Gettin' Lucky in Kentucky

by Shane Morton

  “Hey, Mason,” he said as he slid into his chair and dropped his backpack on the floor. “How’s the paper coming?”

  “And right to work…” I grimaced, making an ugly face at him. “Hey, Calvin? How was your day?” I asked and then imitated his voice. “It was good, Mason. How was yours? Was practice rough tonight?” I switched back to my voice and noticed that he had a little grin on his face. “Thanks for asking, Calvin. It was okay. I had meatloaf for lunch and then hit the gym for a couple hours. Then I got the shit tackled out of me for a couple hours. I might even have a bruise.” I stuck out my bottom lip playfully.

  “A bruise, huh…” he grinned. “Probably serves you right.”

  “Hawkins was out today. He pulled his shoulder, lifting. So, the defense got me instead. I think they take it easier on Hawkins, cause he’s so skinny. They didn’t hold back with me today,” I winced. It really was sore.

  “Where is it,” he asked, curious.

  I stood up and raised my shirt up, turning to the side so he could see my ribs. His eyes widened, and he reached out and touched the already purpling skin. His fingertips caused me to shiver, gooseflesh rippled across my torso as his fingers lingered over the bruise. He looked up at me at pushed it gently, and I winced.

  “Sorry… I…guess I, couldn’t help myself,” he stammered. “It’s pretty big. Did you get it checked out?”

  “Just a bruise. Trust me, it comes with the territory.” I shrugged, still holding my shirt up above my head. My muscles rippled as I stretched. There was something about pain and the feeling of it. I liked this kind of uncomfortableness. It meant I was working hard.

  “Mason?” Calvin said, still looking at my torso. “You can put your shirt back on.” He said breathily. I blushed as did he.

  I pulled my shirt back down over my head and sat down across from him. “Sorry, I guess getting naked in the library is frowned upon, huh?”

  His face lit up. “Oh, I’m sure you weren’t the first, Mason. I bet these stacks have seen some things. I mean all these college hormones… This would be a pretty good place for some canoodling.”

  I felt my blush climb higher up my face. Those had been my thoughts exactly. Of course, my canoodling partner had been Calvin in my fantasies. “And to answer your question, yes. I have a very rough draft to let you see tonight. I’m hoping that I can finish it this weekend, so we have time to work on it together.”

  “Cool. First, though, we have to get you to pass this quiz.” Calvin frowned as if he had doubts that I could do it.

  “You don’t think I’m gonna pass, do you?” I said sadly, feeling the wind fall completely out of my sails. I wanted him to believe in me, it had become important to me, even to impress him with how hard I was studying and how seriously I was taking this. Maybe he hadn’t noticed.

  He leaned in, the frown falling off his face. “Sorry, Mason. That wasn’t what I meant. I promise. It’s just that we’ve only had a week, and this class isn’t really one of my strong points. I just hope that I’m giving you what you need.”

  “You always have, Calvin.” Watching him blush again, took my breath away. “You… I mean, I think that you are great and I think I’m getting it. I do. Hell, I even kind of enjoyed writing this fucking paper, and I hate that shit.”

  He stared at me, quietly as if he had something he wanted to say, and then he bent down and unzipped his bag and pulled out some paperwork. “Well, let’s see then. Do you have a pen?”

  I held up the pen that was on the table. “I’m always prepared. I was a boy scout.” I laughed.

  “I bet you say that to all the girls,” he said quickly, staring at me with those gorgeous green eyes, a small lopsided smirk appearing slowly across his face.

  “Nope. No girls…” I said slowly. This was my moment. I could tell him now, and it would be like ripping the band-aid off. Scary before you pull it, but the pain was never as bad as you thought it was going to be. I took a deep breath and felt my resolve crumble. “I haven’t had a date since my freshman year. So… nope.”

  “Damn… McKendrick. Freshman year? That’s worse than my track record, and trust me, it’s abysmal.” His eyes widened in surprise at his admission, as did mine. A glimmer of the real Calvin peeked through. It was glorious. I craved more.

  “Well… I prefer quality to quantity, and Calvin?” I swallowed and felt my throat tighten. “Call me Mason. I hate that bro-last name bullshit, and yeah, I know I do it… But it always feels fake, unless I’m on the field. Besides, I like the way you say my name. You really have a nice voice. Maybe you should have been a singer,” I tease. I wanted to hear him moan my name. I had thought about it when I was lying in my bed.

  He laughed. “Trust me, you do not want to hear me sing. Your ears might bleed. Okay, Mason, let’s take this quiz I made for you with some of the things I would expect to be on the test, and let’s see how you do.”

  He slid a sheet of paper over to me, and I picked it up. The staple in the corner let me know that there was more than one page. I thumbed through it. Damn… There were four pages. I glanced up at him and licked my top lip before I chewed on it. I did that when I concentrated. I nodded and started writing. I was happy with how many of the questions I thought I knew the answers to. I wanted him to see that he had helped me, that I was better with him than I had been before. I wanted him to know that he made me a better person ever since I met him.

  I got halfway through the quiz, and I glanced up at him. He had a small smile on his face as he watched me work. His eyes, though, weren’t on the paper.

  They were on me.

  “So, about this abysmal dating life of yours?” I asked as I answered the next question. The answer was The Medici’s, in case you were wondering. I’ll let you google the question. “Your last date was bad?”

  He laughed. “Don’t you need to concentrate?”

  “I can do more than one thing at a time, Calvin. I know you have a low opinion of me and jock-kind, but we aren’t cavemen.” I glanced up at him and grinned. “So, your last date? Bad?”

  “Boring,” he answered.

  “Where did you go?” I asked as I read the next question. Damn… This one confused me a little. Titian was known for what? Color? Religious paintings? Portraits of the popes? It could be any of these. I chose color. I remember that they said his style changed, but his love of color and use of it never diminished. That had to be the answer.

  “Shit… I don’t remember, actually. It was that bad.” He leaned onto the table with his elbow.

  “Come on. Let me live vicariously through you, a little. Inspire me with your tale of woe.” I chuckled.

  “Fine.” He pointed to the Titian question on the paper. “Good job. I was sure you wouldn’t get that one. It was tricky.” I heard him sigh and felt his breath tickle my hair. Chills shot through me. “I think we went to dinner and some party. I honestly do not remember where we ate. It was off-campus, I’m sure, and I don’t think I drank enough to make that date very interesting. I hate it when you go on a date and realize right off the bat, this is going to be a bad night. It was that kind of date.”

  “Was he a student here on campus,” I asked offhandedly as if it wasn’t a big deal.

  He sat back in his chair and stared blankly at me. “I didn’t tell you I was gay, Mason.”

  I looked up at him slowly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was a secret or anything. I’m… I guess I just assumed.”

  He crossed his arms and laughed. “It hasn’t been a secret for a while, Mason. I knew that you know Gwen, remember. It’s okay. You look like you just saw a ghost. Jesus, Mason.”

  “Well, crap. I thought I pissed you off or something,” I sighed. “The look on your face… Good one, Calvin.”

  “Get back to your quiz,” he leaned back in towards me and rested his elbow back on the table as he rested his chin on his fist. “Besides, I can’t imagine living a life like that ever again. It almost killed me in high school, all of that hiding wh
o I was and trying to be someone that I wasn’t. Life is a hell of a lot better when you stop pretending and start living life the way you are supposed to. It was a harsh lesson, but I am better for it. Can you imagine living like that, Mason?”

  The question made me pause, and I laid the pen down on the table and stared at him. I wanted to confess to him. I wanted to tell him that I could imagine it because that had been my life for years. I wanted to tell him that I wanted to be brave, but I needed someone to be brave for, because I didn’t believe in myself.

  “It would be hard,” I swallowed heavily. I could feel the color drain from my face, and my body felt heavy and leaden as I sat there in front of him. My armor was a burden, and I wished I were brave enough to take it off and stand before him as just me, but I had never been brave when it came to this subject. I hated myself for how I felt. How I hid this most intimate part of myself from those that loved me. Maybe the problem was I was ashamed of myself. But why?

  “Yes. I am sure it is,” he said carefully.

  I picked my pen back up and turned to the last page of the quiz. “So? You never answered my question about tonight.”

  “What question was that?” he asked, and I could feel my heart crack, just a little. Then it dawned on him what I was talking about. “Oh…”

  “Yeah. Oh…” I teased. “Is being asked out by me, really so terrible? A drink tonight after we finish? It would be nice.”

  “Sure,” he smiled slowly. “Being asked out by you isn’t bad, Mason. It’s just… Sure, sounds fun. Will we see your buddies? I thought you wanted to keep me your secret, so people didn’t know you were being tutored.”

  “Yeah, that was silly, wasn’t it? But we aren’t gonna be studying Calvin. We’re going to be hanging out and that I would never be ashamed of. I don’t know about seeing the other guys. I kind of hope not. It would prefer to have you to myself tonight.” I watched his face flush. Maybe he would like that too. Sometimes, the way he looked at me, the glances he shot at me when he didn’t think I was paying attention. Maybe he thought…

  I’m sure he didn’t. It was all in my head, probably. He had let me know often enough what he thought about me, and it wasn’t the stuff of desire. Hopefully, tonight might bring us to a different place. Maybe he would actually like me, at least.

  “Well, we’ll never get that drink if you don’t finish the damn quiz,” he said sarcastically. “Pass me your paper, and I’ll look at it while you finish.”

  I reached in my bag and handed him my paper. He pulled out a red pen and started reading it. I tried to not pay attention to all the small marks he was making on my paper. Every scribble of his, though, made me wonder if it was any good. I really had tried my hardest.

  Fuck.

  I tried to keep my attention on the quiz and finally finished. I thought I did pretty great, and I watched him as he read my paper. His face was an expressionless mask as he perused each paragraph I had written. I saw that he was fixing some grammar mistakes. That didn’t surprise me. English was hard.

  He finished and looked up at me and nodded as he handed the paper back to me. I slid my quiz over to him. He nodded at me, and a smile lit up his face.

  “Good job, Mason,” he exhaled as if he couldn’t believe it. “That’s pretty good. I fixed some grammar for you and circled a couple paragraphs that need more detail, but all in all, that paper is a solid B.”

  I felt like I could jump over to the tallest building. “What could I approve to make it an A?”

  He shook his head. “Work on those paragraphs I circled and maybe wrap up with a point of view. What are your thoughts on artists of that time period being beholden to benefactors? Maybe talk about how that hasn’t changed in all this time. Artists today are still under the thumb of grants and people with money who will support the work they want to do. If you do that… Well, An A is possible.” He studied me as if he were just seeing me for the first time. “You’re really taking this seriously. That’s great, Mason. You should be proud of that work. I am.”

  “I am too. I just didn’t know if I was on the right track. I don’t have a lot of… well, I needed you to tell me it was okay, I guess. It makes me feel good to know that you’re proud of me, actually. Thank you. That really means a whole hell of a lot to me, Calvin.” I said honestly. If he knew how much I cared about what he thought, it might surprise him.

  “Let me grade that quiz?” he studied the paper and marked one that I had gotten wrong, he wrote down the correct answer. He put another X on a question on page 2 and glanced up at me. “Are you gonna just watch me grade this? You’re making me nervous.” He scrunched up his face as he looked back at the quiz.

  “Do I make you nervous, Calvin,” I said slowly, teasing him.

  “You definitely make me… a little, I guess. I’m just not used to being around big old football players, like you, Mason.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice. It did little to hide the truth, though. I made him uncomfortable. Now I needed to find out why.

  “Okay, Mason. Once again, you did great. You missed two. that’s’ another B. I am so fucking proud of you.” He looked at me with a new look on his face. Admiration? Pride? Whatever I craved to see it again.

  “That’s all I really wanted to hear, Calvin. Thank you.” I felt my cheeks redden.

  “Do you want to look at your other classes? Or should we stay on this?” he said, sitting back in his chair.

  “Can we call it a night? I know it’s a little early, but I really just want to go grab a drink with you,” I said honestly, leaning forward with my elbows on the table and almost tipped it over with my weight. Calvin grabbed it and started cackling.

  “Whoa there, big boy. You almost broke the table with those biceps of yours,” he snickered, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Fine… Let’s go. Jesus, I needed that laugh. The look on your face, dude…”

  I chuckled. “These guns just get in the way.” I raised my arms and bent them, flexing them for all they were worth. My biceps bulging and my shoulders straining my t-shirt. I stuck my tongue out the side of my mouth playfully.

  “Put those away before someone gets pregnant,” he sighed. His eyes, though, took it all in.

  “Gay boys can’t get pregnant, Calvin,” I scolded, trying to sound like a teacher.

  “Tell that to my ovaries,” he said under his breath. “You ready? Or do you need me to leave first?”

  That took me completely off guard. I bit my bottom lip. All the actual concentration on the quiz prevented me from getting a chubby tonight, so I was good.

  “Nope,” I stood up slowly. “Let’s go.” I grabbed my backpack and stuffed the paper and pen into it. He picked his up off of the floor and stood up too.

  “Good,” he smirked. “Let’s go. A beer sounds great.”

  “What? A Kentucky boy like you wants a beer on a Friday night? No way… Tonight, you and I are drinking Kentucky’s finest bourbon. You do like bourbon, don’t you?” I teased. He glanced over at me as we walked through the stacks to the stairs.

  “I love bourbon. I grew up a country boy. It’s in my blood,” he said stubbornly.

  “Me too, you know. I bet we have a lot in common, dude?” I said seriously. “I bet a lot.”

  “Maybe? The jury’s still out, dude.” He said snidely.

  We walked over to Sam’s and sat down at a table over in the corner. He smirked as he slid down into the booth. The waitress was right there, and we both ordered a bourbon, neat. We stared at each other as she went behind the bar and brought it back over. For a Friday night, Sam’s wasn’t too busy.

  “I love this place. I ordered my first beer in this place my freshman year. If it weren’t for Sam’s, there wouldn’t be a place for underage people to get a beer,” I laughed. “How does this place manage to not get shut down?”

  Calvin’s face beamed at me with a giant smile. “I ordered my first beer in here my senior year of high school. I was so nervous I almost peed my pants.”

  “You’re fr
om here?” I asked, surprised. I didn’t know he was from Moray. Lots of the students here were, but I had always imagined him being from someplace else. Bardstown, maybe.

  “Yep. Born and bred. My family had a small soybean farm and raised cattle. What about you?” he asked. I admit, imagining him in the barn taking a nap in the hay, did something to me. I adjusted myself under the table.

  “I’m from a small nowhere in eastern Kentucky. I hated it there and try to not go back as much as possible. With training and the game schedule, I find a way to stay away for most of the year. I visit at Christmas, of course, and for a few weeks in the summer. I love my family, but I never really felt like I fit in there.” The bourbon burned just right as it went down, warming me up from the inside.

  “Oh, come on,” he raised an eyebrow at me. It was adorable. “I bet you were the star of your town, weren’t you? Eastern takes football seriously. I bet they threw you a parade every time you made a touchdown.”

  “Not far from the truth, actually.” I sighed sadly. “You know how you are in the moment, and you look around and think, this has nothing to do with me? It’s just a sham, in a way. Those people loved you when you were on top and dragged you through the mud whenever you weren’t. When I came here, my eyes opened up quite a bit. I mean, I wasn’t the starter, and I probably never will be. Moray, even though it’s in the same state, is about as different as Paris, France, from my hometown. Everyone there is white, conservative, and Baptist. Here I met so many other people, and my small world opened up. I can go back to visit, but I could never live there again. I am not the same as them, any longer.”

  “Shit… That’s deep,” he breathed heavily as he picked up his bourbon and lofted it into the air. “Here’s to expanded horizons.”