The frosty mornings of October brought changes to my morning routine. My father began to drop me off at school, and John and I fell into a once per week Thursday afternoon practice session. To avoid any possible talk, we avoided one another during the rest of the week.
I’d met with Gary Thurman the day after my first intimate encounter with John. I gave him a few suggestions on getting more people involved with the Garden Club. He said a few things that made me think that he was trying to tell me that he was gay without actually admitting that he was gay. I didn’t respond to any of them, but I put them in the back of my mind for future reference. I’d asked John what he thought about Gary, but John was really fixated on Juan. I don’t think he saw Gary as possible dating material, so I didn’t bring it up again.
I continued to go to the gym on days that Todd was practicing, except for Thursdays, of course, when I was practicing getting blown as well as giving better blow jobs. Todd was in my math class, and I had hoped we would work together during a partner project, but the teacher assigned the partners. I was assigned Roger Mehan, an average student who did his part but nothing extra.
Todd, on the other hand, got assigned Pamela Evans. Pamela was a genius in creative writing and in Physical Science class. She struggled immensely in math; she knew it and was honest about her need for extra help to gain understanding in some of the most basic concepts. I could hear Todd explain and explain again some of what we were doing. His level of patience was above and beyond what I would have been able to muster.
That afternoon, I did my usual stay after school in the gymnasium. I’d been thinking about Todd more than usual since hearing him explain x, y, z coordinates to Pamela to determine location in three dimensional space. He wasn’t just amazing to look at, to watch as he did his routines, but he was dreamy to listen to. When he walked out of the locker room and onto the tumbling mat, my eyes were glued to him.
He looked up at me and smiled. I think my heart stopped. I’d been discovered. My insides were in panic mode, and I was frozen into immobility. Todd came over to the bleachers and climbed up until he stood right in front of me. I didn’t even have my homework open.
Todd smiled. “Tell me, Mr. Bond,” he said in a very serious voice, “do you expect me to believe that this loud room is your place of choice for doing homework?”
I’m not sure why, but his calling me Mr. Bond gave me goosebumps. I managed to smile up at him. “Maybe I like gymnastics.” My voice cracked.
He sat down.
“Could it be that maybe you like a certain member of the team?” he asked.
“I like every member of the team. I mean, of the ones I’ve met.”
He nodded. But he looked a little sad.
“Of course, I am drawn to one member more than the others.” I could not believe that I said it. I must have been losing my mind. “Like number fourteen.” I added rapidly.
Todd’s eyebrows raised and his face turned red. We looked at one another; the room seemed to go quiet.
“I like watching you, Todd, but it’s not just because you’re so handsome. There’s something else. I also want to know you and hopefully become friends.” I saw the gymnastics coach step out onto the floor. He looked up into the stands.
“Just friends?” asked Todd.
“Now’s not the time for us to discuss these things. Maybe when practice is over?” I tilted my head toward the coach. “I think he wants you.”
“Fairburn! Time to get to work,” shouted the coach.
Todd stepped down onto the next lower seat. “Throw me a bone?”
“I’ll be right here when practice is done,” I told him.
“I’ll tell coach that you’re helping me with the math project.”
I watched him walk down the bleachers and toward the equipment. He did not look my way during his entire practice session. At first, that bothered me, but I realized that he knew how to remain focused on his craft. Once I realized that I was not a distraction, I began to worry that he wasn’t really interested in me. He’d caught me watching him. Could he just have been leading me on? Was I being set up?
Would I be jumped later? Beaten up? Made to pay a price for being attracted to a handsome, athletic classmate? Could the man I wanted just be another fag-hating jock?
The worry was a cold knot in my stomach, twisting tighter with each passing minute. Practice stretched on, an eternity of chalk dust and the rhythmic thud of feet on mats. I tried to focus on the math problems I’d abandoned, but the numbers swam meaninglessly on the page. My eyes kept drifting back to him. He was a force of nature on the floor, all coiled muscle and fluid grace. Every tumbling pass, every release move on the rings, was executed with a fierce concentration that was both intimidating and incredibly attractive. The coach, a man named Miller whose face seemed permanently set in a scowl, barked out commands, his gaze occasionally flicking up to the stands, landing on me with unnerving frequency. Each time, I felt a fresh wave of panic, certain he was about to march up the bleachers and drag me out by my ear.
Finally, it was over. The team gathered for a brief, huddled talk, and then they began to disperse. I watched as Todd grabbed his bag, said something to a teammate, and then started walking toward the exit. My heart hammered against my ribs. He was going to leave. He was going to walk right past me and out the door, and I’d been right all along. It was a setup. I started gathering my things, my hands shaking slightly, ready to make a quick escape before anyone else noticed me.
But then he stopped at the base of the bleachers. He looked up, and for the first time since practice began, our eyes met. He didn’t smile. He just looked at me, his expression unreadable, and then he jerked his head toward the side door, the one that led to the less-used locker rooms. It wasn't a question. It was a request.
My feet felt like lead as I descended the cold metal steps. Every creak echoed in the now-empty gym. Coach Miller was still on the floor, wiping down a piece of equipment with a rag, pointedly not looking at us, but his presence was a heavy, suffocating blanket. I reached the bottom, and Todd turned without a word and walked toward the door. I followed, the distance between us charged with an energy that was part fear, part anticipation.
He pushed the door open and held it, waiting for me to step into the dimly lit corridor. The moment the door swung shut behind us, cutting off the sounds of the gym, the atmosphere shifted.
“You look like you’re about to face a firing squad,” he said, his voice low and a little rough. He leaned against the lockers, crossing his arms. The thin fabric of his practice shirt stretched across his chest, doing little to hide the solid muscle beneath.
“I wasn’t sure that…” I lost my train of thought, my own voice barely a whisper.
“You thought I’d leave you hanging?” A small, wry smile finally touched his lips. “I told you I’d be here. I’m a man of my word, JD.”
The way he said my initials, JD, sent another shiver through me. It sounded intimate, like a shared secret. “I just… the way you didn’t look at me. And your coach…”
“Coach Miller is a dinosaur who thinks any distraction is the end of the world,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “He’s got his eye on me, sure. Thinks I’m his ticket to a state championship. He doesn’t like anything he can’t control.” He pushed off the lockers and took a step closer, the space between us shrinking to just a few feet. “And I can’t focus if I’m looking at you in the stands. It’s… distracting.”
He said the word like it was a physical thing, something tangible between us. My mouth went dry. “In a good way or a bad way?” I asked, the question tumbling out before I could stop it.
Todd’s eyes darkened. He let his gaze drop from my eyes down to my mouth and then back up again. It was a slow, deliberate sweep that felt more intimate than a touch. “What do you think, Mr. Bond?” he murmured, the nickname from earlier returning with twice the intensity.
“I think…” I swallowed hard. “I think I’m in over my head.”
“Maybe,” he conceded, his voice a low rumble. “Or maybe you’re exactly where you need to be.” He took another step, and now he was close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, smell the faint, clean scent of his sweat and something else, something uniquely him. “You said you wanted to be friends.”
“I do,” I said quickly. “I really do.”
“Friends don’t usually look at each other the way you were looking at me,” he stated, his tone not accusatory, but curious. It was a challenge.
“And how was I looking at you?” I shot back, a surge of bravado I didn’t know I possessed.
“Like you wanted to see what was under all this,” he replied, gesturing vaguely to his own body. His eyes held mine, and the raw honesty in them was staggering. “Like you were hungry.”
I couldn’t deny it. He was right. The knot in my stomach had untangled and was now a low, burning heat spreading through my veins. “And what if I was?” I whispered.
A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. It was the first genuine, full smile I’d seen from him, and it was devastating. “Then maybe you should have a taste.” He leaned in just a fraction more, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But not here. Not now.” He pulled back slightly, the tension between us pulling taut like a rubber band. “I have to shower. Meet me out front by the main entrance in fifteen minutes.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He just turned and walked toward the locker room door, leaving me standing there, my pulse racing and my body on fire. He hadn’t beaten me up. He hadn’t set me up. He had seen me, all of me, and he hadn’t run. He’d invited me in. I had a feeling my friendship with Todd was going to be anything but boring.
The fifteen minutes felt like an eternity. I didn't go back to the stands. I paced the length of the quiet corridor, my sneakers squeaking on the polished floor, the sound unnaturally loud in the silence. Every time I passed the door to the locker room, my imagination would run wild, picturing the steam, the water sluicing off his body… I had to force myself to stop, to lean against the cold metal of the lockers and take deep, steadying breaths. My hardness strained against my pants; I was sure everyone would notice. But I couldn’t stop it. This was really happening. The fear had been replaced by a dizzying, electric anticipation that made my hands tremble. I wanted Todd in a way that I had never wanted anything, in a way that I didn’t understand.
I walked out into the crisp October air just as the main doors opened. Todd emerged, his dark hair damp and curling slightly at the nape of his neck. He’d changed into a pair of worn jeans and a simple gray hoodie that did little to hide the broad set of his shoulders. He looked less like a gymnast and more like just another guy from school, but the effect was somehow even more potent. He scanned the emptying parking lot, his eyes finding mine instantly.
“Part of me was worried that you might’ve bailed,” he said, his voice casual, but his eyes held a flicker of something that looked like relief.
“Part of me wanted to, but most of me, well, you know, couldn’t wait to see you come out those doors,” I admitted. “My nerves are having a field day.”
He let out a short, quiet laugh. “Mine too.” He fell into step beside me as we started walking away from the school. We didn’t say where we were going; we just walked. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was charged, filled with all the things we hadn’t said yet.
“So,” he began, breaking the quiet. “You’re not just a gymnastics groupie, then?”
“I’m not a groupie of any kind,” I said, a little too quickly. “I just… I noticed you. The way you move… it’s different. It’s not just power and the skill. It’s art.” I paused for a moment. “Maybe I’m a Todd groupie.” I felt myself smile.
He was quiet for a moment, digesting that. “Most people just see the flips. They don’t see the control. The years of falling on your ass.” He glanced at me, a small smile playing on his lips. “And you see art.”
“I see you,” I corrected softly, “creating art. But there’s more than that. I’m drawn to you, Todd. I think about you. I close my eyes to remember your voice, and just the thought of you does something to my insides.”
He stopped walking. We were standing under a flickering streetlamp on the edge of the school grounds, the orange light casting long shadows around us. He turned to face me fully. “You don’t pull your punches, do you, JD?”
“Should I?” I asked, my heart starting that frantic rhythm again.
“No,” he said, his voice dropping. “I don’t want you to.” He took a step closer, his hand coming up to rest on my arm. His touch was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a jolt straight through me. “I don’t need to ask you if you’re interested.”
I just nodded, unable to speak.
“I am interested in you,” he said, his gaze intense and unwavering. “I’ve noticed you, too. In the hallways. In the library. You’re always quiet, always in your own world. I wanted to know what was going on in there.” He tapped my temple gently with his finger. “But I’m also a guy. And I see a guy I think is hot, and my brain goes offline. So when you’re in the stands, looking at me like that… it’s a problem for me.”
“A good problem?” I asked, echoing our earlier conversation.
“On the one hand, it’s a very good problem,” he confirmed. His thumb started to trace small circles on the sleeve of my jacket. “The kind of problem that makes me feel wanted, but it’s also a problem when it makes it hard to concentrate on landings.”
I let out a shaky breath I didn’t know I was holding. “I don’t want to mess up your gymnastics, Todd.”
“Coach has noticed. I’ve told him not to worry. You’re making me work harder on concentration. I think it’s better for me in the long run. I just have to learn to compartmentalize. Focus on the floor, then focus on… other things.” His eyes dropped to my lips again, and this time, the air between us felt thick, heavy, like it was about to break. “This friendship you want…that I want, it’s going to have a lot of tension.”
“Won’t talking about it relieve some of the tension?” I breathed.
His smile was back, that devastatingly handsome curve of his lips. “It might.” He leaned in, not to kiss me, but closer, his voice a low murmur right next to my ear. “Because I’ve been thinking about what it would feel like to kiss you since last Thursday. And it’s driving me insane.”
I closed my eyes, his words washing over me. I could feel the warmth of his breath, smell the clean, soapy scent from his shower. It was intoxicating. “Then why don’t you?” I whispered, the words barely audible.
He pulled back just enough to look me in the eye, his expression a mixture of hunger and conflict. “Because the first time I kiss you, JD, I don’t want it to be in the shadow of a school where my coach is probably watching us from a window. I want it to be right.” He gave my arm one last, gentle squeeze before letting go. The sudden loss of contact was jarring. “I have to get home. But I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He started to back away, his eyes still locked on mine.
“Tomorrow,” I repeated, the word a promise.
He winked, a quick, confident gesture that made my stomach flip. “And JD?” he called out, already a few feet away. “Try to wear something that makes it a little harder to focus in math class. Something that shows off those muscles that I know you have. I just felt a few of them.”
And then he turned and jogged off into the night, leaving me standing there under the streetlamp, grinning like an idiot. The friendship was definitely going to be a problem. What did those commercials say about an erection lasting longer than four hours? Just thinking about how Todd’s hand on my arm felt was giving me what could turn out to be a perpetual hard on.
Did I say friendship? Because I was pretty sure now that it was more than just a developing friendship. I was falling in love.
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