Page 11 of Josh’s Play

He rose, and I liked looking up at him. It was so different from when we were both standing. We were silent for moments on end, my heart pounding, an ocean in my ears. The only thing keeping me grounded was the connection to his clear blue eyes.

He leaned in, slowly, watching me the whole way, looking for my reaction, seeking permission. I froze. Not reacting but not moving away. It felt like an eternity as his face moved closer and closer. My lips tingled in anticipation of meeting his. He was right there, our eyes locked, a swoon-worthy combination of heat, care, and worry in his. He studied mine, looking for an answer to an unspoken question.

He kissed my cheek with soft, gentle lips, that lemon smell calming me even as my heart pounded in my chest.

It was just a rose-petal soft brush of his lips on my stubbled cheek, but it was the closest I’d ever been to another man, to a man I was attracted to, in my entire life.

He kept his face close, speaking directly in my ear as if he knew that the things we had not said in that room were things that could only be whispered, never spoken outright.

“It’s okay, Cam. I understand. You have my number if you ever want to talk.”

I convinced myself that I’d imagined the pause before he said talk. Convinced myself that he wasn’t trying to say something else, something more.

He stood then, a sweet smile firmly in place. That untucked hipster shirt straining just a little over his chest as he righted himself.

“It was really nice to meet you, Fifty-Nine. Maybe … Yeah, I’ll see you around.”

He took two backward steps, still looking at me. I knew he was giving me the opportunity to respond. I dropped my head instead, my turn to stare at the ghost of two men holding hands. Peripherally I could see his nod and his sad smile as he walked out of the room and left me alone.

I had long ago convinced myself that I would have to be alone. My high school girlfriend and I broke up after our senior winter formal. She’d been a friend, and a part of me had hoped that friendship would be enough to sustain a relationship. But I couldn’t go through with it. I just couldn’t live with a lie that affected someone else, so I’d settled for the one that hurt only me. It wouldn’t be so bad, I’d convinced myself back then, not if the end result was that I got to play hockey, if I got to do what I loved and help my family along the way. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make.

Except as I watched Joshua Marchetti-Gordon leave that room, the sacrifice never felt more real or more wrong.

Chapter Five

Josh

It was not my first rodeo, as they say.

I was lucky, and I knew it. I came out when I was fifteen. Thanks to my older brother Vance, I didn’t even really have to think about it or stress about it. He’d been the one to muster up the bravery to say, “Mom, Dad, I’m gay.” I got to ride his coattails with a, “Hey, me too!”

My parents were beyond supportive, and I’d been out and proud ever since. It was such a nonissue for our family that Hunter hadn’t felt the need for a dramatic coming out, he just brought a teammate home from baseball camp last summer and introduced him as his boyfriend.

My best friend, Devon, had had a similar experience to mine. Coming out at fifteen to supportive parents.

But I knew our experiences were not the same as everyone’s. Times were better, or at least they had been getting better, but not for all queer people.

When Cam said that the picture of three boys in matching Christmas sweaters with coordinating hats and scarves had been taken on his family’s farm, it told me all I needed to know. A small town even further in middle-of-nowhere New York than our little college town? A family farm? A sports hero with a full scholarship?

Campbell Ryan had been giving me mixed signals from the moment we met. But it wasn’t because he hadn’t felt the same spark as me; it was because he had.

I fought my way out of the crowded house, not running into a single person I knew, and cut through campus to get back home.

For my entire existence, I had grown up with Hampstead University as the backdrop to my life. Campbell Ryan wasn’t the first closeted athlete I’d run into over the years. Truth be told, I was known as a bit of a player, and having HU as a playground was a wonderful thing for a young gay man coming into his own.

As I was growing up, I looked toward my two eldest brothers as examples of adulthood. Dad had had Jamie and AJ with his first wife, and they were quite a bit older than me, so of course I idolized them both when I was younger.

Jamie met the love of his life, Anna, when they were both still kids, and they were together until she passed away a few years ago. Their story was romantic and heart-wrenching.

AJ was a firefighter in Brooklyn. He'd never settled down and was known to be a bit of a player himself. Apparently, he and his best friend used their hero status to play wingman for each other with women, to great success, according to the men themselves.

For a young gay boy who wanted to experience all life had to offer, the choice was easy. I wanted to be more an AJ than a Jamie.

When I met Devon, it just solidified my choice. Dev and I became best friends, always there for each other. We’d even lived together since freshman year. So except for what happened behind the metaphorical bedroom door, I had a best friend, almost just like Jamie had had Anna. But I also got to have the kind of adventures AJ did, and so did Devon for that matter, both of us burning up the hookup apps and having safe, filthy fun with nothing, and no one, tying us down.

My adventures meant that I occasionally ran into someone in the closet. A lot of the closeted types were people visiting the campus, who figured it was safer to sneak around and experiment in a strange town, away from family, friends, and routine. Another big closet-case category? Athletes.

When I leaned in to kiss Campbell, I had genuinely not made up my mind what I was going to do. Based on our flirty banter, the hand holding, and the way he’d dragged me to his room, I figured that I could have pushed him down onto his bed and convinced him to let go for a few quick minutes there in his self-imposed closet. Walking away from him and out into the balmy night, I tried to figure out why I hadn’t done just that. I could practically hear my anthropomorphized dick sputtering the same question at me in anger.