Matched By My Rival by DJ Jamison
6
PARKER
Irolled to an off-campus party with the team, though we were all on the same page about keeping it low-key. No posting to social media, no bad behavior that would get us in more hot water with Coach Jackson. Our off-season training schedule was Tuesday through Friday, with only Wednesdays for drills—meaning we were all free to recover Sunday and Monday—but none of us wanted to take any chances.
Besides, we were all tired as fuck. I wasn’t the only one who’d been volunteering most of the day. I was probably the only one who had to shower thoroughly afterward, though. Darnell wouldn’t even let me in his car. I had to bum a ride from one of the guys taking a load to the dump. To add insult to injury, Darnell had regaled the guys all night about my unmanly shrieks and the shudder-shake dance I’d done when I’d emerged covered in mud.
“Sounds like Prentiss got some payback,” Hinkel said.
“Yeah, well, watch out,” I muttered. “After he hides my body, who do you think will be next?”
Hinkel was one of a handful of wide receivers, but the best suited to run the same routes as Simon and I. Our other guys were more useful in different places on the field.
“Hey, I didn’t kiss his girlfriend,” he protested.
I scowled. “She kissed me.”
“Suuuure, you didn’t want the hot girl’s lips on you at all,” another of the guys crowed.
I flipped them off and headed for the watered-down beer. I had to wait in line. The party was crammed into a small apartment, the smell of perfume, cologne, and hair gel thick in the enclosed space. Despite the tight quarters, there had to be a hundred people there.
After a long day of work and humiliation, I wasn’t in the mood to flirt, especially when I had to suppress my attraction to any guys and only focus on women like the one who kept standing too close in line, pressing her soft body against my arm while she leaned in to make small talk.
When Darnell found me a short while later, I shot him a glare. “Don’t even start.”
“I’m heading out,” he said. “Gotta pick up this girl I met the other night. Chantel. She needs a ride to the party.”
I blinked. “Okay.”
He punched my arm lightly, nearly knocking me off my feet. “Thought you might want to cut out? I can drop you by the dorm.”
A relieved breath gusted from me. “Oh, hell yes.”
“Aw.” The redhead who’d been doing her best to capture my attention pouted. “We could have fun.”
I shot her a practiced smile. “Some other time.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” she called as we weaved through the mass of bodies toward the door. Luckily, Darnell was a big fucker, and the sea parted before him.
We got to the dorm in record time, just three minutes door to door. Darnell pulled up, letting the car idle while I reached for the door handle.
“You did a good thing today.”
I paused, glancing over incredulously. “Um, yeah, volunteer work. Yay.”
He laughed, his teeth bright against the dark interior. “No, dipshit. Letting Simon do you like that? A lot of guys would have refused.”
“Probably should have.”
Darnell seemed to assess me. Whatever he saw, he seemed satisfied. “He can be a prick, but he’s also miserable. I think you showing up, letting him dish out a little punishment—deserved or not—might be just what he needed. What you both need.”
I didn’t have anything to say to that. I wasn’t sure how wallowing around in trash was what I needed, but I got what Darnell was trying to say. Simon might have been the one to punch me, but he’d also been the one to lose everything as a result. He needed someone to blame, and I was the easiest target. Today, I gave him an outlet for all that resentment.
“Yeah, okay. Just don’t expect me to be his whipping boy forever,” I said as I got out of the car.
Darnell smirked. “Well, it was fun while it lasted.”
“Fuck you,” I said with a laugh and jogged up the sidewalk while he drove off to pick up his date.
When I got inside, I was too wound up to sleep. Figured. I’d spent all evening fucking exhausted, and now my body refused to settle. Darnell’s comments about Simon rattled in my brain, starting an uncomfortable buzz under my skin. Maybe he was right, and I’d soothed some of Simon’s ruffled feathers. Maybe there’d come a day Simon didn’t hate me so much, but so what? Why did that thought make me restless and jittery? Why did it make my heart race and my palms grow damp?
I tried to shrug off the feeling, but it persisted. Simon’s death glare came to mind, along with that stray thought I’d briefly entertained about strangling and kissing him.
“Oh, fuck no,” I groaned. “Not happening.”
I was not going to sit there and fantasize about a guy who hated me. No way, no how. I’d sought out Simon to make peace, not to…pant after him like a lap dog, for fuck’s sake.
With a growl of irritation, I tugged out my phone and opened the Thrust app.
Maybe BiCuriousStud would want to chat. He was worth more of my attention. I’d felt a connection from our very first words. There was potential there if I played my cards right and let it unfurl gradually.
I didn’t need Simon’s glares or hostility—even if he was incredibly hot.
* * *
SIMON
By the time I finished closing the bar and got back to my room, my stomach was knotted with nerves at the thought of chatting with HotPan again. I felt ridiculous. I wasn’t getting naked with the guy. I was maybe flirting. With a guy. With a really hot guy, judging by his photos, which were a lot nicer than mine. Clearly he knew his way around a hookup app and had probably been with a lot of men before, and—
Just man the fuck up.
I clicked the T icon and waited while the app opened. My inbox was stuffed with more match requests. Jesus. How did anyone sort through the onslaught? It was like going to one of those restaurants with a massive menu of one hundred-plus items. It sounded good in theory, but then you ended up staring at the menu for an hour, no clue what to order.
I bypassed all the requests and went straight to the message stream with him. He’d probably forgotten about me and moved on already. Who the heck wanted to stick around for a guy who bluntly said he wasn’t interested in hooking up on a hookup app, for fuck’s sake?
I clicked the window, and my breath caught.
He’d messaged me.
HotPan22: You around tonite? We could chat…
A nice, tame invitation. Some of my nerves settled. I’d been imagining all kinds of demands, but this felt low-pressure.
BiCuriousStud: I was working, but I’m free now. What did you want to talk about?
HotPan22: You.
That gave me pause. I wasn’t ready to divulge too much about myself. I knew I wanted to explore, but it wasn’t as if I were ready to announce that to the world. Besides, this guy could be anyone. He might be in one of my business classes, for fuck’s sake. He looked to be close to my age, and it wasn’t like Hayworth was a huge campus. Our paths could cross at any time.
Not sure I want to give out my personal info.
Sorry if that seems rude.
He was quick to answer.
No, of course. No personal details. I’m on the DL myself for #reasons
HotPan22: I was thinking more like, tell me something about you. Favorite food? Favorite movie?
BiCuriousStud: Wow, I feel like I’m on a date now.
BiCuriousStud: I’m a Gemini, my favorite food is street tacos with extra hot sauce, and my favorite movie is The Departed.
HotPan22: You’d get along well with my mother. Watching that depressing ass movie.
BiCuriousStud: It’s not depressing. It’s a great movie with amazing writing and acting, and it’s true to life.
HotPan22: Spoiler alert: It’s full of death.
BiCuriousStud: Like I said, true to life.
Our conversation went like that, back and forth, as we discussed our favorite music, television, eating spots around Hayworth. Anything was game, though I carefully avoided any mention of sports. He did too, but then maybe he wasn’t a sports hound like me. I’d grown up watching ESPN. My dad left it on in the background pretty much all the time.
Even now, with football such a sore spot, I couldn’t resist checking sports blogs and articles, speculating about trades that could be made, how teams would shape up for the next season, who was overdue to retire.
Talking with HotPan was easy, which I liked.
He knew how to lighten my mood when I drifted too dark—which, I knew, happened a little too often lately. He was also a hell of a flirt, able to insert subtle innuendo without directly coming on to me.
It was kind of like a date—without the stuffy clothes, the overpriced meal and drinks, and the awkward lulls that hang over a dinner table between two relative strangers. I wouldn’t have minded seeing his face, but there was a benefit to the anonymity between us. It was easier to let down the wall, talk about my likes and dislikes.
By the time our conversation wandered into dangerous territory, I wasn’t nearly as nervous.
So, what got you onto this app?he asked me. How long have you been…curious?
I liked how he asked. It was respectful. He wasn’t giving me grief for being some confused straight boy. He wasn’t implying I wasn’t queer enough or was homophobic for not feeling ready to yell it from the rooftops.
I’d seen enough of the profiles on the app to know there were a lot of toxic assholes floating in this cyberspace. Somehow, I’d landed a nice guy.
I’ve always felt this way,I admitted. I just wasn’t ready to take any action, you know? My life was going a certain direction, and I didn’t want to rock the boat.
Makes sense. So, what happened to change your mind?
I smiled grimly.
My boat fucking capsized.
He sent over a string of laughing emojis.
Shit man, you have a way with words. Not to laugh at your misfortune or anything. I’m sorry you went into the drink, but I’m glad it brought you here to me.
To you, huh?I felt my heart quicken at the thought.
For now anyway,he said. For as long as you’re interested. If…you’re interested.
Oh, I am. My body was more than a little invested in our flirtation. I’d been running hot most of the night. I’m not ready to hook up for sex or anything, but I find you very interesting.
Then I’m flattered, and I count myself lucky.
You’re a patient guy, huh?
The best things come to those who wait…
If he was right, then we were both in for a hell of a treat. Even with our relatively innocent conversation, I’d felt the possibility of what might come. The chemistry that could combust with just a little urging.
If the anticipation didn’t kill me first.