Page 8 of Catching Kyle
I shake my head. “This is ridiculous.”
“Hey, it’s this or no new contract,” he says. “And that means no Championship Game.”
I thumb lines into the condensation on my ice water. I want to win the Championship Game more than anything, both for me and my dad. He worked so hard at Miss U, only to be diagnosed right as he got a coach offer in the NFO. I promised to honor his legacy. And the Tigers are the only team that will get me to a Championship Game, so I have no choice.
“I’ll do it,” I say.
“Good,” Timmy says, shoving steak and mashed potato into his mouth. “I’ll find you a book club. And you’re gonna go to it regularly to find a girl. I’ll expect updates and proof you’re going.”
I grumble, but nod. This is the only way.
“Great,” I say through gritted teeth. I’m gonna be a goddamn romance reader.
Chapter 3
Michael Cunningham
Duetolimitedspace,I have to park far from Ruckers and nearly jog to get to the romance book club Amani recommended to me on time. I’m carrying my designer edition of Pride and Prejudice, and the brooding clouds over head don’t bode well. I need to hurry. I don’t want to ruin the book. I should have brought an umbrella.
I reach the edge of the bookstore right next to the window that looks into the cafe. The chairs and tables have been rearranged in a round robin style, and beyond the glare, I can see that nearly all of the chairs are filled.
And there’s not one man in the room.
The heat of embarrassment flushes my cheeks, and I move away from the window to hide. Is this a women only book club? I pull out the card and scan it quickly. It says everyone’s welcome. So why is there not even another gay man in the room? Would I even be welcome here? I feel like an intruder.
A cold drop lands on my nose, then another on my neck. Then, almost instantaneously, it starts pouring. I shove my book inside my shirt and, having no other choice, I bolt toward the entrance of the bookstore. By the time the door rings shut, it feels as if someone pulled a prank by pouring a bucket of water on me. Because the rain is falling lightly again, and there’s even some sun, as if the downpour never happened. I hate spring weather.
“Welcome!” The front bookseller says. She’s a tan, short-haired woman with an intricate chest tattoo and classy-looking septum ring. “Man, you got drenched.”
“Hi,” I say shyly. I nod my head, dripping water from my short beard onto the floor. A shiver shakes my body. “Yeah, unlucky me I guess.”
“Oh, no,” she says, walking from behind the counter. “I don’t want you to get sick. We actually have T-shirts if you want to buy one. I can certainly throw on a discount.”
A laugh sounds out from the group of women. A hearty, happy laugh.
“Thanks,” I say as I take the T-shirt from her. “Let me change and I’ll pay after.”
She nods, and a couple of women enter the bookstore and close their umbrellas, laughing to each other.
“Oh, hey Amber!” The bookseller says. “You’re just in time!”
They exchange more pleasantries, which gives me time to invisibly slip away. I find the bathroom, set down the book, and take my soaking shirt off. Luckily, my book didn’t get too wet. After I change into a T-shirt that says ‘I <3 Indie Bookstores’, I walk back out, and I can hear the discussion just beginning. Maybe I could just leave now. They wouldn’t know I was intending to attend. They would just think I was some random guy buying a book.
I pick a random book off the shelf—some gay romance I’ve been meaning to read—and slink over to the checkout. I set that and my copy of Pride and Prejudice on the counter.
“The shirt fits you well,” she says with a smile as she rings me up.
“Thanks,” I say, trying to hide my embarrassment as I pull out my wallet.
She takes hold of my books to scan.
“Oh, that one’s mine,” I say, gesturing to Pride and Prejudice.
“Oh, sorry,” she says, sliding the book back to me. “Wait, were you here for book club?”
My chest tightens. “I—uh.” I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say. I didn’t want to interrupt what already looked like a close-knit group of women.Amani’s suggestion was nice, but I don’t think this book club is for me. I can find inspiration for my book elsewhere.
So I just shake my head.
