“Are you freaking serious? Can’t you trade with another professor? Jesus Christ, Lucas. This can’t possibly work.”
His eyes flash bright green before they darken exponentially, his tone turning cynical and full of censure.
“I don’t see a problem with it,” he says, picking up the bag from the lecture table and flipping it over his shoulder. Peering back over his shoulder, he lifts a brow that I see just as he turns the corner. “Unless, of course, you don’t think you’ll be able to control yourself around me.”
And then he winks.
3
Lucas
I have to work hard to regulate my breath as I walk back to my office at the opposite end of the building. It’s not that it’s a strenuous jaunt, or that I’m out of shape, it’s simply the way Kyler’s presence in my classroom had me in a state of stimulated agitation the past fifty-five minutes.
My body’s reaction was a chemical combustion fueled by the weight of his hazel-eyed gaze directed squarely on me while I lectured. Or tried to lecture, that is.
Of all the students I’ve had in my classroom over my teaching career, never have I been so flustered – and fucking aroused – by any of them before. I nearly cursed out loud at my cock’s untimely response to Kyler’s swaggering reply to my question posed to the class. It was exactly the same kind of flirty brashness he had when we first met back in July.
I throw the door to my office open to find Coach Garrett Parker sitting at my desk, reading something on his phone.
Great, just what I need. The only other man in my life who has pushed me to the limits of my sanity and made me ache for him in ways not appropriate in friendship.
“I’ve got a student coming for his first session. What’s up, G?” My brisk, unwelcoming tone is unnecessarily rude and when I see the dejected look on his face, I feel like the worst friend in history.
“Well, good morning to you, too, Professor Asshole,” he says at the snub, handing me the coffee in his hand. “I simply wanted to wish you a good first day and give you some coffee I thought you could use. And by that greeting, you obviously could use something much stronger than coffee. Bad morning already?”
My long-time friend, and men’s basketball coach, hands me the cup and arches a brow. “Thanks. That was very considerate and I’m sorry,” I apologize, accepting the gift he’s bestowed. “And I do really appreciate it.”
I take a sip and sigh as the heat of the liquid calms my already frayed nerves. Garrett stands, moving toward the doorway, his tall, six-foot-six frame filling the space as he turns back to me. “I hope your day goes better. Just give me a holler if you’re free for lunch later this week. My schedule doesn’t get too crazy until October.”
As the associate men’s basketball coach, Garrett is an integral part of the school’s ball program, who just accepted this role after retiring early from the NBA. He and I played college ball together in Indiana and then our careers took different paths. He turned pro and I finished grad school and my Ph.D. program to begin teaching.
It was a necessity for Garrett to leave the world of the NBA after his world crashed down around him a year ago. It was then that I convinced him to move down to Arizona and accept the open coaching role for the university.
We’ve been through a lot together – him more so than me – but I’d never turn my back on his friendship, even when I’ve struggled to keep my unrequited adoration for him bottled up and hidden. There have been times over the past ten years I’ve wanted so badly to tell him I loved him. And not just his friendship. But he’s straight and thinks I’m straight, so it’s been a moot point.
It was in college when my confusing, but ever-present, thoughts and sexual desires for Garrett grew too strong for me to ignore the fact that I might be gay or bisexual. Although I wanted to desperately, I never tried to find out if Garrett was like me, and instead, found ways to hide my self-discovery.
Over time, however, I got a handle on those feelings to avoid being outed unnecessarily, but my bi-curiosity only grew bigger, demanding that I learn more about this side of me.
At the time, I considered myself bisexual, but my preference strongly leans toward the male gender. I’ve dated women – because that was what was expected – and with the added pressure of my grandmother to find a woman and settle down, I gave it a good try. I was even engaged to a woman for a short time due to an ultimatum my grandmother gave me, requiring that I get married in order to be considered worthy of her fortune.
The engagement lasted all of six months. Her name was Daniella and she was a French flight attendant who I met on a trans-Atlantic flight to Paris several years back. She was beautiful, elegant, sophisticated, and loved to indulge me in my museum visits every time we were together in Paris. We dated for over two years and she was perfect for me because we were together only infrequently.
My grandmother adored Daniella, who was cultured and chic. She was thrilled I found someone to marry. While I’ll admit, my heart wasn’t into it one hundred percent, I did care for Daniella deeply, and I popped the question with an elaborate proposal on bended knee outside the Louvre.
Unfortunately, I quickly learned that once chemistry burns out and you’re left to find the foundation has crumbled, a long-distance relationship will fall just as easily as a house of cards. Our break-up wasn’t overly difficult for either of us, but it sure did burst my grandmother’s bubble, who was very displeased with my decision not to work it out.
Sadly, I knew my heart wasn’t in it. I also knew my sexuality would become an issue long-term and that wasn’t fair to Daniella, who I eventually told out of respect for her. We’re still good friends and will occasionally have dinner together when we’re in town at the same time.
But honestly, I was relieved to walk away knowing I wouldn’t have to commit to a lifetime in a loveless marriage. The tragedy, however, is that unless I come out, I may never have the love I truly want.
And here we are, back at square one. Garrett has moved on his from his past trauma and has fallen for a bright and beautiful woman – his son, Caleb’s, nanny – with his attention now cast on how they will make it work between them. This leaves me trying to tame and tamp down these irritatingly lingering feelings I’ve had for him for years.
Garrett turns back around to me, snapping his fingers as if he just now realized something.
“Shit, that’s right. I knew there was another reason I stopped by.” He throws his head back and laughs and I know exactly what that means.
“I knew there was a catch. You don’t just bring me coffee out of the kindness of your heart.”
He scoffs, bringing a hand to cover his heart as if hurt. “Ouch, dude. That wounds me, brother. But, you’re right. I’d really like to take Brooklyn out on a grown-up date this weekend,” he uses air quotes with a shrug of his shoulder, and then gives me an apologetic smile. “And I was hoping you could watch Caleb for a few hours Saturday night.”
I roll my eyes, slipping my glasses down my nose to check the calendar on my phone. “I knew you’d rope me in somehow and the coffee was simply a persuasion tactic to butter me up. Scheming asshole.”