Page 18 of Catching Kyle (Football Heartthrobs #1)

Michael Cunningham

I swallow the food that feels like cement in my throat, unable to fathom what I just heard.

“What did you just say?” I ask, gripping the armrest of Kyle’s couch.

Kyle’s as pale as a ghost. “I said I can’t wait to read your next installment.”

“No,” I say, firm as ever. “What you said after that.”

Kyle audibly swallows. But says nothing.

“You referred to my video,” I say, leaning forward on the couch. “What video?”

He runs his tongue along the inside of his lip and looks around.

“What video, Kyle?” I ask.

My heart is nearly beating out my chest. My latest video—if that’s what he really said, which I’m nearly 100% sure he did—is of Greg fucking me. And he’s right: I did look sad in that video. But the only way for him to have known about that…

He leans forward, pulling on his beard, staring into space. Saying nothing.

“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.

“I—of course I want this,” I say, shaking my head. I push myself slightly farther away so I’m not tempted to let him put his arm around me again.

“Jesus, you know I’ve thought the same about you?” I ask. “For years, I’ve jerked off to whatever pictures or videos of you I can get. You’re fucking sculpted by the gods, Kyle.”

Though he just wept his eyes out, he manages a smile. “No wonder you lost it when I took my shirt off.”

I laugh, wiping away my sympathy tears. “No shit,” I say.

Then he frowns. “But why not?”

I slump back. “You just came out, Kyle. This is a sacred moment for you, and you have no idea how vulnerable you are. I’m not going to take advantage of you. God, I shouldn’t have even kissed you.”

Kyle falls back into the couch, slightly annoyed. “So what now then? I come out but then I’m not able to celebrate it?”

I want to get closer to him and rub his arm to comfort him, but that would just encourage what I’m trying to avoid.

“Of course you can celebrate it,” I say. “But it’s not healthy to just jump into having sex. You’re fragile right now. I won’t do that to you.”

Kyle lets out a sharp laugh, as if someone like him could be fragile. He runs his tongue around the inside of his mouth, then sighs. “I see. You’re a bigger person than me for holding yourself back.”

I shrug. “It’s what I’d want for myself.”

For a moment, we sit in silence. And then he turns his head slightly to me. And God, from this angle, his handsome profile makes me almost want to go back on what I said. Almost.

“I’ll tell you what,” he says. “You give me a week to process this. And then I want you to come back at your normal time.”

I relax into the couch. “Are you sure?”

He nods. “Positive.”

Butterflies of excitement flutter around my stomach. I just kissed Kyle Weaver. And he’s gay! He said so himself. But I need to give him the space he deserves. He probably has so many thoughts overwhelming him .

I have to admit I’m more than thrilled that he wants me back over next week.

But he could change his mind. Lord knows how many times I’ve scheduled a date or hookup with some guy, only for him to cancel last minute or completely stand me up.

That’s how all these emotionally unavailable guys have been.

But something about Kyle tells me he’ll be different.

He’s always kept his word, and with how honest he just was, I can’t help but think he’ll be true to it.

Ah, who am I kidding. I shouldn’t keep my hopes up.

“I better be going then,” I say before either of us are tempted to go back on our forbearance. I pick up my leftover food, then pause. “You can have the rest of mine.”

Kyle does a gesture of supplication, showing off his thick arms. “Thank you,” he says.

I nod, then collect the rest of my things. I plop my own copy of the Cat Sebastian of my book, briefly marveling that one book had such an effect on Kyle. And then I make my way to the door.

“Oh, and I have one request,” Kyle says.

I stop and turn, sliding on his perfectly polished floors. “Yes?”

He stares at me, the swelling around his eyes having reduced a little. Though disheveled, he looks free, like a weight is off his shoulders. Happier.

“Please don’t post anymore content,” he says.

I squint at him for a second, and then recognition quickly dawns on me.

“If you need the money, just ask, I just—” He leans his elbow on his knee and trills his lips. “The thought of you with someone else right now—”

“I think I can go a week without posting,” I say, unable to hide my grin. Kyle Weaver. Jealous .

He nods dramatically, biting his lip. “Thank you.”

And then, with his desire for me as intense as it could be, I leave, knowing that next week my greatest fantasy might come true.