Coming Attraction (Coastal College Football Book 2) Read online

  Michael nodded. “This is true.” A little smile broke over his face.

  Brent patted his brother’s back, then gave him some privacy—at least what he could in that house. Brent had no energy for being angry at his parents. He’d accepted a long time ago that they were who they were.

  He focused on their good qualities rather than the bad. His dad was a volunteer fireman, his mom the president of the PTA. He couldn’t hate them—they weren’t evil. They were just so blinded by their religious beliefs, they couldn’t see how harmful they were.

  His parents had always taken good care of him and his siblings. He was grateful for that. He and Michael hadn’t absorbed their bigotry, although his sister Mary Beth was a different story. She was like a younger version of their mom, majoring in home economics in college. Brent hadn’t even known that was still a thing. She’d managed to find some small college in South Carolina that offered it.

  She’d make some man a very good Stepford wife.

  In fairness, she was planning to teach. And he shouldn’t judge her for her choices. Women could be anything they wanted—and that included being housewives or stay-at-home moms. Brent’s mother had always said there was no more important calling than raising the next generation, and Brent agreed. Mary Beth had just never questioned his parents’ traditional beliefs, and that worried him.

  He went down to the basement to lift weights for a while, but the solitude closed in on him. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Karen had said. It wasn’t fair—she’d caught him off guard. Brent wasn’t asexual just because he didn’t want to sleep with her out of the blue like that. He liked sex. Getting off with Waseem that night after the game…that had been amazing. Brent totally liked sex.

  And he’d always liked kissing Karen, the softness of her mouth, the gentle way her hands caressed his body. He’d gotten semi-hard a few times from that. He always stopped when he did, because they’d agreed to stay celibate until marriage. He’d thought that was important to her. If that had changed, why hadn’t she just told him?

  He went upstairs, took a quick shower, and powered up his computer. Even though he thought it was stupid, he read up on asexuality, just so he could prove Karen wrong. He even took a little online quiz he found.

  The bottom fell out of his stomach when he saw how he scored.

  Gray ace.

  That couldn’t be right.

  So he looked for other tests and took them one after the other. Always the same result. How could that be?

  He paced for a while, scrubbing his face with his hands. The descriptions of gray ace didn’t ring true for him, not exactly. But he couldn’t deny that the descriptions of sexual people didn’t match his experience, either. If he was ace, what did that mean for his future?

  He searched the Web for information about what gray ace really meant. As it turned out, some asexual people liked sex, but they just weren’t attracted to other people. Or they felt attraction, but only under certain circumstances.

  Brent didn’t understand what that even meant.

  He thought Karen was pretty. He looked forward to spending time with her, and missed her while they were apart. But he didn’t fantasize about her. Not even when he got off.

  Brent flopped onto his bed and hugged a pillow to his stomach. He felt tangled in knots. All his visions of the future had involved getting married and having kids. Was that even an option anymore?

  If he was honest with himself, the thought of being with Karen had never aroused sexual feelings in him. He’d figured they would have sex eventually, and he enjoyed orgasms. But he’d never really wanted to do more than kiss and cuddle with her—maybe sex with her would have been gross to him.

  He’d never considered that possibility. But now that he thought about it…hearing guys in the locker room talk about sex with their girlfriends had always given him a weird feeling in his stomach. He’d thought it was because of his strict upbringing, or because he was embarrassed about being a virgin.

  He had to admit…abstaining hadn’t been a struggle for him. Not like it seemed to be for other people. He’d thought it was because he never let things get very far with Karen, and he relieved any sexual tension he felt on his own. Was there more to it?

  Brent rubbed his temples. He didn’t want to be ace. He liked the thought of intimacy, of building a connection to another person and sharing a life with them.

  Maybe he’d made a mistake, committing to the first girl he’d really dated. Now that he and Karen were broken up, he could be with anyone he wanted. If Karen didn’t rev his engine, he’d find someone who did.

  In a few weeks he’d be back at college—and he’d have a whole buffet of hot women to choose from. No one came to mind, but he’d find someone he liked. Then, he could put this ridiculous asexuality business to rest.

  Chapter 3

  The aroma of coffee and turkey bacon lured Waseem downstairs the morning he was leaving to go back to college. His youngest sister, fourteen-year-old Eisa, worked the frying pan while his mother cut out the biscuits from the dough. His grandmother was scrambling the eggs with a whisk. “Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

  “You and Aliyah are the guests of honor,” his mother said. “Go play with your brothers.”

  Aliyah was also heading back to school that day, but in the other direction, toward the mountains. He found her in the living room reading a fashion magazine, wearing jeans and a black sweater. Her face was made up, and large, dangly round earrings hung from her ears.

  His younger brothers were also there, playing a video game. Rafi, at nine, was the most hyper member of the family. His age seemed to have nothing to do with it. According to their mom, he’d always been the most active of her children. By contrast, Tamir, aged eleven, was laid back and incredibly patient with his younger brother.

  Waseem sat on the floor with them, and they started a new game. He loved watching how they progressed, how they learned new things and adapted their strategy accordingly. If it weren’t for wanting to coach football, he’d rather teach kids Rafi’s age than high schoolers. They were still innocent—they hadn’t been ruined by life yet.

  But even Rafi knew that his family was different because they were Muslim. At least the cafeteria ladies at his school had learned not to serve him pork. It was a balancing act, preparing a child for the discrimination he might face without instilling fear.

  Their father came downstairs wearing gray khakis and a blue knit shirt. Like Waseem, he had dark, curly hair, but his was graying. His beard was neat and trim. Square wireframe glasses offset the roundness of his face.

  They gathered in the dining room for the day’s feast. His mother, her long dark hair hanging loose at her shoulders, foisted biscuits and eggs on everyone. Her eyes teared up a few times during the meal, and Waseem had to fight his own sadness. He loved his big, noisy family, and the warmth they shared.

  Eisa, tall for her age but too giggly to be mistaken for someone older, talked nearly nonstop—mostly about boy bands and what her friends had been texting about on Snapchat. Aliyah tried to steer her toward a more serious subject.

  “Let her have her fun,” their mother advised. “You’re only young once. She’s got plenty of time to worry about the influence of Marx and Lenin on Ho Chi Minh.”

  This was the subject Aliyah and Waseem had debated the night before. Aliyah had argued that the Vietnam War might have been avoided if the U.S. had embraced Ho Chi Minh’s vision of a communist democracy. Whereas Waseem held that communism and democracy were intrinsically incompatible.

  It had been a light-hearted debate, since Waseem’s family liked to laugh and preferred learning from one another to winning arguments. They rarely took a hardline stance on issues except where justice was concerned, preferring to look at all sides and find compromises.

  Solidarity was important to them, because discrimination was an ever-present threat. The older children had learned from their parents how to explain Islam to their friends when they
expressed a genuine interest, as well as the futility of engaging haters who had already committed to ignorance.

  Waseem had worried that coming out would create a rift with his family, but nothing like that had happened. His parents had educated themselves about the teachings of the Qur’an on the subject, as well as the scientific evidence. After a lot of soul-searching, they had accepted Waseem’s orientation without reservation. He’d been Eisa’s age when he first came out, so now it was just normal to them.

  Emotion clutched his chest. Part of him didn’t want to leave to go back to college. He missed his friends and loved his studies, but family was his anchor. His time away had taught him to appreciate them more. He was astonished by Aliyah’s intellect, entranced by the beauty of Eisa’s eyes, warmed by the exuberant interplay between Rafi and Tamir, appreciative and often overwhelmed by his parents’ love and generosity.

  All the things had taken for granted—or never even noticed, really—as a teenager now added a sharp edge of regret to his upcoming trek back to school. Now, time with his family was precious and always too short.

  ***

  Waseem had just finished unpacking the clothes he’d brought back to the dorm after winter break when a voice called from the hall. “Waseem!”

  He turned to see Brent rushing in through the open doorway. The guy tackled him and they fell onto the bed, laughing.

  “What in the hell?”

  “Sorry,” Brent said. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too.” Waseem looked up into those beautiful golden-brown eyes. He loved the sharp angles of Brent’s face—the high cheekbones, the square jaw, the symmetrical ridge of his nose. But Waseem couldn’t stay like this, with Brent on top of him. His whole body ached for the guy. He’d be sporting wood soon if he didn’t move.

  So he rose to a seated position and said in a light tone, “Maybe you should be more careful about getting into bed with me, after what happened the last time we were together.”

  Brent smiled and sat up beside him. “I thought we were never supposed to speak of that.”

  “We’re not.” Waseem’s stomach tightened. He hated joking with Brent about it, like it hadn’t meant anything to him. In fact, it had meant a lot. Waseem could hardly think of anything else. The entire three-week break, he’d fantasized about Brent. He hated it. Brent couldn’t return those feelings. And besides, he had a girlfriend—

  “Karen and I broke up.”

  Waseem looked at him and blinked. “What?” Was the guy reading his mind or something?

  “Yeah, apparently, the long-distance thing wasn’t working for her. She wants to date someone closer. So it’s over.”

  Waseem’s stomach clenched. His heart vacillated between the desire to be a supportive friend and the empty hope that maybe he and Brent could have something together after all. “You two have been together since you were sixteen, right? Maybe it would be good to take a break for a while, see other people—”

  “No. We’re done. After the way she ended things, I don’t trust her anymore.”

  Waseem patted Brent’s shoulder. “Aw, dude, I’m sorry.”

  “I should find someone else.”

  Waseem’s chest grew heavy, but he was determined to be strong for his friend. “Nothing cheers up a guy like rebound sex.”

  “Oh, gross. I don’t want to hook up with some random. I’m a relationship kind of guy.”

  Waseem shook his head. “You were with Karen for five years. It takes time to get over something like that.”

  “I’m over Karen. It’s not like I was in love with her.”

  “You were talking about marrying her.”

  Brent tapped his fist against the open palm of his other hand. “After we broke up, I realized that was just a lack of imagination. I’ve never thought about being with someone else—but it’s time I started.” Brent bumped his shoulder against Waseem’s. “You could be my wingman.”

  Waseem nodded, anxiety gripping his stomach. “Sure.” Kill me now.

  ***

  Early the next morning, Waseem stood outside the dorm with Jake, Emmett’s boyfriend. They stretched while waiting for their friend Amber to join them for their run. She’d overslept, which she never did, so Waseem tried not to mind. Normally he was a morning person, but already he was having a bad day.

  January in North Carolina tended to be mild, and they were experiencing a freak warm streak. Waseem liked that about living in the South. But even the fresh air and the streaks of pink and orange clouds couldn’t shake him out of this funk.

  It had only been a dream that put him in this mood, but it was maybe the best dream of his life. He and Brent were in bed at the hotel again, only this time, they were kissing. Brent’s body was warm and comfortable, and his hands roamed over Waseem as he whispered words of love. The dream was intensely sexual, but that’s not what stuck with Waseem. He’d been so happy. Waking up had left him bereft.

  His feelings for Brent weren’t just a crush. They’d grown deeper. And that was no good. Because even though Brent wasn’t with Karen anymore, he was still straight.

  Waseem couldn’t keep these feelings inside. He needed to talk to someone, and Jake was the obvious choice. He was a trustworthy guy who always had Waseem’s back, and he’d been through the same thing before Emmett realized he was bi.

  Waseem looked over at his friend. Jake’s blond hair shone in the pale morning light. The guy was slim and medium height—not Waseem’s type—but ridiculously handsome. The two had been tight since practically the moment they met freshman year, and had cruised the bars together until Jake and Emmett hooked up.

  It was awesome that Waseem’s two best friends were dating each other, but sometimes lonely. Seeing them together cemented his feeling that he was ready for something more serious. But this time, he’d be more careful. He wouldn’t let himself be fooled again the way he had been with Garon.

  “Jake, look, can I talk to you—”

  Waseem’s mouth clamped shut when a curvy young woman wandered by, looking at a campus map. He didn’t want the whole campus hearing his business. He thought she’d be just a second, but instead, she stopped, started in the other direction, turned back, then stopped again.

  Rather than letting himself get annoyed, he decided he should be a stand-up guy and help. “You lost?” he called.

  “Not lost. I know where I am.” Her voice radiated a sort of misplaced confidence. “I just have no idea how to get where I’m going.”

  Waseem chuckled. He liked her attitude. Ivory skinned with straight, shoulder-length dark hair and tortoiseshell glasses, she looked like one of those geek girls in the movies who turned out to be gorgeous once she’d put on some makeup and a dress. A double strand of turquoise beads hung from her neck, and her denim jacket sported a patchwork peace sign.

  “Where are you headed?”

  “Student union.”

  Waseem nodded. “It’s not far, just the other side of the quad.”

  “Where’s the quad?”

  Jake looked up at him, eyebrows arched.

  “Why don’t you come with us?” Waseem suggested. “We’re headed in that direction.”

  Her eyes shuttered, her joking smile disappearing. “I don’t know…”

  Waseem knew that tone. He had sisters, after all. He should have been more thoughtful—he wouldn’t want them walking with two random guys on a nearly deserted campus just after dawn.

  “It’s okay, we won’t bite,” Jake said. “We’re gay.”

  Her eyes wandered to the sign over the dorm’s front entrance, the one that said Harmony Hall. It seemed to lend credence to their claim, since the dorm fostered a spirit of diversity. She let down her guard a little.

  “How do I know you aren’t just saying that, so you can lure me into your evil clutches?”

  Jake asked, “You ever hear of Emmett Cross, the quarterback? He’s my boyfriend.”

  She gasped, and her expression transformed to one of unabashed exciteme
nt. “That’s why you look familiar! I’m like, totally in love with him! Well, not like you’re in love with him, but I’m a huge fan. He’s so sexy—I mean, talented. And he has the cutest butt.”

  Waseem bit back a smile.

  The door opened, and Amber stepped outside. Her purple track suit complemented her complexion, dark golden-brown like burnt ochre. Her hair, styled in loose spirals of curls, was bunched up and flowing over a magenta headband. Full lips curved into a smile when she saw them.

  “Amber, come meet our new friend,” Waseem said. “This is…”

  “Claire,” said the brunette. “Huge football fan.”

  “Good to meet you.” Amber squeezed Claire’s hand in both of hers. “I’m not so much a fan of the game as I am of the players.”

  “I like both!” Claire’s excitement seemed to rev up a notch. “I’m new here, and I don’t know my way around yet, so these guys said I could walk with them to the quad.” Claire turned to Waseem and Jake, then squinted. “Oh my goodness, you’re Waseem, aren’t you! That pass you caught on New Year’s—that was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. I wish I’d transferred a semester earlier so I could have said you guys were my team.”

  “Thanks.” Waseem fist-bumped her.

  They started walking and Jake said. “We’re going for a run with some guys from the football team. Do you want to meet Emmett?”

  “No way!” Claire cried. “Could I?”

  “Of course.”

  “Will he mind if I ask for his autograph? I must have something he can sign in my backpack.” Her Hello Kitty backpack reminded Waseem of the one his sister Eisa had used in middle school. “And Waseem,” she continued, “could I get your autograph, too, and a picture of me with you and Emmett? That would be amazing, like a dream come true! I would Instagram that so hard. My friends back at Pittsburgh would be so jealous.”