Page 69 of Catching Kyle

“I’d like that,” I say. “Maybe one day.”

We lay there for a while as he starts readingThe Love Hypothesis.

“You got any plans for today?” he asks me.

I sigh. I gotta call Timmy and explain to him how I don’t have a picture of a girl yet. Jeez.

“I need to update my agent on my dating life,” I say.

Michael sets down the book, and I can feel his heartrate increase. He turns around, our hairy chests touching.

“What will you tell him?”

I look into Michael’s hazel eyes. Iwantto tell him that this girl I’ve been seeing is actually this wonderful guy with a red mullet who fucks like a siren and has an even bigger heart. But I’m not ready for that.

“I don’t know,” I say, wiping my eyes.

He sighs, disappointed I can tell, but he says nothing. After all, I did tell him that it would take time to make a decision, and I couldn’t be pressured. He’s respecting that. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be sad about it.

He starts playing with one of my hands, stroking each of my fingers, digging into my knuckles. Massaging them. But he does it so gently, like my hand is as fragile as a hummingbird.

I can’t lose this man.

“Can I take you to breakfast?” I ask.

“Brunch?” he asks, light coming back to his eyes.

I chuckle. “Yeah, brunch. Is that what the gays call it?”

He rolls his eyes. “Breakfast is when you go to the cracker barrel at 8AM on a road trip. Brunch is for warm Sunday mornings after you’ve had the best sex of your life.”

“That was the best sex of your life?” I ask, surprised. But honored. “I’ve only had sex with a few other men. And not that many women. I’ve seen most if not all of your videos. Your body count is stacked compared to mine.”

He pouts. “Are you calling me a whore?”

I reach around and grab his ass. “Only if you want me to.”

He bites his lip. “Yeah. Brunch sounds nice. We could maybe have some fun first,” he says, his dick hard against me. “That will only make waffles taste better.”

I frown. “Well, the only place that will have us is that restaurant I took you to last night,” I say.

He looks like I’ve just popped a balloon right in his face. “The one where we ate in secret?”

I search his eyes for that excitement he just had, but it’s long gone. “Yeah, is that a problem?”

He sighs and stops playing with my hand. “It’s just that—we can’t…” He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t need to. I already know.

I stretch my leg around him, pulling him closer. I kiss him on the forehead, and he gazes foreword to my chest, his eyes busy. He’s thinking. And I can guess what about. This bedroom is one of the few places we can be ourselves unless I decide to come out. And if I choose football, then we can’t see each other at all. I’ll have to find some girl. Michael’s mentioned before how much he’s wanted a legitimate, healthy relationship. Is it healthy for him to date me in secret? Only for me to potentially dump him for my career?

His dick has softened, and so has mine. But I still hold him close. Damnit. Why can’t I just make him happy?

He turns away, and my chest sinks.

“Will you please hold me?” he asks.

And I do so eagerly, giving the back of his neck three small kisses.

He picks up the Ali Hazelwood book and starts reading again. I rest my head and close my eyes, letting myself drift off. At least here it feels like time doesn’t exist. Nor does the outside world. I feel myself get sleepy breathing in Michael’s scent. If only we could stay here forever—