Chapter 2 #2
When I was still in college, finding guys to hook up with was easy.
The university’s located in Shelby Harbor, a mid-sized city about three hours north from here.
The campus is overflowing with fellow horny queer students.
Sadly, Claremont Shores is basically a gay dating wasteland.
I have to set my Rotica search radius to 100 miles to get any matches—and even those are rare.
“Mason? Mason Burke?” shouts a loud voice.
I look up from my phone and freeze. One of my swim teammates from college, Kiah, is waving at me enthusiastically and jogging over to greet me. He yanks me up from the picnic table and wraps me in a bone-crushing hug.
“Dude! It’s so good to see you!” Kiah greets cheerfully.
“Kiah…” My voice comes out flat with shock.
I’ve regrettably lost touch with my former teammates over the past two years. We used to be inseparable, practically like brothers. After I abruptly left college, several of them reached out, including Kiah, but I never answered.
Kiah pulls back from our embrace and smiles. He’s an attractive guy with tan skin, blond hair, and perfectly straight teeth. He’s almost too handsome, like a Ken doll.
“This is crazy running into you here! I had no idea you were still living here. Figured you’d moved on by now.”
My smile stiffens. Ouch.
“So, how’ve you been, man?” Kiah asks, lightly knocking his fist into my shoulder.
I swallow hard. I always hate this question. People rarely want to hear the truth.
“Oh, you know. Same old shit,” I deflect.
“Did you finally escape that crappy seasonal lifeguard gig?” he asks, grinning like it’s a joke.
I press my tongue to the inside of my cheek. “Nope. Still there in the summers.”
Kiah pauses, color rising to his face. “Oh. Sorry, man—“
“It’s fine, dude,” I insist. “How about you? You graduated, right?”
“Yeah!” His grin returns, bright and easy. “I graduated last spring. I started working at a tech company in Grand Rapids.”
“Wow, that’s great,” I say, forcing a tight smile.
Kiah nods, then his expression softens. “We really missed you on the team these past couple years, dude. Still haven’t recruited anyone with a better breaststroke.”
I drop my gaze, words sticking in my throat. “Yeah, well…”
He leans in, lowering his voice, flicking a glance at Maddie sitting behind us. “How’s your family doing?”
God. I wish the sand would just swallow me whole and bury me beneath the dunes. The last thing I want to discuss is how pathetic my life is post-dropout.
“We’re fine, thanks,” I say quickly.
“That’s good to hear, man. We all worried about you, when… y’know,” Kiah mutters, waving his hand in the air.
It’s not hard to fill in the blanks. I know he’s referring to my mom’s suicide attempt. Guys like Kiah, from their perfect families and polished suburbs, never quite know how to handle these situations.
“I appreciate that,” I murmur, barely audible.
His hand lands on my shoulder, light but deliberate. He squeezes like he’s offering comfort, and I tense under the contact. I hate sympathy.
“Anyway, I should get going. It’s a long drive back home,” Kiah says, thumbing over his shoulder. “Take care, bro.”
“Right. You too.”
Kiah waves before vanishing into the crowd. My chest burns, pressure building behind my eyes. Maddie can’t see me like this. I blink hard, roll back my shoulders, and take a deep breath to recompose myself.
As I make my way back to the picnic table, Maddie and her friends are still drinking their hot chocolates. I swipe Maddie’s cup and take a sip. It’s sickeningly sweet, the texture a little grainy from undissolved powder.
“Gross. I don’t want your germs,” Maddie says, wrinkling her nose when I try to hand it back.
“More for me,” I quip with a smirk.
She shrugs. “Whatever. I was done anyway.” She arches her brow. “So… who was that guy?”
Whenever I get close to another guy, Maddie always asks lots of questions.
I think she suspects the truth—that I like men—but I’ve never said the words out loud to her.
Honestly, it was probably obvious when we were kids.
I rewatched High School Musical on repeat just to get a glimpse of shirtless Zac Efron.
I suppose I’ll confirm her suspicions when I bring a boy home to meet her someday. Or rather, if I bring a boy home to meet her someday.
“Just an old friend from college,” I tell her.
Before I take another sip of hot chocolate, I check my blood sugar on my phone’s continuous glucose monitor app. My CGM reads 75 and trending down. I’ll gladly take the sugar hit.
Being type one diabetic has its own endless list of challenges—like the fact I need to reorder insulin pump supplies soon, and the copay will surely gut my bank account. God, I hate the American healthcare system.
“You went to college?” Bella chimes in, snapping my attention back to the table.
Bella’s a sweet kid, and I’m glad she’s one of Maddie’s friends. Her parents own Beachside Burgers—my favorite restaurant in town, and the place I work once the lifeguard season ends. Her family has always treated me with kindness. Hopefully Bella’s manners will rub off on Maddie someday.
“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “I went to Lakeview University for a couple years on a swimming scholarship. Majored in political science.”
“So why didn’t you graduate?” Bella asks.
Beside me, Maddie stiffens. She carries a lot of guilt for things she can’t control. Of course, me dropping out of college wasn’t her fault, but try telling that to a stubborn thirteen-year-old. I know she doesn’t tell any of her friends about Mom’s suicide attempt, either. And I don’t blame her.
“I flunked out,” I lie easily, shrugging.
Bella hums sympathetically. “That sucks.”
The conversation shifts to their favorite boyband—something about a blond member getting a new haircut—and I catch Maddie glancing over at me. She gives me an appreciative smile, soft and subtle.
I just nod back.
When they’re ready to leave, I usher Maddie and her friends back to my truck. On the drive across town, I finish the rest of Maddie’s hot chocolate, savoring every last drop.