First

by K. C. Wells

  Tommy nearly snorted water out of his nose. “Warn a guy when you’re gonna say stuff like that, okay?” His friendship with Carla had developed during their first year studying organic agriculture, not the most exciting of majors, but it was what his momma wanted. Daddy would have been happier to have him work on the farm instead of going off to college, but no, Momma wanted him to have an education. It had been her goal since he’d first started school.

  “S’pose this’ll be useful when you’re growing peanuts an’ cotton back in ButtFuck County, Georgia?” Clara inquired, her face straight, her expression innocent. Only the twinkle in her eyes gave her away.

  Tommy shook his head. “Well, that’s rich, coming from you, girl. Eatonton, Putnam County, ain’t exactly a thrivin’ metropolis, now is it?” He knew Carla’s family background was similar to his own. Both of them had grown up in very rural locations. Even so, his hometown of Americus had to be one of the smallest towns in Sumter County. The nearest big town was Tifton, and getting home to see his folks was a good four-hour drive from school.

  Carla snorted. “Never said it was, farm boy.” She peered at him. “An’ I saw that test paper you got handed back just now. You scored another A plus, didn’t ya?” She huffed. “Ain’t right, I tell ya. You come off all sweetness, shy, polite as anything, but man, you’re a demon when it comes to studyin’.” Her scowl would have been more convincing if it hadn’t been for the bright eyes and the twitching lips as she tried to hold back her smile.

  Tommy gave her a mock glare and folded his muscled arms across his chest. “Are you sayin’ I look like I’m dumb or something?”

  Inside he was chuckling. He knew his physical appearance led his classmates to make assumptions about him, same as with Carla. Momma had always warned him about not judging a book by its cover. Carla looked like a big-boned, rough-and-tumble cowgirl, affable and good natured, but talk about smarts. She was one of the brightest students in the class. The two of them had gravitated together early in their first semester, once they’d gotten over the rivalry bit, though that was more Carla than Tommy. He liked their easygoing friendship. Tommy had noticed quite a few of the girls around campus often regarded him with interest, their eyes traveling over his body, and he usually steered clear of them. Carla wasn’t like that, thank God. Besides, she already had a fella back home.

  Carla snickered. She forked a couple of mouthfuls of pasta salad and glanced around at the crowds of students who filled the cafeteria with lively chatter and raucous laughter. They always sat in the same corner. It was a good spot from which to people watch, relatively unobserved. Tommy particularly liked watching the table where the more… athletic students hung out. Yeah, muscles did it for him every time.

  “So, what’s your type, farm boy?”

  Tommy snapped back into the moment. “Excuse me?”

  Carla leaned forward, half a tuna sandwich in her hand. “Do you like the jocks? Or maybe you prefer the more geeky type? I always had a thing for guys with glasses myself, but that might not be to your taste.” She took a bite out of her sandwich and sat back, her gaze fixed on him.

  There was a heavy feeling in his belly. He stared at her, his hands growing icier by the second. “I… what…?” The words choked him.

  Carla put down her sandwich, stood up, and took the empty seat next to his. She carried on looking out over the sea of students. “S’okay, Tommy, take a breath, all right?”

  He rubbed his palms on his jeans, inhaling deeply, forcing himself to be calm.

  Her shoulder nudged his. “For the record? I don’t give a shit either way, okay? It’s no skin off my nose if you’re gay. Don’t change nothin’ between us.” She spoke quietly.

  Tommy sagged into his seat. “How d’you know?”

  Carla giggled. “Oh, honey. Ain’t never seen you with a girlfriend all the time I’ve known you. ’Course, you might have a girl back home, but I’m thinkin’ no on that score. ’Cause I’m pretty sure if you had one, you’d have mentioned her afore now.”

  “That don’t mean I’m gay,” Tommy protested weakly.

  Carla leaned closer. “Fine, but, honey, I have eyes. I see who you look at—or should I say who you don’t look at.”

  He drew in several long breaths before trusting himself to speak. “I didn’t think I’d been that obvious.” Tommy took a few swallows of water in an effort to regain his composure. Only Ben knew he was gay, and he’d claimed that was due to him having excellent gaydar. Oh, and of course him noticing Tommy’s distinct lack of interest in girls. And then there was that whole business about Tommy eyeing up the captain of the wrestling team—and Ben catching him in the act. Tommy hadn’t worked up the nerve to tell anyone else.

  Carla patted his leg. “Aw, you weren’t. It’s just ’cause I know you.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Just tell me you don’t have a thing for that roommate of yours.”

  This time he really did snort water out of his nose. He spluttered all over the tabletop, and Carla quickly grabbed a napkin and thrust it into his hand. She chuckled while he wiped his face and then the table.

  “Well, that got a reaction.”

  “Ben?” Tommy said incredulously. “Hell no. Just… no.”

  Carla straightened her face. “I thought I’d mention it, seeing as he does bat for both teams, right? And you two are close?”

  “Yeah, but damn, girl…. Ben? So not my type, and I am so not his.”

  She shrugged. “Takes all sorts.” She dragged her tray across the table and picked up her sandwich. “I thought you stayin’ at his folks’ place on the weekends might’ve meant….”

  Tommy shook his head. “His family doesn’t know he’s bi, for one thing. But he’s trying to get me out more on weekends, and it’s easier staying with him and his family than driving back to Athens.” It was getting to be a nice routine. They’d pack a bag Friday and head off to Ben’s family home in the Morningside area of Atlanta when classes were finished. Friday night was usually dinner with Ben’s parents, Benson and Caroline, and his sister, Bethany, a high school senior. Ben’s parents couldn’t be more different. Ben took after his mom; both had bubbly personalities and loved being sociable. His dad was more serious, a real man’s man. And they were a whole world away from Tommy’s parents.

  Carla looked at her phone. “I gotta go. I got a meeting of the Black Student Alliance.” She held the phone out for him to see. “You seen the time?”

  Tommy sighed. Like she had to remind him. He rose to his feet and collected the debris from his lunch, depositing it all on his tray. “I’ll see you in class, okay?” Carla said nothing; her sympathetic expression was more than enough. He left the cafeteria and walked through the campus to the quiet corner near the library where he went every Friday lunchtime. When he reached the bench set back against the brick wall of the library, he sat down and got out his phone, staring at it in his hands for a moment.

  He hated feeling like this. It hadn’t always been so, not when he’d first arrived at college. Once a week, regular as clockwork, he’d call his momma, their conversations lasting fifteen to thirty minutes. He’d looked forward to hearing the news from home, telling her how well he was doing in his studies….

  But not now.

  Tommy knew his momma hadn’t changed. No, this was all about him, his own feelings of guilt. Once he’d accepted he was gay, his momma’s customary litanies and questions took on new meaning. He squirmed, his heart heavy, chest tight, every time she spoke of what the preacher had been talking about in church the previous Sunday. It wasn’t that he no longer believed, not entirely. He just felt the Lord might be having a problem loving him like his momma said he did. Not if the pastor had it right, and all gays were going to hell for their sins…. And then there was the time he chose to call her, every Friday lunchtime when he knew she’d be in the house. That way the weekly duty was done, with less chance of her calling him over the weekend when he was out, maybe someplace he wouldn’t want his mo
mma to find him.

  No use puttin’ it off. With a sigh, Tommy hit speed dial.

  “Hey, son. I’d got to thinkin’ you’d forgotten ’bout me.” There was a hint of humor in her voice.

  “Aww, ’course not, Momma. How’s everything? How’s Daddy?” He got comfortable, knowing this could take a while.

  “Your daddy’s just fine, ’ceptin’ he works too hard, o’ course. Not that he’s got much choice, seein’ as help is hard to come by right now.”

  The words were like a knife to his heart. If I wasn’t at college, Daddy wouldn’t be strugglin’. He knew his momma would never say that, but it didn’t stop him thinking it.

  “Did you go to church last Sunday?”

  Damn. As always the question set his stomach roiling in anticipation of the lie. “Yes, Momma.” The last time he’d stepped inside a church had been back in early September before he’d left for college. He hadn’t been home since then, something else to give him an attack of the guilts.

  “You met any nice girls lately? I’m sure there must be someone at church who’s caught your eye.”

  “No, Momma, there’s no one I’m interested in. Besides, I think my studies are more important right now.” Like she was going to pay any heed to that. He tried to change the subject. “How is Mary?” He knew Momma loved to talk about his married sister.

  “Oh, she’s fine. Her and Dan came by last night. And Dan’s daddy made sure to mention you last Sunday durin’ prayers. He asked after you when we was leavin’ church too.”

  Tommy shivered. The last time he’d heard Dan’s daddy speak, Pastor Cunningham had been telling the congregation to pray against this marriage equality evil that was pervading society. Tommy had been frozen to the spot, too scared to move in case something gave him away. The enthusiastic reception that greeted the pastor’s words filled him with dismay. There were loud choruses of “Amen” and varying noises of approval, especially when he spoke of the “growing menace of homosexuality” that was “spreading through the land like a cancer, infecting the nation’s youth.”

  It sure didn’t feel like an infection to Tommy. For the first time in his life, he felt like life finally made sense. Too bad most of the people he’d grown up with wouldn’t see it like that.

  “How’s that Carla you were tellin’ me about? Mightn’t she be someone you’d consider datin’? She sounds like a nice girl.”

  “She has a boyfriend back home, Momma,” he said. “Oh, I aced my last test.” Anything to get off the subject.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful, son! When might you come home next? It’s been a while now.”

  He did a quick count in his head. They were already heading into late October, and Christmas wasn’t that far off. “How ’bout we leave it ’til the winter break? After all, I’ll be home for a couple of weeks then. If I come for a weekend, that’ll just mean spending money on gas, not to mention all the time it’ll take getting there and back.” He crossed his fingers, praying she’d be okay about that.

  There was a moment’s silence. “But that’s weeks away.” His heart sank. “I s’pose you’re right, son.” He could hear the reluctance in her voice. “I’ll have to make do with our weekly chats ’til then.”

  Tommy fought hard to hold back his sigh of relief. “Yeah. We’ll have lots of time over the holidays.”

  They chatted for another ten minutes or so, while she regaled him with stories of who was getting up to what in Americus. Little got past his momma. She and the rest of her female friends at church could gossip ’til the cows came home, something that had always struck Tommy as decidedly unchristian. He finished up the call and made his way to his next class. Now that he’d gotten the call out of the way, he felt lighter. It wouldn’t be long before Saturday night arrived and he’d be in a certain bar once again, trying to blend into the background while he kept his gaze on a certain bartender. A month after he’d first laid eyes on Mike, and he was still no nearer to being able to say a word to the man. He was content enough to eat his dinner and drink his Cherry Coke.

  One day he’d find the nerve, but not yet.

  “I SEE your stalker’s here again.”

  “Huh?” Mike frowned. “What are you talking about now, Kev?” He concentrated on the drink order for Dave and his friends over in the corner.

  Kevin grinned and flicked his head toward the rear of the bar. “You know exactly who I’m talking ’bout. Mr. Cutie Pie over there with the muscles. Y’know, the one who’s been sitting on that barstool every Saturday night for the last five weeks?” He arched his eyebrows. “Don’t give me that ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ act. I seen you looking.” His grin widened. “G’on, tell me I’m wrong.”

  Mike wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. “You’re wrong,” he stated emphatically.

  Kevin stared. “Hell, you’re a poor liar.” Then his eyes gleamed. “In that case, you can take him his burger, tater tots, and Cherry Coke. Maybe you could even get him to say a few words beyond ‘Hey.’ ’Cause I swear that’s all I’ve ever heard out of that pretty little mouth of his.”

  Mike snickered. “I think if I spoke to him, he’d piss his pants.”

  Kevin guffawed and went off to the back of the bar. Inside, Mike was cursing himself. He’d been careful not to glance too openly at the guy. Those queens he worked with were too damn good at spotting when one of them was taking an interest in a customer. And fuck it, he was interested in the painfully shy but so sexy young man who hadn’t said a word.

  “And then there’s the fact that every time he comes in here,” Kevin continued, appearing beside him as if there hadn’t been a break in conversation, “I watch him look ’round the bar ’til he sees you.” That grin was still in place.

  “Are you still going on about him?” Mike demanded. “Sure you’re not the one here who’s fixating?”

  Kevin held up his hands. “I just call it like I see it. I think he’s only here to ogle you.”

  “Well, he’s gonna be disappointed if he turns up in a couple weeks’ time, isn’t he, ’cause I won’t be here.”

  Kevin’s brow furrowed. “Since when do you not work on weekends?”

  “Since I’ll be in LA, that’s when.” Mike returned his grin. “Remember?”

  “Oh, yeah, you’ve got a shoot. I’d clean forgotten.” He faked a sad face. “Aw, how you gonna cope without seeing that gorgeous bod?” He leered. “Then again, don’t worry your head about it. I’m sure me or Patrick can take care of him.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  Mike groaned. “For fuck’s sake, just leave the kid alone, okay? He’s not hurting anyone.” Mike had seen enough to know the guy wasn’t going to be a problem. He preferred this quiet observation to the occasional gropings of fans when he made appearances at Hustlaball or Southern Decadence. The kid appeared to have good manners.

  “Here’s his order.” Kevin handed him the tray containing the Angus burger, tater tots, and Cherry Coke. “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to get it from you.” That shit-eating grin just wouldn’t quit.

  Mike shook his head and took the tray. He walked over to where the young guy sat, his eyes widening as Mike approached. “Here you go,” Mike said cheerfully, setting the food down in front of him.

  The young guy blushed furiously. “Th-thanks.” He lowered his gaze and commenced picking at his tots.

  Mike retreated to a safe distance and watched him while he ate. He liked the look of those wide shoulders, the reddish-brown hair, not too short, the barest hint of scruff on his jawline and those striking green eyes. His skin was creamy where it showed, which spoke of a lot of time spent covered up. With his coloring, that was understandable. But that body was speaking even louder to Mike’s dick, which was definitely interested, judging by the way it filled as he feasted on the delectable view before him.

  His attention was forcibly drawn away when someone pinched his ass, good and hard.

  “You are so busted.”

  Fucking Kevin.

  Cha
pter Four

  MIKE SPOTTED the guy with the Scott Masters sign as soon as he emerged into the Arrivals hall at LAX. His driver was a young guy dressed in a smart jacket, shirt, and pants, who nodded politely and took Mike’s bag from him. They walked through the busy airport to the parking bays, the driver making small talk. It turned out he was new to the job, and then he surprised Mike by adding shyly that he was a fan.

  “Yeah?” Mike gave him a smile. “That’s great.” He peered at the name badge adorning the driver’s lapel. “So, is this all you do, Sean, collect guys from the airport? I’d have thought with your looks, you might be one of Rock Hard Men’s models.” He certainly had everything going for him—blond hair, blue eyes, and a killer smile, not to mention a slim, lean body.

  The blush on Sean’s cheeks was adorable. “You think? Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

  Sweet kid. He had to have been barely legal.

  “I’m a student at UCLA, studying for a BA in Film and Television. I’m hoping to get some experience behind the camera at the studio. At least I’ve asked them if it’d be possible. But seeing as I’ve only just gotten the job, I guess I might have to wait a while.”

  “Stick with it, kid,” Mike told him with a smile. They reached the car, and Sean placed Mike’s bag in the trunk. He went to open the rear door, but Mike stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Mind if I sit up front with you?”

  Sean beamed. “That’d be great.” But then he opened the passenger door and hastily began removing empty takeout cups and chips bags, stuffing them into a paper sack. “Sorry about the mess, Mr. Masters.”

  “It’s fine,” Mike assured him, “and call me Scott. Feels odd, you calling me Mr. Masters when you’ve already seen me naked.” He winked.

  Sean’s cheeks were on fire. He cleared his throat. “Okay… Scott.”

  They got into the car and backed out of the parking bay. Once they’d driven around to the machines at the exit and Sean fed a five-dollar bill into the meter, they were out into the early evening sunshine. Mike was glad of his leather jacket. The temperature was below average for the time of year, at about fifty-five degrees. Not that he’d have to worry about that once they got filming.