Kingston
This Monday sucked. Practice was brutal, and Camden wasn’t himself at all. He played like shit, which isn’t like him. He was so out of it, Coach made him stay behind and clean up the practice field while everyone else showered and left.
But I stayed behind to help Camden, wondering what the hell is up. I can’t help but think maybe I crossed the line Friday night in our tent. I probably shouldn’t have asked him to look at my dick, but I was pretty drunk, and damn it, it’s messing with my head.
I don’t think I’m small. Maybe average. And yeah, I know it shouldn’t matter, but what guy doesn’t worry about that shit? Kennedy’s the only one who’s seen it. What if she wasn’t lying?
Shit, I have to try to shake this off.
“Thanks for staying. You didn’t have to.”
I shrug as we move to the locker-room to start tossing jerseys into the laundry bin. Our teammates couldn’t be bothered to actually drop them inside the bins. Instead, they left them fucking everywhere.
Assholes.
“It’s not a big deal. I know you need to go pick up Luce.”
He smiles, just as Coach pushes through his office door, eyeing us and then shaking his head. Probably because he intended for Camden to do it by himself and I’m here helping, but he doesn’t look surprised. “I’m heading out. You two hurry up and then leave through the gym exit.”
We both nod in agreement and wish him a good night before we finish the clean-up in the locker-room. “So, what was up with you today?”
Camden is the star of the team. He just is. Raw, pure talent. He doesn’t fuck up. He tosses the final jersey into the bin and then strips out of his own, tossing it in as well. But I notice the wince, my eyes dragging over his sculpted torso and stopping on a dark purple bruise on his side.
“Cam, what the fuck?” My hand reaches out, dragging over his bruised ribs, and he hisses, pulling back.
“Don’t. Jesus.”
“Sorry.” I pull my hand away, but I’m glaring at my best friend. “When the hell did that happen?”
He shrugs, pushing the rest of his clothes away and striding naked toward the showers. My eyes mean to move to the bruise, but instead get caught on the globes of his ass as he walks away.
Huh, he has a nice ass. For a guy, I mean. It’s toned and flexes with each step, and I need to look away. What the hell was that?
I strip quickly, trying like hell to push that weird moment away, climbing under the spray of my own showerhead. The water is warm and feels damn good over my sore muscles.
“When did that happen?” I wash my hair and my body quickly, not looking back at Cam, but I’m not letting this go.
“Friday. When that big fucker sacked me. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. That looks brutal. And that’s why you were so shitty today?”
“Gee thanks, buddy.” He sounds like he’s laughing a little, so I don’t think I actually hurt his feelings, and it’s not like he doesn’t know.
“Are you going to be able to play Friday?”
I hear his shower turn off and see him grab a towel out of my peripheral vision as he steps out. “Of course I am. It’s the last game. I’m not missing it.”
I rinse the soap from my body, then turn the shower off and climb out, wrapping a towel around my waist. “It looks bad, Camden. Did you let anyone look at it?” He looks guilty, and I know he didn’t. “Camden,” I scold.
“You sound like me,” he says with a fond smile.
“You can’t do that. If you’re really hurt, you should tell someone.”
“I’m fine.” He grabs his t-shirt and pulls it on over his head. And I realize I’m staring at him. “Really. I’m fine. It’s just a bruise, and I’ll be totally normal by Friday. It’s only Monday. You know I bounce back fast.”
Oh, right. Staring in the locker-room isn’t normal. I try to pull my eyes away from him as he grabs a pair of boxer briefs, but I can’t seem to. I know what he’s saying is true. He probably is fine, but I’m still worried. I don’t like seeing Camden hurt.
“You going to get dressed?” My mind goes to Friday night and our discussion. My lip involuntarily pokes out with a pout because it’s still in my head.
“Oh. Yeah.” But I don’t move, and he sighs, sitting down on the bench with a pitying look on his face I don’t like.
“It’s still bothering you, isn’t it?”
I nod slightly because he knows me well. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I know it’s fucked up. But I can’t get it out of my head.”
He takes a deep breath and then makes a sweeping motion with his hand toward me. “Show me.”
“What?” Now it’s my turn to be startled as I look at him with big eyes.
“Show me. You’re right. We’re friends, and if you need me to confirm that you don’t have a micro-dick, then I will.”
“Hey, I know it’s not that small,” I say, suddenly feeling a rush of nerves and maybe something else I can’t quite pin down. Then I feel my dick start to plump up at the prospect of being seen.
Apparently, it doesn’t matter that it’s my best friend and not some chick.
“Really?” I ask, just to make sure. I can’t ruin our friendship.
“Really.” He keeps his face serious, acting calm and totally Camden as he looks me in the eye. “Show me.”
My hands tremble as I go for the knot around my waist, my heart beating too fast in my chest as I drop the towel to the floor.
I try to keep my breathing steady as Cam’s eyes trail from my face down to my torso and then settle on my dick with an appraising gaze.
“It’s nice,” he says calmly.
“Nice?” I ask, looking down at my cock that’s now fully hard from the attention, standing straight up and proud.
He looks away, looking back at my face with a smile. “Yeah. Nice. Definitely not small. It’s a nice dick. Now, please put it away.” Is it me, or does his voice sound a little strained?
I grab my underwear and pull them on, not wanting to ignore his request. “Nice.” I repeat the word, not really liking it. Although, I’m not sure what I was expecting.
I pull on my jeans and zip them up carefully, since I’m still sporting a hard-on. Then I notice he keeps his back to me as he finishes getting dressed. Is he hard too?
I try to push that thought away and pull my shirt on. “Thank you.”
He turns around to face me with his gym bag slung over his shoulder. But I notice he’s holding it in front of his crotch more than usual.
“It’s not a problem. But I’m not doing it again. Just know she was definitely lying to get in your head.”
That makes me smile, my chest pumping up with pride. “She also said I’m a bad lay,” I blurt out as we walk through the gym toward the exit.
He pushes the door open. “Yeah. Can’t help you with that.”
The door slams closed behind us, and I shrug, adjusting the bag on my shoulder. “I mean, you could.” My cock hasn’t gotten any less hard with the walk out to our vehicles, and I don’t think it’s going to any time soon.
“No.”
“Come on, it doesn’t have to be weird,” I say as he tosses his bag into the back of his truck.
“It’s very weird.” I open my car door and toss my bag in before facing him to see a disgruntled look on his face. “Have you forgotten you’re straight?”
I shrug, grasping the back of my neck nervously because no, I haven’t forgotten that. “You’re my best friend. Always have been. Would it really be that weird? We love each other. You said you love me.” I point at him. “And I love you too.”
He groans, leaning against his truck. “It’s not the same thing.”
Again, I shrug, dropping my hand from my neck. “You’re also a virgin, probably because of the slim pickings around here, right?”
He cocks his head to the side, studying me carefully. “Uhhh . . .”
“Right.” I don’t wait for him to say anything else, thinking I’ve landed on a great plan. “You could get some gay-sex practice, and I can find out if I suck at sex. And if I do, I can improve. See? Win, win.”
His jaw is dropped now. “Win, win? Are you kidding?”
“No.” I shake my head, totally serious and now kind of excited about my plan. “It makes perfect sense. We trust each other more than anyone else. We can do this for each other, and it doesn’t have to be a big deal.”
“It’s a huge deal, Kingston.” He seems irritated but not mad. “I don’t want to just do it to do it.”
“Come on, I’m hot, right? Not too bad to look at. You said my dick is nice,” I say, hopefully convincingly.
He laughs, pushing off his truck and shaking his head at me, but the irritation seems to be gone. “You’re insane. And yes, you’re hot, but you’re also straight, and I’m a guy. You’re into girls.”
I shrug. “You’re hot too. For a dude.”
He rolls his eyes at me, but it’s done fondly. Like maybe I’m just not totally understanding everything. “It’s not happening.”
“Oh, come on, Cam. This can totally work. It can help us both out.”
“No.” He walks to his driver’s-side door and pulls it open. “Drop it.”
He climbs in and shuts the door. I do the same, starting my car to follow him to his house.
But there’s no way I’m going to drop it like he said.
It’s just too perfect.