I mean, to be fair, I have no idea what my sexuality even is. I don’t really look at people that way. I can definitely acknowledge if someone is attractive, man or woman. Still, unless there’schemistry, I have no interest in anything sexual. What does that make me? Who knows.
“Um, hello. Sorry, I just walked over here to clear my head. I honestly had no idea anyone was here,” mutters Carter.
I’m shocked by how self-conscious, or maybe just quiet, he seems. I’ve never met the guy, but you can only imagine what a college football player might be like.
"Hi, you don't have to be sorry. I'm just chilling, prepping for a few songs I'm playing in thirty minutes. Honestly, I'm trying to take a breather and get out of my head. I'm calming my nerves. Who wouldn't be nervous playing a few Ed Sheeran songs for a bunch of drunk college kids? Am I right?"
“One, I feel you there. Two, how the hell can you do this sober, let alone at all? I can barely speak in front of people. I’ve actually taken letter-grade reductions on final papers so that I didn’t have to present. How pathetic am I?” Carter giggles.
“Funny, because I also freak out presenting in class, but I rarely get anxious when I’m singing. My preference is performing for strangers, but I can handle acquaintances like tonight,” I explain.
“Props to you. I’d need maybe five thousand dollars and a Xanax to sing for three minutes tonight. No amount of money could make me perform for a half hour in front of my team,” Carter laughs.
"You know, it helps that I busked in Philly and Brooklyn the past few years. It may sound unusual, but you can earn a substantial amount of money by busking. I'm not sure if people like my music or just feel sorry for me, but I honestly don't care. Give me that money, please," I smile.
As Carter looks at me smiling, I can’t help but feel more at ease. Sitting here alone in the dark on this itchy hammock had been depressing. I already feel lighter, which will definitely help in about twenty-five minutes.
“So, Carter...why aren’t you with your friends? I mean, this seems exactly like your scene.”
Carter opens his mouth, then shuts it. He takes a breath and confesses, “I’m friends with most of these people, and it’s hard to explain, but I get overwhelmed at events like this. The crowd, the heat in these poorly ventilated houses, the constant scream-talking; it can all be a lot. I start sweating from anxiety, which is why I’m out here. I walked toward the hammock to get some air...and here we are.”
This conversation is more interesting than I expected. I can see glimpses of humor in Carter, but also vulnerability. Who would've guessed that Mr. Football Star gets anxious at parties? I definitely feel the urge to share more about myself as well.
"Well, I completely get it. I sing at these events for extra money, but I dislike large groups of people. I have four siblings, including my twin, Evan, who also goes to this school. Evan and a few others are basically my only friends here. I don't blame you; smaller groups feel more real. This party's just a noisy mess."
"I'm glad I'm not the only one. My friend Becky is inside, probably bopping around and hooking up with some guy. She barely knows anyone here, but she's always on. I love her; she's a ball of energy and a gleaming ray of sunshine. I envy her. Don't get me wrong, I'm hyper, too, and borderline nuts, but it depends on the group. And if I'm being honest, I hate the pressure my friends put on me to hook up with girls. The pressure itself makes me lose interest."
After Carter explains that, I feel the need to share how I relate to that kind of pressure, too. I shift from the left side of the hammock and motion for him to sit on the right side.
As he sits beside me, I say, "I know this might be too much information, but I get it. When I attend parties, I feel women staring at me as if I'm supposed to make a move. But truthfully,I'm not interested. I like meeting people first, and sex or even making out may come later, if at all. I'm also not sure what I'm into. I don't focus on a person's gender. I focus on whether there's chemistry."
I’m not sure if I’m imagining it, but I see a twinkle in Carter’s eye. I don’t know if it’s desire or just genuine curiosity. Either way, I’m curious what he’ll say next.
Carter smirks nervously and responds, “Well, look at you, Mr. Open Book. I’m usually a word-vomit type of guy. Still, for some reason, I’m trying to behave around you and not spew the usual nonsense. It’s easy talking to you, maybe because I just met you. If we’re being open, I feel that pressure all the time to get with girls. I’ve done everything with them, but that doesn’t mean I’ve enjoyed it. When it comes to sex, my dick basically turns into a limp noodle, and boom; I pull the anxiety card. It has always worked, but...I don’t want to keep doing that.”
I ask bluntly, “Do you think you’re just not into sex at all? Or do you think it’s possible...that you just don’t want sex with girls?”
I don't feel any shame asking. I barely know him, but I'm curious. And surprisingly, maybe even interested.
I have to go inside in five minutes, but I need to know his answer. He’s clearly contemplating what to say, so I blurt out, “You don’t have to answer that. And just so you know, I wouldn’t tell a soul, even if you did. I know this kind of conversation might not be welcome in the football world.”
Carter looks at me, chugs his beer, and nervously replies, “I don’t talk about this with anyone because of the risk of being outed or labeled. I’ve thought about guys sexually before, but I don’t even know if I’d like it.”
I respond quickly, “I have to go inside, but I want to try something. I want to kiss you. Just take it for what it is. You can say no, but I want you to know what it’s like to kiss a guy.What better person to do that with than someone you won’t see again?”
Before I can ramble more, Carter slowly leans in and kisses me. His smooth tongue opens my mouth, surprisingly bold. I feel his tongue meet mine, moving in slow, confident circles.
The initial nerves I sensed from him have faded. Now, it feels like he might actually be enjoying this. And I think I might be, too. I wondered if he could feel my pants tightening, because I could definitely feel his excitement pressing against my leg.
Even though I don't want it to end, I pull away and say abruptly, "I have to go inside, but I hope that helped you understand what you might want. Enjoy the show. And get another drink; the drunker, the better. It's easier to play cover songs when the crowd's too tipsy to pay attention."
Carter responds with a quick "Okay."
With that, I get up from the hammock and start to walk away. But just as I’m out of earshot, I call back, “My name’s Nate, by the way!”
As I keep walking, I'm thinking about that kiss, wondering why I liked it so much. And whether he liked it just as much as I did.
Carter
