Page 43 of Catching Kyle

“Kyle, I’m getting uncomfortable. You’re going to have to tell me or else—”

“Something happened this past week,” he said in a voice more devastatingly serious than I’ve heard from him. “Something back home.”

“Are you okay?” I ask. For a second, I thought he was trying to change the subject. But this feels like he’s providing an explanation.

He looks right at me, his hands steepled just below his chin. He grabs the Cat Sebastian book from his armrest. “This book,” he croaks, his voice warbling. “This book helped me see things I’ve never been able to see before. In myself.”

My insides warm, and I lean forward in anticipation. I get the feeling Kyle’s about to tell me something deeply important and personal.

“My whole life, I’ve never been able to be myself around women. It was like this dark storm cloud formed in my mind every time I was alone with one. My dad—bless him—was often there for me, but he said I had to push through it. So I tried. And it only made things worse.

“For so long, I swore there was something wrong with me. Like I had some illness or whatever. I told myself I couldn’t have been queerness—I played football, and I was damn good at it. And I was masculine as hell. The queers I were seeing were all skinny and small and dressing up in frilly colors. That wasn’t me. There was something else—something else I needed to do to get over this problem.”

As Kyle talks, tears have been pouring from his eyes. I take napkins from the bag and slide them his way. He grabs them with one of his bulky, hairy arms, and wipes his red eyes.

“But I couldn’t keep my eyes off men,” he says. “And in college, I even hooked up with other guys at Miss U in secret. We all fucked like crazy.”

My insides twist around themselves. The image of Kyle fucking somebody else—other football players for Christ’s sake—is an image my mind does not have bandwidth to render.

“But when I signed pro, I had to give that up. I couldn’t stomach dating women. So, I stayed single, focusing on my skills. And that’s when I turned to porn.”

My stomach churns. So that means…

“I eventually found your content, and—” he sniffles “—I’m sorry if this sounds creepy, but I just couldn’t keep my eyes off you. You are just such a goddamn beautiful man.”

Warm trickles from the top of my spine down to my toes, like stepping into a hot shower on a cold day.

This entire time, Kyle Weaver has thought I’m just as hot as I think him. And I get chills when I think that he’s probably watched most of my videos at this point, if not all.

He shakes his head and rubs his bear arms, still crying. “Awh, man. What am I going to do. What am I going to do.”

And I do the only thing I can think to do—the same that was done for me by my high school English teacher when I came out to her.

I stand up, walk around the coffee table, and sit right next to him. Before he can lift his head to look at me, I wrap my arms tightly around him and give him the biggest bear hug that I can.

He stiffens for a moment, then melts into my embrace. And that’s when he starts to sob, and his entire body shakes. I hold him there as long as my arms can take, stroking his hairy upper arm with my knuckles.

“Cry it out,” I say. “Just let it out.”

Eventually, he lifts his head, and I unwrap my arms. We both make eye contact, his eyes red and swollen from crying. He looks slowly between my eyes and my lips.

He moves his arm around me, forcing me to fall into his chest. His hand slides down to the point just above my ass, and my mind is screaming for it to continue downward.

He pulls me closer, and I don’t resist. Our noses touch again, sending electricity down my spine.

I can feel his warm breath on my lips. Then our lips touch just briefly, as if we’re both just testing this whole thing out.

Then his lips press harder into mine, and his warm tongue extends, begging to break through my lips.

This is ecstasy. Or at least it should be—kissing the sexiest man I know.

But it’s wrong.

I put my hand on his huge leg and push myself away from him. He releases his arm and looks at me, mortified.

“Kyle, this isn’t a good idea.”

“Do you not want this?” he asks,confused.