Page 4 of Catching Kyle

This is so discouraging. I miss our college days where I could see how my writing improved with each piece, where every week I could get with my writing group and learn and grow with fellow writers. Growing up neglected, this was like finding an oasis in a desert when all I was used to was sand. I want to have this again—the sense of community that comes with writing. I see published authors, both big and small, developing intimate relationships with each other, the same kinds of relationships I cherished in college. But I don’t personally have that anymore, and with how hard it is to find writing friends, it feels like the only way for me to get this again is by getting published. Amani’s great, but she hardly has time to read my stuff, and it feels like she’s all but given up her dream to be a published author. And with her feedback, the dream of finally having this intimate community again feels farther away than ever.

“You’re getting that sad look,” she says. “Your face gets all droopy and you get quiet. The one you make when you get feedback you don’t like.”

I let out a sharp laugh. “Well what’s there to like? I don’t even know where to start to make my romance deeper. And it’s not like I’m chasing after unavailable men right now. So I don’t know why my romance is so bad.”

“Again,” Amani says, finishing her fries. “It’s not bad. It could just use some zest.”

I laugh, hopeless. “What does that even mean?”

She reaches into her pocket. “I’m so glad I grabbed this.” She puts a card on the table and slides it to me. There are butterflies, roses, and a straight couple kissing on it.

I pick it up. “This is…?”

“You know Ruckers?”

The cool new indie bookstore in Portland. “Of course I do.”

“They have a romance book club that’s so popular it meets weekly. And it’s eclectic. You’ll get your Nora Roberts fans, your Sarah J. Maas fans. The whole gamut.”

I furrow my brow at her. “How did you know about this?”

She laughs. “I went the other day to pick up a book when they had their meeting. Their cackles resonated throughout the whole store. You know how some romance readers are. I bet most of those women are reading more than one a day. Didn’t interest me much, but I figured I’d grab one of their cards.”

I glance down at the card. In iridescent font, it has the address of the bookstore as well as some authors they regularly read. All authors I’ve enjoyed, many of whom write gay stuff.

“I love discussing books as much as the next, but you really think this will help?”

Her eyes widen as if I’ve grown a second head. “What better way to learn how to how to write compelling romance than from its biggest fans?”

I sigh, then shrug. The next meeting is this Friday, and the card says they’re discussing Pride and Prejudice. “Sure, why the hell not. I’m always down for a Jane Austen reread.”

“Who knows,” Amani says, sipping the last of her drink. “Maybe you’ll find a special someone.”

I fake gag. “With my luck? It’ll just be some fuckboy.”

She shrugs. “You never know.”

Chapter 2

Kyle Weaver

I’vealreadybeenworkingout for almost two hours today, but it isn’t enough. If I had been fast enough, I could have made it to the end zone. I could have won the Tigers a Championship Game. I could have kept my promise to my dad.

I push the sled to the end of the forty-yard lane in our practice facility, and I turn it around to do another cycle.

“Hey, man, you need to take it easy.” Ezekiel says. My wide receiver walks over to me, shirtless, his sweat dripping down his dark-skinned abs. He pulls his dreads back and ties them up.

I wipe my sweat-drenched face with my towel, yet the movement just causes my sweat to drop through my beard onto the floor. I take a seat on the sled, still breathing heavy.

“You’re still pissed,” Ezekiel says.

“Of course I’m pissed,” I say. “Wouldn’t you be? I fuck up our chance at winning the Championship Game, and the media hasn’t shut up about who I might be sleeping with. We were so close.”

“I know,” he says, sitting down on the turf next to me. There are some other guys working out nearby, but they’re doing their own thing. “But it’s not really your fault. You know that. We’re a team, Kyle. It’s on all of us.”

I just grunt.

“Hey!” Ezekiel shouts. The five other players in the gym look up at us.