Page 52 of Catching Kyle
Kyle steps out of his front door and shuts it behind him, and my knees go weak. He’s wearing a black suit with the most crisp tie I’ve ever seen, a deep blue color that somehow makes his black beard and hair pop.
He looks at me, and I want to melt into the driveway. He smiles.
“You’re all dressed up,” I say. I don’t know what the hell else I can say.
Without a word, he walks around the Cadillac. He opens the passenger door, then stands by it. Waiting.
“What?” I ask.
He gestures to the door. “Get in.”
Something pinches in my chest. “Why?” I ask. “What’s going on?”
He puts his hands behind his back and looks at me with the smile that crinkles his eyes. “I’m taking you on a date.” He winks at me, and then all the lies I’ve told myself today become alarmingly clear.
Kyle’s wanted me this whole time.
Chapter 21
Michael Cunningham
Kylejuststandsthere,that goofy, pants-dropping grin on his face. Then he gets a little more somber. “What’s wrong?”
I realize I’m just standing there, frozen stiff. I haven’t moved a muscle. I would normally want to get in the car with him. But I’m so confused.
“I didn’t hear from you,” I say. “I thought…”
He furrows his brows, then raises then in recognition. “Oh, my bad, Michael. I saw your text and didn’t think to respond. I thought it was given you were coming over.”
My stomach lifts. I overthought everything. Kyle was expecting me this whole time. But what does that mean about how he feels about his sexuality?
Kyle taps his foot patiently. “If you don’t want to go, I won’t make you.”
I force myself to step forward, still nervous that he could reject me at any moment. “I want to go,” I say.
“Good,” he says, putting one of his hands in his pocket, which stretches the fabric around the side of his leg and shows just how muscular his thighs are. Just the sight of him gives my stomach the flutters.
I set the book and his clothes inside my own car and then rush to get inside Kyle’s car, and the moment he shuts the door, all my thoughts race up to me.
Kyle Weaver,THEKyle Weaver is taking me out.On a date.And how could I fucking forget that our lips touched? We kissed for Christ’s sake. Did I enter the Twilight Zone?
He opens his door and sits down, and sitting this close to him, I’m overwhelmed by how much of a man he really is. His smell lingers over to me—earthly cologne with a hint of sweat—which tells me that he’s a little nervous. For me, though?
Oh my god. Hehasbeen watching my videos for probably years now. If I had known that he was… I probably would have made all my videos especially for him.
“I’m taking you to one of my favorite places,” Kyle says as we pull out of his driveway. He puts his hand on the back of my seat, and I just about melt into the leather. He drives in that confident, self-assured, and lazy way that men drive, keeping one hand on the wheel and taking cautious but modest glances to make sure he’s safe. Our eyes catch just as he turns back to face the front.
“Awesome,” I say, warmth building in my chest.
As we drive, I have a million questions. But I don’t know which are appropriate to ask. He’s one of best football players on one of the best teams ever. He can’t just come out. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of any professional sports player come out, let alone one that plays one of the most American sports ever.
And now I’m going on a date with him. I’ve said no emotionally unavailable men, but does this include Kyle now? Though he could be accepting his sexuality, how can I be sure that he’s in a healthy enough place to be a good boyfriend? I’m tired of sex, of guys who just want something from me and then let me go once they have it, and then getting hurt in the process.
But here Kyle is, taking me out. He could have just invited me into his house, taken my clothes off, and fucked me right there. And considering he’s my biggest fantasy, I don’t know if I would have stopped him.
Yet here he is, dressed to the nines, taking me to one of his favorite restaurants. I glance down at my clothes and grimace. I’m wearing a gray workout shirt and bright pink shorts.
“Jeez,” I say, glancing over at him then back down at my clothes. “If you’re dressed that nice… I wish you told me. I could have worn something better.”
