Page 23 of No More Jocks

I flexed my fingers, expecting the usual throb of pain, but it was barely there. The ache had dulled to a light soreness, a background noise to the turmoil in my head. I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Caleb, and headed to the bathroom. I needed ice, something to numb the swelling in my hand and the whirlwind of thoughts in my mind.

Grabbing the ice bucket and keycard from the table, I turned on my phone. A flurry of text messages popped up, but it was the most recent one that sent a shiver down my spine, freezing me in place.

Unknown: I know your secret. I know you like to have sex with men. Meet me at your house in twenty minutes, or I’ll release the photos of you making out with another dude.

Fear gripped me, its icy tendrils snaking around my heart. Who was this mystery person? How did they get my number? Did someone see us at school or follow us to the hotel? A thousand questions raced through my mind, each one more terrifying than the last.

With trembling fingers, I texted back.

Marcus: Who the fuck is this?

I waited, breath held, but no response came. The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the pounding of my heart. I knew I had to go home, had to face this head-on. I couldn't risk those photos getting out. My scholarship, my football career, my entire future was on the line.

I glanced back at Caleb, his form silhouetted in the dim light. I didn't want to leave him, not after what we'd shared, but I had no choice. I'd explain it to him later; he'd understand. I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, his skin warm against my lips.

Slowly, carefully, I extricated myself from the bed, my breath as Caleb stirred slightly before settling back into a deep sleep. His soft snores filled the room, a comforting sound that made my heart ache. I dressed quickly, each movement filled with a sense of urgency and dread.

The hotel room door clicked shut behind me, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. It was 4:00 a.m., and the world was quiet, the stillness broken only by the distant hum of the city. I prayed my mom was still sleeping, that I could slip in and out without her knowing. Caleb didn't have strict parents, but I did. If my mother found out I'd spent the night with a boy in a hotel, there'd be hell to pay.

The Uber ride was a blur, the streets passing by in a streak of shadows and light. As we pulled up to my house, my heart sank. A police car sat outside, its red and blue lights flashing ominously.

My mother stood on the porch, her white nightgown and shower cap stark against the darkness. Beside her was my brother Brandon, his face a mask of concern.

Two officers approached me as I stepped out of the Uber. One was Caucasian, burly with a thick mustache, looking to be in his late 40s or early 50s. His name tag read 'Officer Cunningham'. The other looked biracial, a mix of black and white, with a lean muscular build similar to mine. His name tag read 'Officer Kennedy'.

"Are you Marcus Jennings?" Officer Cunningham asked, his voice gruff.

"Yes, I am. What is going on?" My voice was steady, but inside, I was a mess of nerves and fear.

"You're under arrest for the assault and battery of Bradley Simmons; get in the car." He grabbed my hands, cuffing them behind my back before pushing me into the back seat.

My mother's voice cut through the night, sharp and accusing. "This is why I told you to be in the house before 10:00 p.m. After 10:00 p.m. are the devil’s hours. Now, how am I supposed to get the money to get you out, Marcus?"

Brandon stepped forward, pulling my mother away as tears streamed down her face. Seeing her cry tore at my heart. She'd had a hard life, and I'd promised her this wouldn't happen again after the last fight. And here I was, in more trouble than ever.

"Don’t worry, Marcus, we’ll get the money," Brandon said, his voice firm with resolve.

As I peered through the darkness, I caught a glimpse of a familiar face emerging from the shadows. Bradley. His eye was swollen shut, a nasty bruise spreading across his face. So, he was the one behind the text message, his sick attempt to break up Caleb and me.

Anger surged within me, hot and fierce. Anger at my own stupidity for punching him in front of everyone, at the very real possibility of ruining my career, and at the thought that I might not be the man Caleb deserved. My brother walked over to the cop car, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.

"Her pussy better be fire for you to be doing all this shit. Don’t worry about bail. I got you," Brandon said, trying to lighten the mood in his own way.

"Could you stay with Mom and calm her down? The last thing I need is for her blood pressure to rise," I said, my voice heavy with worry.

"I’ll handle Mom. Oh, and good job on fucking homeboy’s face up. Remind me never to get into a fight with you." Brandon's attempt at humor fell flat, but I appreciated the effort.

"Thanks, I guess," I replied, though my heart wasn't in it. My football career was on the brink of being over, and as soon as Caleb woke up and realized that I had left him alone after our first time having penetrative sex, my relationship with him would likely be over as well. "Fuck!"

I muttered, banging my head against the window in frustration.

The cop car sped through the empty streets, the flashing lights casting eerie shadows on the buildings we passed. I slumped in the seat, the weight of my actions pressing down on me. I'd fucked up, big time. And now, I had to face the consequences.

As we pulled into the police station, the reality of my situation hit me like a punch to the gut. I was under arrest, my future uncertain, and the man I cared about was alone in a hotel room, probably wondering where the hell I was. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come. Whatever happened, I had to face it head-on. For Caleb, for my mother, and for myself.

16

CALEB

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