Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Why not?” He gives me a judgmental look—one that reminds me of how my parents used to look at my sister whenever she’d get into trouble, the sort of look I’ve always dreaded them turning on me if they found out I was gay.
I glance around and lean toward him, whispering, “In what universe do you think if you send a hot guy into my bedroom, we’re magically going to have sex?”
“The universe of mortals,” he replies without even thinking about it. “He walked to the bathroom butt-naked. Or should I say, cock-naked, because damn. Damn.”
I notice a few people looking our way. The guy on the treadmill on the other side of Derek, beefy with his iPod earphones in, eyes us, looking more interested than annoyed.
Derek continues, “How did you see that ginormous corndog and not mouth-worship the meat right out of it?”
“How are we even friends?”
He turns to me and runs the back of his hand down the side of his face. “Because you think I’m pretty. Plus, you’re the only guy who can repair my PC whenever I’ve bogged it down with porn and nude selfies. And I’m the only hair stylist in the city who’s willing to work around your cowlick.”
I pick up the speed on my machine, starting into a light jog.
“Fine. Next time, I won’t send you a beautiful cock of the gods,” Derek says. “If I’d been smart, I would have gotten down on my knees and blown that thing myself. Somebody’s gotta do it.”
“You’re such a trooper.”
“The guy knew your name, for Christ’s sake.”
“He called me Garrett.”
“You should feel blessed a guy that hot, who you’ve never met before, almost knew your name. You’re so ungrateful. Whatever. So, what are you wearing to the Second Chances pool party tomorrow?”
Second Chances, a major nonprofit organization, hosts a variety of fundraisers throughout the year to raise money to house people affected by HIV and AIDS. It’s a great cause, but Peter’s on the board.
“I told you I’m not going,” I reply.
“You have to go! You have to show him that his asshole behavior isn’t going to keep you from being at one of the hottest pool parties of the summer. Plus, you have to show every other guy who’ll be there what you look like in a speedo.”
“I look terrible in a speedo.”
“You know what doesn’t look terrible in a speedo, Gary? Your dick. And that’s all anyone’ll care about. Okay, your ass also, but you’ve got that covered pretty well. Not saying you should skimp on the squats, but you’ll be fine for tomorrow.”
I want to refuse to go, but there’s no point fighting Derek. He’s already made up his mind, and he’s right. I can’t spend my life hiding from Peter and Evan. A successful prosecuting attorney, Peter is an incredibly active member of several boards for a variety of LGBT causes. On top of that, since most of my life as an out, gay man has been spent in Atlanta with him, we also share a lot of the same friends, meaning the only way I could possibly avoid him would be to become a hermit—something I was tempted to do when I discovered what he was doing with Evan.
I take a breath and pick up speed on the treadmill so I’m jogging a little faster. Derek and I build into an intense run. When the treadmill really gets moving, I find negative affirmations are the best way to keep me going, reminding myself: You’re a failure. You’re disgusting. Keep going if you ever want anyone to like you.
It’s how I’ve always approached working out. I’ve never strived to look like one of the guys at this gym. I don’t need to look like a model. In fact, I’d rather not. It’s a thin line I’ve always treaded. Never wanted to look out of shape enough that people would think I was lazy, but never so fit they’d call attention to my body.
When I was little, I didn’t ask for attention. I think a part of it had to do with my troublemaker older sister, who was always getting primarily negative attention. While my parents scolded her for everything from bad grades to destruction of property, I lay low. I didn’t swing the other way like some people might have done. No, I didn’t need them to praise me. In fact, I think I was afraid if they ever did praise me, it might set me up to disappoint them. But if their expectations were always average, I never had to worry about upsetting them. I could keep them happy, and they’d never have a reason to fuss at me.
That’s why I never came out to them. That would have disrupted the normal image I’d worked so hard to create.
Normal’s still all I want to be. A normal guy who blends in and never has any attention called to him for any reason, which has only amplified all the shit that went down with Peter and Evan because it’s called so much attention to me. Made people notice me and point to me as they tell the story of what went down…or their version of the story, at least. Of how long he was seeing Evan. How stupid I was for not knowing anything was going on.