Page 24 of No More Jocks

The harsh glare of the morning sun pierced through the thin white curtains, rousing me from a deep sleep. I reached out instinctively, seeking the comfort of Marcus's muscular arms, only to find empty space where his warm body should have been. I bolted upright, my heart pounding in my chest as I scanned the room. He was nowhere to be found.

Panic surged through me, a cold wave crashing against the shore of my consciousness.He didn’t just fuck me and leave. He’s not the type.I tried to reassure myself, but the doubt lingered, a bitter taste in my mouth. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and padded to the bathroom, hoping to find him there. But the bathroom was empty, the silence deafening.

Maybe he went to grab us breakfast? Yeah, that’s what happened.I clung to the hope, a lifeline in the storm of my thoughts. I picked up my phone and dialed his number, my fingers trembling slightly. The call went straight to voicemail, the mechanical voice on the other end a stark contrast to the warmth I craved.

Did he block me?The thought sent a shiver down my spine.I know this fool didn’t block me.But as quickly as the anger flared, it dissipated, replaced by a gnawing worry.Maybe his phone is dead, Caleb. Quit jumping to conclusions.I texted him, my fingers flying over the keyboard, but the messages remained unread.

The silence was maddening, a void that swallowed my hopes and left me with nothing but questions.What happened? Was he okay?I felt a sense of déjà vu washing over me. This had happened with Bradley. After the first time we had sex, he disappeared, consumed by guilt. We worked through it, but the memory of that pain lingered.

I quickly dressed, my movements fueled by a mix of anxiety and determination. I scrolled through my phone, sifting through the countless text messages until I found Marcus’s address. The sight of our conversations, the late-night texts and flirtatious banter, brought a pang of longing. I copied the address and pasted it into my rideshare app, my mind racing with possibilities.

As I waited for the Uber, I clutched my phone, willing it to ring, to buzz with a message from Marcus. Each notification sent a jolt of hope through me, only to be dashed when it wasn’t him. My mom and sister confirmed receiving my messages, their texts filled with concern and questions about when I’d be home. I responded quickly, my focus solely on finding Marcus.

A few minutes later, a white SUV pulled up to the curb. The driver, Cindy, greeted me with a warm smile. "Hey, Buddy, I didn’t think I would hear from you this soon."

"Good morning, Cindy! Thanks for responding so promptly," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. She glanced around, her eyes scanning the empty street.

"I’m going to 2229 Pemberton Lane. You know where that is?" I asked, my fingers tapping nervously against my knee.

"Isn’t that the area I picked you two up at last night?" she asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

"Yeah," I admitted, the weight of the situation settling heavily on my shoulders.

"Where is your hot boyfriend?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

"I don’t know if he’s my boyfriend; he disappeared on me when I woke up this morning," I confessed, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.

"Was this your first time doing the do?" she asked, her eyes softening with understanding.

"How do you know we were having sex?" I asked, surprised by her intuition.

"Two sex-crazed teenagers humping in the back of my Uber, and the next day I’m picking you up from a hotel? It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what you two had planned. Especially two handsome young men like yourself," she said, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Yeah, we had sex last night, then I woke up this morning, and he was gone," I said, the words spilling out in a rush.

"Was it his first time with a guy?" she asked, her voice gentle.

"Yeah. How do you know this?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

"I’m lesbian, and I have gay friends who are suckers for guys like your boyfriend," she explained. "Give him some time; he’ll come around. He’s experiencing the after-nut guilt."

"What?" I asked, confusion clouding my mind.

"The after-nut guilt. Most closeted guys go through it the first time they have sex with a dude. They question their sexuality and need time to process what has happened. He will call you," she said, her voice filled with conviction.

I had gone through this with Bradley but didn’t know it had a name. I also didn’t think Marcus would have the same reaction. He had treated me so differently that I was genuinely shocked that he wasn’t there when I woke up this morning. "How long do you think it will take for him to reach out?" I asked, my voice tinged with desperation.

"A few days?" she suggested, her voice soft.

"Cindy, I am not waiting for one day, so I’m not waiting a few. I need to talk to him now to see what is going on. I gave him a part of me I’d only given to one other person. If he doesn’t want to speak to me, he will have to dump me to my face," I said, my voice firm with resolve.

"It’s your choice; I just think you should give him the benefit of the doubt," she said, her voice gentle.

I didn’t respond to Cindy because I knew the next words out of my mouth were going to be unkind. How dare she tell me to wait a few days to talk to Marcus after I’d given this guy a sacred part of me. I knew she was just trying to help, but she needed to mind her fucking business. We arrived at his house, and I quickly climbed out of her car and closed the door.

"Thanks for the talk and the ride. If my approach doesn’t work, I’ll consider your approach another time with another guy," I said, my voice tight. She nodded and smiled, understanding in her eyes.

"You want me to stay and wait?" she asked, concern etched on her face.

---