Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 49490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
I pushed my plate aside, held my hand out, and waited for Rob to tentatively slip his palm over mine. “Hey, don’t worry about me.”
“Teo…”
“No, listen. I know you think I’m being a smartass and downplaying danger, but baby…I’m a survivor. I’ve been through hell. They couldn’t hurt me if they tried. Not like I hurt me.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I tortured myself for years. Years. I was the black sheep in a loving Catholic family. Do you have any idea how brutal it is to go to church and be told every Sunday that I was a sinner, shaking in my boots that someone would figure me out? Gay was a slur. Gay was weakness. Gay was unholy, wrong, and I was going to hell. Twelve-year-old me sweated bullets every night, praying like crazy that I’d wake up interested in Jessica Frawley’s boobs. It never happened.
“My teenage years were agony, Rob. Agony. I know you know what that’s like. I played a part like an actor in a never-ending movie. I dated girls and went through the motions like everyone else. I followed my script to a tee, so much so that I avoided openly gay kids. I was afraid of them. Big football player, big tough guy scared one of them might guess the truth and give me away. I lived in fear every fucking day. It was a painful, ugly period, and it scarred me.
“There’s something in me now that’s a little too hard, a little too angry, a little too mean…and I know it. But I’m in a better headspace now than I ever was. Sure, I should probably think about getting a big-boy apartment and working less hours, but…I’ll get there. And yeah, I have regrets that will haunt me forever, but I’m not ashamed to be gay. No one can hurt me with the truth, ’cause I own it. So I guess that’s a long-winded way of telling you that if ESPN, People, and Time magazine want to write my story, I’m all for it. I hope I’d get a chance to tell any kids who might read it to hang in there and never fucking give up.”
Rob’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. He squeezed my hand again and brought it to his lips. His face crumpled a moment later and a horrible, gut-wrenching sob escaped. I stood abruptly and pulled him into my arms. I kissed his face and whispered platitudes in English and Italian as he wept. Our height difference made for an awkward embrace, but it made us hold on a little tighter.
Rob stepped aside, brushing tears as he moved into the living room and collapsed on the sofa, head in hands. I sat quietly and waited for him to speak.
“I didn’t think I’d be so shook up,” he finally said in a low, scratchy voice. “I didn’t think I was scared, but…”
“Hey, it’s okay. If this feels too heavy, it might not be the right time. And that’s okay, too.”
“No, I want to do it. It was always my intention to come out. I don’t have anything to be ashamed of. I grew up and did cool things. Christ, the assholes who made fun of me in grade school want my jersey for their sons and daughters, nieces and nephews now. I liked the idea that I came out on top. It’s a sweet victory for the little kid who walked with his head down to avoid bullies. I owe that kid something. I just…I don’t want this to hurt you.”
“You really like me, huh?” I teased, hoping to infuse a little levity in the conversation.
“Hmph.”
I chuckled. “Well, I like you too. I’m tough. I can handle a little spotlight.”
He met my gaze. “And what if someone insinuates that we’re more than friends? Will you be okay with that, too?”
“Of course.” I punched Rob’s arm when he snorted. “I mean it. I know this—whatever we’re doing—isn’t a relationship. But it’s something.”
“Something special,” he rasped, draping an arm over my shoulders.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It is.”
Rob smiled and kissed my temple, my cheek, my nose, my eyes, then he crooked a forefinger under my chin, and tenderly fused our lips.
We took our time with slow, sweet kisses until eventually heat and need gave way to a passionate explosion.
Rob grabbed my nape roughly and drove his tongue inside. I tugged his shirt from his jeans and sighed. His skin was warm and soft. I needed to feel all of him.
I broke the kiss and licked my lips. “Bedroom.”
My bedroom was spartan in comparison to the rest of my apartment—a queen-sized bed, a nightstand that doubled as a dresser, and that was it.
Rob stripped his shirt off and unbuckled his belt. “Let me see you.”
I yanked my shirt off, but that was as far as I got. He pushed me onto the mattress, our tongues twirling as we rolled from side to side, making out and grinding in a furious quest for friction until I captured his wrists and straddled Rob’s torso.