and it was Homecoming weekend. Up until this point I had gone out with a few girls, mostly as group date-type situations. My group of friends usually all just hung out together all the time so there was no real "dating," so to speak. I could get away with a casual arm around a girl, a little kissing but nothing further, because we were never alone.
    But Homecoming was the beginning of things starting to change. The hubbub started two months before; it was all the girls talked about— who was going with whom, who had asked who, what they were wearing and when they were going shopping— on and on and on. And the boys had gotten pulled in too. Everyone was starting to pair off as