Coming Attraction (Coastal College Football Book 2) Read online

  Waseem would bet anything that Brent’s pretty girlfriend couldn’t give head like Waseem could.

  He couldn’t think like that. This was a one-time thing. Brent wasn’t interested in him that way. This could only ever be a fantasy.

  Waseem ghosted a hand across his own nipple while sliding the other along the length of his shaft. It felt amazing doing this with Brent in the bed with him. Waseem didn’t understand why, but he went with it.

  Brent’s breathing quickened, and Waseem stopped holding back. He gave in to the fantasy—Brent bent over the bed, that ass ready and waiting for Waseem to take the virgin hole. He would give Brent pleasure like he’d never known before, fucking him while stroking his cock. And as Brent got close, Waseem would lean over and lick his way up Brent’s spine to the nape of his neck, sucking there to mark him.

  Brent was moaning now, letting go like Waseem was, and Waseem had never heard anything sexier. Waseem sped up, so close he could hardly endure it. He wanted to thrust into that sweet pink mouth, then pull out and paint Brent with cum.

  It was all he could do not to reach out for the guy. But Brent had made it clear that touching was off-limits. Of course it was. Brent wasn’t gay.

  Waseem slicked his thumb over his slit and squeezed, thrusting into his hand. Next to him, Brent was bucking hard. The bedsprings squeaked, and Brent called out, “Waseem!”

  Hearing his name pushed Waseem over the edge. He came with a shout and kept coming until he had pumped himself dry.

  He floated in a state of bliss, body sated, mind at peace. Maybe he and Brent couldn’t be lovers, but they had shared something just the same. And it hadn’t been weird, not at all. It had been intimate and a little bit sweet.

  A feeling of affection washed over him. Without the sharp edge of desire to distract him, he could just enjoy the closeness, the deepening of the connection between them. Friendship was a special thing in itself, and Waseem appreciated that.

  Brent passed him a box of tissues. As he cleaned up, Waseem said in a mock-serious tone, “Let us never speak of this.”

  “Why would we speak of it?” Brent mumbled, sleep in his voice.

  Waseem lay back and let his body relax. On the edge of oblivion, in that moment before falling under, he wondered why Brent had called his name.

  Chapter 2

  Brent sat in his parents’ family room reading an article from the Harvard Business Review on his phone. The gray, textured twill fabric of the couch was neatly tailored and accented with throw pillows in a geometric print. Yet the room was cold and unfamiliar, without the feel of home. The pristine furnishings showed no speck of dust.

  The comfy furniture he’d been used to since second grade had been donated to charity. He worried he’d snag the new upholstery, as if he were in a showroom.

  He checked the time. What was taking his girlfriend Karen so long to get there? She ought to be eager to see him. She’d spent Christmas at a ski resort with her family, so they hadn’t been together since Thanksgiving.

  He missed her. She was the only person he remained close to in his small hometown. Sure, he’d had friends in school, but they’d mostly gone their own way after he left for college. The local church had a fire-and-brimstone preacher, and most folks seemed preoccupied with making sure they didn’t go to hell. They didn’t have time to worry much about others.

  If his parents ever found out he’d been to a gay bar, they’d probably lose their minds.

  But going to a gay bar didn’t mean you were gay. He went to the Parrot a couple of times with friends, mostly because he liked hanging out with Waseem. But Emmett was cool, and his boyfriend Jake too, now that Brent had gotten to know them.

  Brent had never been interested in guys that way, though. He and Karen had been dating since high school, and he’d given her a promise ring before they left for college. He supposed they’d get engaged once they graduated. If he got a pro football contract, they could get married right away.

  Otherwise, he should wait and save up some money first. He could live with his parents, and get a finance job in nearby Charlotte. It was a sensible plan, one his dad would approve of.

  His dad was a financial planner who had taught Brent to be careful. His dad had no sense of fun—everything he bought had a practical purpose. Brent couldn’t live like that. But his parents didn’t need to know what he spent his money on or how he spent his leisure time.

  His phone buzzed and he checked the text. He looked out the window to see Karen walking up the sidewalk. She waved as he opened the door.

  The sight of her made him smile. She had always been a comfort when his dad had been a prick, someone soft to turn to, willing to listen and help him work out his feelings. In college, his friend Paige was like that, too. But where Paige was intense, Karen was soothing. She always made him feel good.

  She stepped inside, shucking off her coat. Underneath she wore a pink sweater, which added a rosy glow to her pale cheeks and contrasted with her strawberry-blond hair. He hugged her, squeezing her close to him, then kissed her briefly and nuzzled her freckled button nose. “I’ve missed you.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder. “You too. You’re my best friend, Brent. You always take care of me.”

  He beamed with pride, looking into her pretty pale-green eyes that reminded him of new leaves in springtime. Happiness spread through his chest at the soft feel of her. He gave her another little kiss.

  She stepped back and slid her hands into her pockets. “Looks like your mom did some redecorating.”

  “She’s getting ready to start a new design business,” he said glumly. His mom was trained as an interior designer, but had given up working to stay at home with her kids. Now that his younger brother was getting ready to graduate high school, she was taking a home staging class to update her skills.

  He was happy for her, but it had been a surprise to come home and find that all the furniture had been changed out. No one had even mentioned it to him. Now that he was away at college, he almost didn’t feel like part of the family anymore.

  Not that he’d felt much like part of the family to begin with, at least since he’d outgrown Legos and Hot Wheels. At Coastal, he felt pretty conservative—but compared to the rest of his family? He was practically a socialist, supporting health care and equal pay and same-sex marriage.

  Jesus had healed the sick, so Brent figured Christians should want sick people to have the care they needed. When he’d made that point to his parents, though, he worried for a moment they might disown him. He’d made the mistake of using his brain instead of blindly following what the preacher taught.

  He and Karen sat on the couch. He asked, “Do you want to watch a movie or anything?”

  She picked at her cuticles. “I want to talk to you about something.” She looked around. “We’re alone right? Your mother and sister are still shopping?”

  “Yeah, and Michael’s at school.”

  “Good.” She flattened her lips, and her brows drew together the way they always did when she was thinking. Brent caressed her hand, and she took a deep breath. “When we were sixteen, it made sense for us to sign that celibacy pledge. But we’re twenty-one now, and we’ve been dating five years—”

  “Wait.” Panic rushed over him. “You want to have sex?”

  They hadn’t discussed this in years. They’d both agreed to wait until marriage. He thought it was settled. After months without seeing each other, she was bringing this up out of the blue?

  “Is that such a crazy idea?” she asked.

  “Well, no. I mean, most people our age do. But I thought you wanted it this way.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “That was five years ago. We’re adults now. We’re almost out of college. If I got pregnant, we could afford to keep the baby—”

  “Baby!” What was she thinking? Brent liked kids, but no way in hell was he ready to be a father.

  “I’m not trying to trap you, you big doofus. I brought condoms.”


  He stared. This was happening way too fast. “You want to have sex now?”

  “Not right this minute, if you’re not ready.”

  He rose, nearly hitting his knee on the glass-topped coffee table as he crossed to the center of the room.

  She stood and walked toward him. Standing an arm’s length away, she slid her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. She let out a deep sigh. “This is what I was afraid of.”

  “What?”

  “You’re not attracted to me.”

  He crossed his arms, anger rising inside him. How could she even say that? “Of course I’m attracted to you. You’ve been my girlfriend for five years.”

  “And in all that time, you’ve never even tried to get inside my shirt. At first I thought you were being respectful—”

  “I was being respectful!”

  She looked up at the ceiling, shaking her head. “Brent, I love you. But this thing we have? It’s not normal. I took a class on human sexuality, and it opened my eyes.”

  His Karen took a class on sexuality? The one who used to blush and giggle every time he kissed her?

  “We were so sheltered growing up,” she said. “Sex is more complicated than a man and woman getting together to make a baby. There’s homosexuality and asexuality and gender identity…” She shrugged. “I’m pretty conventional. I identify as female and I’m sexually attracted to men. I have this insanely hot boyfriend with a killer bod, and I’d like to get closer to that. But obviously, something is holding you back.”

  “I thought you said premarital sex was sinful.”

  “I said I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to take any chances. My thoughts have evolved.” She stepped close and laid her hands on his shoulders. “Do you think it’s sinful?”

  The scent of her perfume rose into his nostrils. Everything about her was pretty and sweet. He rested his hands at her waist. “I don’t think it would be sinful for us to have sex, no.”

  She kissed his lips chastely. “Then why are you upset about this?”

  “It’s a big change.”

  She ran her hands down his chest, then pulled away. “Damn it.” Tears filled her eyes. “All this time I thought you were the one. But you don’t feel what I feel.”

  “Karen, I love you! Why are you worried about this? It’s just sex.”

  “And obviously, sex is not something you want. At least not from me.”

  He threw his hands into the air. “We haven’t seen each other in two months!”

  “Which is all the more reason why you should want sex.”

  “Not when it’s our first time.”

  She looked at him assessingly, then shook her head. “This is not a typical reaction when your girlfriend says she’d like sex in the near future. Maybe you’re gay or asexual—or maybe you’re just not into me. But other guys are. And I’m wasting time hoping for something you can’t give me.” She turned and picked up her jacket.

  He shook his head, trying to keep up. “You’re leaving?”

  “I think it’s best if we don’t see each other anymore.”

  “What?” He couldn’t breathe. It was like that time he’d jumped into Heron Lake in the springtime, cold water enveloping him. “You can’t break up with me.”

  “I have to. This will never work.” She wiped away her tears. “I’m not mad at you. It’s not anyone’s fault. You can’t be the man I need.”

  ***

  Brent stomped around the house. He couldn’t believe Karen had just left like that. What she had said made no sense. He wasn’t gay—he’d never been attracted to a man. And he couldn’t be asexual. He liked sex. Okay, he’d never had sex with anyone else, but he liked to get off. He didn’t watch porn or anything, because that was gross. But he did have a sex drive.

  He wandered into the kitchen where his sister Mary Beth was making dinner. After she and his mom had gotten back from shopping, his mom had gone to her home staging class. Michael was in his room studying.

  Mary Beth was two years younger than him, a freshman in college, but an accomplished cook. Her hair was blond like his, shoulder length, curling at the ends. She had their father’s strong features and looked kind of like a female version of Brent. Ironically, it was their younger brother Michael who had inherited their mother’s dark hair and delicate features.

  “Anything I can help with?” he asked.

  “You can cut the peppers into strips and chop the onion. I’m making chicken cacciatore.” She didn’t look up from the casserole dish as she spoke. She had never been a warm person—instead, she was kind of detached and matter-of-fact. Another trait she had inherited from their father.

  They worked mainly in silence. Whenever he tried to start a conversation, she responded in monosyllables. As she put the meal into the oven, she said, “We don’t need to start the pasta until Mom gets home.” She set the timer and left the kitchen.

  Brent watched after her, wishing they were closer. She never showed any anger or unkindness toward him—she just wasn’t a demonstrative person. It made him sad.

  He wiped down the countertops with a soapy dishcloth. His mom wanted to replace the laminate with natural stone, but they’d have three kids in college next fall. They’d probably have to wait a couple of years before updating the kitchen.

  His family was solidly middle class. His dad made too much money for them to get need-based financial aid, but not enough to avoid feeling squeezed. His parents had saved up over the years, but college tuition just kept getting more expensive. Brent knew he was lucky they could afford to send him to a private college, though it helped he had a partial football scholarship. They were frugal, but they were willing to spend money on things that mattered.

  After his parents got home, they all sat down to dinner. Brent’s mom asked him, “Did Karen come over today?”

  He pushed the pasta around his plate with a fork. “Yeah.”

  “How is she?” his dad asked.

  He shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

  His mother scowled, worry in her eyes. “Is something wrong?”

  “We broke up.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

  Brent didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want anyone’s pity. Girls flirted with him all the time—he’d have no trouble getting another girlfriend. “It’s okay. We’d become a habit, really. It might be nice to date someone else for a while.”

  After a few second of silence, his dad changed the subject. “I hope,” he said to Brent, “now that football season is over, you won’t be hanging out with those queers anymore.”

  “Chuck!” his mother cried, eyeing Michael, “language!”

  Brent’s cheeks flamed. He should just let it pass, because arguing wouldn’t change his father’s mind. But silence in the face of bigotry was tacit consent. If nothing else, Brent could set a good example for his brother and sister. “They’re my friends, Dad.”

  “I couldn’t believe Emmett Cross, going on TV talking about his bisexuality. It’s disgusting. What kind of coach would want that in his locker room?”

  “It’s not like he checks out his teammates. He’s a classy guy. Besides, he’s got a boyfriend. They’re in love.”

  “Disgusting. I can’t believe Becca Madison let that pervert on her show.”

  Brent sighed. He didn’t bother mentioning that Becca, a sports reporter for a cable network, had a girlfriend. That piece of news might make his dad’s head explode.

  Michael focused on slicing his chicken as he said, “People can’t help being gay.”

  Their dad jumped out of his chair, the legs screeching against the floor. “People don’t have to act on their twisted thoughts. A pious person suppresses evil. You might have the urge to kill someone, but you don’t do it.”

  “You can’t compare being gay to murder,” Brent said.

  His mother said mildly, “All sin is the same in the eyes of God.”

  Brent just shook his head. The conversation was going nowhere, and Michae
l’s face was etched with worry. So Brent let the subject drop.

  But after dinner, he went to Michael’s room. By the look of it, you’d never know it belonged to a teenage boy. Their mother cleaned it every day, which they both knew included snooping through Michael’s things, looking for drugs or sexy magazines or whatever.

  “You okay?” Brent asked his brother.

  Michael got up from sitting on the bed and closed the door. “My friend Sassy is gay.” His eyes glistened. “If they find out, they’ll never let her in the house again. They may not let me be friends with her.”

  Brent hugged him. Michael’s thick cotton sweater felt soft and warm. The guy was still so young, so vulnerable. Brent hated the distance between them during the school year. He couldn’t protect Michael. The poor guy was all alone with those whack jobs they called parents.

  “Eight more months, “Brent said. “Then you’ll be out of this house, and you can live on your own terms.”

  Michael pulled away, then paced. “Except I can’t. I’ve got college. Dad wants me to major in business, like you, but I want to major in creative writing. They’ll never let me do that.”

  “Then double major. A business degree is helpful no matter what field you go into.”

  “How can you do it?” A quiet rage flowed through Michael’s voice, and passion burned in his dark eyes. “How can you stay so calm? Talk about wanting to kill someone—it’s every day with them and the garbage that comes out of their mouths.”

  Brent smirked. “I used to keep a copy of the serenity prayer in my desk—this is one of those things you can’t change. Once you’re out of school, you can do whatever you like. Become an activist if you want. But for now, toe the line. No point in letting their bigotry ruin your life.”

  “Don’t you ever get angry?”

  “Sure. I just don’t let anger rule my actions.” He hugged Michael again. “It’ll be okay. Unless you tell them Sassy is gay, or they see her holding her girlfriend’s hand or something, they won’t figure it out. They have zero gaydar.”