Page 78 of Sweat

I squint. “Why?”

An incredulous grin spreads across his bearded face. “You’re on ESPN.”

As quick as I get my feet into a pair of slides, I beeline for the house and enter through the kitchen where Xia is putting a kettle on the stove. “There’s Mister Big Shot,” she says as I pass her for the living room. Olive and Lena are on the sofa, still in jammies, bickering over which Disney movie to watch before breakfast, but Matt has the TV paused on a morning talk-segment of ESPN. He hits play.

“Next up on our college athletics watchlist is twenty-two-year-old senior, Rowan Hughes, out of Sacramento State University. We’ve seen this kid do some great things on the field, but if the first match of this season is anything to go off, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a first round draft pick. It’s only a matter of which team is going to be lucky enough to scoop this kid up.”

They show a montage of my best moments from yesterday’s match, moments where all I see are things to improve upon, but the analysts talk like I’m hot shit. I’ve got goosebumps, and I don’t think I’ve taken one breath since Matt hit play. I’m torn between jumping for joy and puking my guts out.

“This is it,” Matt tells me, a hand on my shoulder I’m too numb to feel. “This is what you’ve been working for. Get your degree. Get drafted. Get out of Sacramento. Live a good life.”

After a minute of the analysts discussing a gymnast in Virginia, I somehow get a word out of my choked up throat. “Cool.”

I’m heading back to the garage when Xia asks if I’ll come back for breakfast.

“I gotta go to the gym,” I answer. “Didn’t work out yesterday. Need to put in double today.”

She chortles like I’m crazy. “You had a match yesterday!”

“A match is a match. It’s not the gym.”

Really, I just want to get back to Tommy before he wakes up alone in my ratchet bedroom. Between the house and the garage, my body finally settles on an emotion, and by the time I’m slipping back into my room, I’m grinning wide enough to ache my eye sockets.

Tommy is up, sitting off the side of my bed in all his naked glory, rubbing at his dreary eyes. There’s spunk crusted to his abs, and his hair is a mess, sticking up at odd angles. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Makes me think about what Matt said.Live a good life…A good life has never really been in my purview, but as long as I’ve got a soccer match to train for, I’ve got a reason to live at all. I don’t know what I’ll do if Tommy becomes a second reason, but for now, he sure makes life more tolerable.

“Why are you dressed?” he mutters sleepily. “And why are you smiling like that?”

Drinking in the sight of him, I turn my smile to a smirk. “Not used to seeing your dick soft.”

“Take your shirt off. That’ll fix it.” He bends forward, reaching for me, and his wingspan is long enough to capture my wrist and tug me between his legs. He pushes my tee up under my armpits and nuzzles his face against my chest.

Petting my puppy’s hair, I say, “I reek like a gay sex club.”

I probably shouldn’t have said that. I know having sex with Tommy is the epitome ofgay, but I’ve been trying to compartmentalize being gay and being with Tommy. Being gay has too much to do with how fucked up I am on the inside, and I don’t want any of that touching this thing I have with Tommy. Whatever this thing is.

At the same time, one of the things holding me back from ever really considering myselfgaygay is that I’d never found aman who made me feel comfortable before. And now, here’s Tommy. My big, gay baby purring against my chest and curling his arms around my hips.

He murmurs, “If this is what a gay sex club smells like, count me in.”

I know he’s joking, but I still pick up his face and tell his blue eyes, “You better not. You’re mine, baby boy.”

Eyelids fluttering, Tommy asks, “Really?”

My nerves prickle. I press my lips to his parted ones so I won’t have to answer, and I kiss him the way he kissed me last night. Slack lips and slow licks with sticky tongues. I want to roll around on his tongue until I’m slathered in his drool.

Finding my hand behind his head, Tommy brings it down between us and tucks my knuckles against his swelling cock.

“There he is,” I whisper into his mouth.

“Told you.”

I pull away from Tommy’s mouth so I can put mine on something else. Gripping his growing shaft, I sink to my knees between his legs and sit low enough to nestle my nose in his pink scrotum. I hold his cock up and focus my mouth on his balls, licking and sucking each one into my mouth. He smells like musk and stale spunk, but I’m lapping it up like I’m the one in heat.

When his cock is perfectly stiff in my fist, I pinch my fingers below the rim of his cockhead and drag my tongue up his length. His skin is hot and tight, the vein pulsing against my tongue.

“Wait,” Tommy exhales, cupping my jaw and coaxing my head back from his cock.

“Wanna eat you, baby,” I tell him, rolling my fist over his cockhead and feeling pre-cum.

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