Page 124 of Catching Kyle
“I have to ask,” I begin. “What was it that drew you into my writing? You mention that the idea was inventive and fresh, but what kept you reading?”
There was a thoughtful pause, and then I heard her take a breath. “Honestly,” she says. “It was the romance.”
My chest tightens. The word immediately makes me think of Kyle. “The romance. Can you tell me more?”
“Of course,” she says. “I just loved how vulnerable these knights were with one another. I mean, hell, they start out in completely different stations, but as they kept doing things for one another, I really saw their romance blossom. I can easily say that some books focus on the sex more than anything else. And don’t get me wrong, that’s fine sometimes, and the sex you had on the page was great. But it was the intimacy that led to the sex that really kept me going. I was invested in the relationship from the moment the older, more experienced knight took in the poor serf to his retinue. They saw each other. I don’t know, it was excellent. And I know other people will love it too.”
It’s like each of her words pokes tiny holes in my heart, causing me to bleed and drip blood down my chest.
When I first showed Kyle my romance writing, his biggest comment was that the love was superficial—focused and appearance and sex only. Offended that a straight man of all people gave me that advice, I swore that I was going to write the most intimate, thoughtful romance I could, and have the sex be a result, rather than a cause, of said romance. In other words, the intimacy between my characters was a result of Kyle’s feedback. And here a literary agent is telling me that this was her favorite part of the book.
“Michael, you still there?”
I shake my head into focus. “Yes, sorry about that. Thanks, writing deep intimacy is really important to me.”
“And it shows,” she says. “Any other questions?”
I glance down at my notebook and scratch my chest. That’s when I realize that my shirt is glued to me as a result of the cum that I didn’t clean up earlier. The cumshot that Kyle’s stupid smile got out of me.
I ask some of the questions I had written down: her specific vision for the book, what she’s done for other clients, her communication style. And it all seems really positive. In talking to her, I realize that she was one of my mostpreferred agents, so I don’t see why I wouldn’t sign with her. I will give it some time to think and reach out to the few agents left that have my query, but I think this is the one.
“Great questions,” she says. “I have one last one for you.”
“Go ahead,” I say.
“Tell me what’s next,” she says. “I wanna know what the next project is!”
I press the spacebar on my computer to wake it up, and I see the blank curser just beneath the words I’d written this morning. At first glance, they don’t seem as bad as before, but they definitely don’t look as good as I felt writing them. I get the thought to reach out to Kyle to get his thoughts, and my chest aches as I imagine what he would say.
I share the premise with her—gay magicians on a quest to slay a dragon—and I can tell she’s intrigued.
“If you sign with me, let’s go into greater detail. I have some thoughts. But I like it.”
“Thanks,” I say, more embarrassed than I should be.
She says she’ll look forward to hearing from me, and then the call that’s changed my life is over. I sit there—excited, hopeful, afraid, nervous, motivated. But more than anything, there’s this grief attached to it all. And now that I’m done talking to the agent, the source of the grief is clear.
I miss Kyle.
I miss him so much.
I know he was a dick to me, and I know I should be angry with him. But he’s been trying to reach out to me. To apologize.
If it wasn’t for him, I may not have had this phone call. I may have still been writing surface-level romance without deeper intimacy. So this whole thing feels like a sign. Maybe I should keep Kyle in my life—dating, I don’t know. But maybe as a friend? I appreciated his insight, so I know he can help me with my writing. But more than anything, having him back in my life feels so right for me.
So I do something crazy.
I go to my contacts and finally unblock Kyle Weaver’s number.
And then I send what feels like the riskiest text of my life.
Chapter 41
Kyle Weaver
“You’regonnabefine,man,” Ezekiel says to me. “We got the plan in place. You’re not alone.” He and two other guys around him nod.
He and I sit at a table on the far side of a large conference room along with several other Tigers players. On the other side, one of the wide receivers for the Vanguards is being interviewed. It’s media day, the Monday before the Championship Game. Last year, I nearly outed myself to the whole American public. And this year, I’m fixing to do something even more insane.
