Page 70 of The Weight Of It All
“I was always the big kid.” Reed smiled sadly. “You want labels? I had plenty. Chubby, lard-arse, fatso. When I was sixteen, I played football, front row. I crushed hard on the captain of the water polo team. He was gay, and as far as I knew, we were the only two gay guys in my year at school. We got on well, laughed together, hung out in the same crowd… Anyway, there was this party and we hooked up, but he said we couldn’t be any more than physical. Like, he would never be my boyfriend because I was so fat.”
“Did he say that?”
“He made it pretty clear.”
“Oh Reed, I’m really sorry.”
“That’s why what Graham said to you really hit home for me. I know exactly what you felt like. I mean, I didn’t have eight years with him…”
“But you loved him.”
He nodded.
“What was his name?”
“Taj.”
“Sounds like a captain of a water polo team. Suppose he was gorgeous and a total jerk.”
Reed smiled. “Yeah. But can you see now? I would never judge a person by their body type because I’ve been there. I’ve been that guy for years that was called names and stereotyped, or worse, ignored, because he was big. I have been where you are.”
I blinked back tears.
“But Henry, I am still the same guy that’s in that photo. I am the same person now as I was when I was at my heaviest, yet people treated me differently. They treated me like I was a nobody, the butt of jokes because of my size. I mean, being six foot three at sixteen wasn’t easy, and I was big. Likereallybig.” He smiled with a far off look in his eyes as he obviously remembered something. “After Taj dumped me, I worked my arse off for twelve months: dieted, exercised, and I treated it like my job. Then I ran into him when we were eighteen, at a bar. He went off to college, and I hadn’t seen him in, jeez, well over a year. He didn’t recognise me at first, but he sure was interested. Then I told him it was me, and after he’d almost fallen over, I told him to fuck off.”
“Good for you.”
“And you look at me now and think I have it easy, but Henry, it’s not. Because now the opposite happens. People only notice me for my body. They only want to be with me because I work out. It’s all about weights and reps, and I love my job, but no one asks aboutme.” He took a deep breath and licked his lips. “Until you. You wanted to know the real me.” Then he put his hand on the photograph stuck to his fridge. “Because this is who I am. I’m the guy who knows what it’s like not to feel good enough because of my body. And that’s why it hurt when you assumed that of me.”
I put my hand on his chest, over his heart, and looked up at him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was a jerk.”
Reed laughed. “You only said it because of your own insecurities, and that’s something I understand. I’ve been there, Henry.”
“I’m still sorry. I didn’t realise how the stigma goes both ways.”
He put his hand on my shoulder; his thumb traced my jaw. “So, now you know the real me, are you still interested?”
“Of course I am. More interested, I think. Thank you for showing me this part of you.”
He took my face in his huge hands, and tilting my head back, he kissed me. Like really fucking kissed me. He owned that kiss, and in that moment, he owned me. I had never been man-handled before, by someone bigger and stronger, by someone who totally dominated me, and I had to admit it. I really fucking liked it.
I melted into him and let him kiss me however he wanted. He was all strong arms and sure hands, sweet lips and sultry tongue.
He pushed me against the kitchen counter, and he moaned as our bodies met. He snaked one of his arms around my back, holding me close to him, and he ran his other hand down over my hip, grinding us together. He broke our kiss to groan at the contact, then crushed his mouth back over mine, kissing me like he owned me.
I’m pretty sure I died right there. Or saw the light of heaven. Or was transported to some ethereal plane where pleasure and ecstasy were as tangible as air.
Reed broke away, with one hand on my hip, his other hand fisted in my shirt. He was out of breath and looked a little drunk. “Jesus.”
I drifted back to earth like a feather. “Yeah.”
“Just give me a minute,” he said with a breathy laugh. “God, you do this to me.”
I gripped my own hard-on. “Uh, I’m pretty sure it’s you.”
He looked at the bulge in my jeans. “Henry,” he half growled, half laughed. “You’re not helping.”
“Oh, but I can,” I said, taking his hand, leading him out of the kitchen. “Where’s your bedroom?”
