Page 41 of Rocking the Receiver
That’s enough information. I exhale softly. The full story will always be ours anyway.
Besides Nathan—who Rupert only saw for an extended weekend trip to Canada to honor Sally—only Hardy and the other band members are privy of our actual life status. Meaning me moving into his two-bedroom apartment right after graduation, which led him to break the news to his mother so that she wouldn’t be surprised on her next Christmas visit.
That said, he does have to work on hating himself for keeping things about us from the people he loves—my brother, Sally… My heart aches whenever he mentions how he cowardly broke his promise of coming out soon after she met Nathan. Just like guilt gnaws at him for postponing to reveal to her who the “special someone” he’d just met was. He never got the chance.
This unexpected hospital reunion might be oddly cathartic for both of us.
Once again, time freezes. I wonder what’s next. None of this was planned, especially not my injury, but this unfortunate turn of events might be the extra push that Rupert and I needed.
Tim gawks before moving to speak, but my man is faster.
Rupert’s gorgeous green eyes darken as his perfect face brightens. “You… You have? You do?”
“Duh!” My fingers graze his. The world around us vanishes. I only have eyes for him. “I meant to say it before, but I was too chickenshit… for once.” I pause, acknowledging the goosebumps splayed across my arms.
Relax, I may have chemicals in my system, but I’m the same guy who’ll never be a sappy romantic. However, it’s pretty cool to take a step back and live this blissful moment to the fullest. As far as I can recall, I’ve always been attracted to this guy, there was no way around it. Pursuing him. Courting him. Convincing him…
My thumb caresses the back of his hand. “I love you, Rupert Smith. Always have and always will. There’s no getting rid of me now!”
“Never! I love you, too, babe… so bloo—,” he stops mid-sentence to avoid cursing in front of some of the most important people in my life. People who are dear to me, and who he respects. People who saw him as Tim’s best friend until now. People who are watching him, us… as a couple.Awkward!“So much…”
“In case you’re all wondering, Rupert played hard to get for way too long, too. But you know me, driven and all… Shocker,right?” I smile, shrugging nonchalantly in hopes of brightening the mood since the three of them are so stunned and eerily quiet.
Boy, I really need to stop babbling!
I hope my parents will understand, love me, and accept my choices, no matter what. Granted, my sexual orientation was never a choice, but Rupert is, so is moving in with him. Or was it kismet all along?
Rubbing my forehead with my splayed palm, I replay the question inside my tired and nonetheless wired brain.
Seriously, what the fuck did the nurses give me to think about shit like this?
I love the guy, okay. Case closed! Says the same closeted football player who hesitated to come out for so long.
Initially, I waited because I preferred to meet the right person first—or at least one who mattered enough—so that my gayness would be attached to someone real. Then, Tim introduced me to Rupert… virtually, and meeting him took the forefront. Once I eventually did and things progressed, his own closet became another comforting wall to protect us from the outside world. Later, he mentioned that it wasn’t fair to hold me back from coming out; he wasn’t. He’d mentioned that he’d be ready when I was. We didn’t get a chance to discuss it further since my football dreams took off. I told him that there’s a lot to lose at this point in my life and career. “Just a little longer,” I kept demanding, using the commanding voice he loves so much because I sound the same when edging in the bedroom. Yup, I’ll always be the bossy man who growls, “This is mine!” in a deep and threatening tone and swats his hand whenever he attempts to touch himself when I’m inside of him. Not that I’mcomplaining, mind you. We are definitely in sync; I wouldn’t change a thing.
Sex with Rupert is a toe-curling experience that was sooo worth the wait. I’ve been lusting over him for as long as I can recall, and punched my V-card at almost twenty years old, so much later than most of my friends and teammates. It may sound outdated, but I’m glad I saved myself to experience sex with him. Let’s face it, I was far from the expert I thought I was! Porn has never been my thing and research can only do so much. Practice makes perfect, or at least, that’s my goal; I’m only twenty-three and have much more to learn with him. He’s been a patient, attentive, and helpful teacher. Over time, we explored what we enjoy the most. Together. Hence, long before caving to my demand and making me 100% gay by allowing me to give bottoming a try, my stubborn lover introduced me to my prostate by finger-fucking me, but I’m stubborner—yes, I invented a word that truly defines me!
He did cave, eventually, though that’s a discussion for another time. What matters is that we’re 100% in sync.
That works for me. Learning what makes him tick is so much fun already!
“Ben, merde alors,” Tim finally blurts out in French, snapping me out of my drifting thoughts. Thankfully, my trip down filthy Memory Lane stayed inside my head.
Damn, these drugs are strong…
My brother pats my dad’s shoulder before addressing my parents in English. “I don’t know about you guys, but I think Elliot couldn’t have found a better person.”
I mouth a thank you as he purposefully keeps quiet to give my folks room. Holy shit! My brother’s expressive face shows that he has a zillion questions, some less appropriate than others, but I’m sure he’ll keep them under wraps until it’s just us, outside of a hospital room.
Being so light-headed wouldn’t mix well with such details anyway, so I put all my willpower on keeping my big mouth shut for a change. For now, I take everything in.
Never in a million years would I have imagined it would play out like this. My coming out to my parents and beloved brother, in this hospital room, with my boyfriend by my side. All in all, it’s as good a time as any because there is no right time for this.
Finally, Mom hugs me, whispering, “I’m happy as long as you’re happy, Elliot.” There’s no judgment in her eyes. No questions either, just acceptance.
This jumpstarts Dad’s reaction, which mimics hers, awkwardly hugging us both. “Your mom was always better with words than me. I’m with her on this one, son.” His voice is warm and playful. My heart somersaults. “So, here’s the deal,”—his tone turns businesslike, so I frown—“you need to recover quickly and go back to your boyfriend.” With that, he strolls towards said boyfriend, looks up to meet his eyes, and engulfs him in a manly hug. “It’s good to welcome you to the family… again.”
My man is definitely not a hugger. For some reason, it brings out his uptight background, which I love to blame on his British upbringing as a whole rather than on his sweet mom.
