Incoming Freshman (3 page)

“Not many do. That’s why he might just be the perfect roommate for Bobby Ray,” Demitri said.

“If Dane’s interested, how much do you think he’ll want in rent? I don’t know much about Bobby Ray’s financial status, but he lost his dad last year, so things might be kinda tight at home.”

Demitri grinned. “He bought the house from Tony Bianchi, paid cash. If he agrees to share space with Bobby Ray, I doubt rent will be a deciding factor.”

The sliding glass door opened and Aaron stepped out onto the patio. “Dane said he’d consider it, but he wants to meet Bobby Ray before he makes a final decision.”

“That’s fair,” Chet agreed. “He’s due in town Thursday. If you can set up a meeting, I’ll make sure he’s there.”

“How about a small barbecue on Thursday night? We could do it here at the house,” Aaron offered. “Might be a nice way to introduce Bobby Ray to a few people.”

“Sounds good.” Hopefully Bobby would hit it off with Dane and Chet’s problem would be solved.

* * * *

With his battered truck loaded with everything he’d need for the next year, Bobby pulled into town on Wednesday night and parked in the first empty lot he could find. His nerves and a constant supply of coffee were the only thing keeping him awake.

Bobby tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Although he should probably just sleep in his truck again, the lure of seeing Chet Sloan and sleeping in a real bed was a temptation he couldn’t deny. He pulled his prepaid phone out of the glove box and dialled Chet’s number.

“Hello?” a sleepy voice answered.

“Chet?”

“Bobby Ray? Is there something wrong?”

“No. I just got to town and wondered if I could crash on your couch or something?”

“Wait. What? How’d you get here so fast?”

“I decided to drive straight through instead of spending money for a hotel.” Bobby didn’t mention the need to see Chet had spurred him into making the decision. “Anyway, is it okay if I come by?”

Chet went silent for several moments. “I’m not…” Chet sighed heavily into the phone. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Bobby had a feeling Chet would say no, so he was prepared. “Really? You’d rather I spent the night in my truck after driving for the last twenty-seven hours to get here?”

Once again, Chet sighed heavily. “No, of course not.” After another moment of silence, he spoke again. “You have something to write on?”

“I’ll punch it into the GPS Mom bought me.” Bobby typed in the address as Chet rattled it off. “Got it.”

“See you in about ten minutes.”

“Thanks,” Bobby replied. He powered down the phone and stuck it back into the glove box before starting the truck.

Although he couldn’t wait to see Chet, he was under no illusion the man would immediately fall into his arms. It would take time for Chet to lower his walls enough for Bobby to sneak over them, but once he did, he wasn’t about to let Chet get away from him a second time.

* * * *

Chet jumped out of bed and threw on a pair of sleep pants and a T-shirt.
What the fuck am I doing?
Whether it was the late hour or the fatigue he’d detected in Bobby’s voice, he hadn’t been strong enough to tell him no. He walked across the hall and opened the guest room door.

“Ah, shit.” He’d forgotten about the state of the room. For weeks he’d been meaning to go through the boxes shipped from his sister Jenny after she’d sold their fathers’ house. He briefly considered making Bobby sleep on the sofa, but in the end decided to hand over his own room for the night.

Chet closed the door securely and rushed to the living room. The room wasn’t messy, but there were several empty beer cans along with a recent Playgirl magazine on the coffee table. He scooped them up and dashed into the kitchen.

After the cans were deposited in the recycling bin and the magazine stuffed in a drawer, Chet got to work loading the dishwasher. The doorbell rang before he got the last of the glasses taken care of and Chet made a mental note to clean his fucking house as soon as Bobby was settled with Dane.

On the way to the front door, Chet stopped and took a deep breath. He quickly ran through all the reasons he’d left Arizona in an effort to shore up his walls, but when the bell rang again, Chet was left more uncertain than he’d ever been.

He’s just a kid
, he reminded himself, reaching for the lock.
Oh fuck, not a kid at all
, he realised upon seeing Bobby for the first time in three years.

“Hey,” Bobby said around a million dollar smile.

At a loss for words, Chet stepped back, allowing Bobby entrance into the house. The fresh-faced boy from Arkansas had been replaced by a man handsome enough to grace the pages of the magazine he’d jacked off to earlier. Bobby’s heavy five o’clock shadow was testament to just how much he’d matured since they’d been apart.

“Chet? Are you okay?” Bobby asked, setting down a large duffle bag.

“Yeah. Of course.” Chet tried to play off his inability to reconcile his sudden bout of lust with the first excuse he could come up with. “I was sleeping when you called. Guess I’m still pretty fuzzy.”

“Sorry about that.” Bobby hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans, drawing Chet’s attention to his cock, and looked around the living room. “Nice house.”

“Thanks.” Turning away from the tempting outline trapped behind Bobby’s zipper, Chet gestured towards the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Bobby grinned. “I don’t suppose you’d let me have a beer?”

“You suppose right,” Chet grumbled. “Contributing to the delinquency…”

“I just turned twenty-two,” Bobby said, cutting Chet off.

“Oh, right.” Chet knew he could use conditioning as an excuse, but he wasn’t naïve enough to believe his players didn’t drink on occasion. “Just one.”

Bobby followed Chet into the kitchen. “Mom said to tell you hi.”

“How’s she doing?” Chet asked, retrieving two cans of beer from the fridge. Bobby’s mention of his mom helped to cool his thoughts of lust. Chet watched Bobby open his beer and take a big drink. The moment of distraction gave him a chance to look his fill. Where was the boy he’d gone fishing with? Admittedly, Chet had worried for years that his feelings for Bobby had more to do with his respect for the superstar who was more down to earth than any athlete he’d ever come into contact with. But watching Bobby drink the beer, Chet realised it was so much more. He was emotionally bonded to Bobby like he’d never been with another. What was it that Bobby possessed that no other man had ever come close to? Bobby swallowed and picked the conversation back up, bringing Chet out of his musings.

“Good, real good. I know it sounds bad, but I think she’s happier than she’s been in years. She joined some social group in Pine Bluff. I’m still not sure what all they do, but she leaves the house once a week wearing a stupid-looking red hat.” Bobby shook his head and chuckled. “Dumbest damn hat I’ve ever seen, but I don’t have the heart to tell her.”

Chet tried to keep his eyes from roaming Bobby’s body while he spoke, but failed miserably. Although Bobby looked older, his body appeared the same if not smaller than the last time Chet had seen him.
Held him.
“Have you been keeping up with your conditioning regime?”

Bobby stared at the top of the can in his hand and slowly lifted it to his mouth without answering. Chet watched the muscles in Bobby’s throat as he gulped the beer. It was obvious he was putting off an answer. “Bobby?”

Setting the empty can on the kitchen island, Bobby shook his head. “I’ve slacked off a bit this summer.”

“Why would you do something like that? We both know it’s gonna be hell getting those muscles built back up to where they need to be.” Chet wondered if Bobby’s father’s death had affected him more than he’d let on.

“I know,” Bobby mumbled. “But Coach Nelson told me NCIU has one of the best trainers around.”

“True, but you’ve only got a week before practice starts.” Something didn’t feel right. “This isn’t like you. Have you changed that much from the kid who used to eat, drink and breathe football?”

“I’ll be ready! I’ve had a shitty year. Give me a fucking break, would ya?”

Bobby headed for the living room, but before he could get far, Chet reached out and grabbed the young man’s forearm, pulling him up short. “You’re right. I’m sorry about your dad. I lost mine two years ago and it still hurts every damn day. But you can’t let that pain stand in the way of your future.”

Bobby reached up and covered Chet’s hand that still rested on his arm. “I could’ve really used your support last year,” he whispered. “A lot happened, and I didn’t have anyone to talk to.”

“You were at Arizona for three years. Don’t tell me you didn’t make a single friend in all that time.”

Bobby dropped his hand and pulled away from Chet’s hold. “There were a few guys I kicked around with, but they weren’t the kind of friends you’d open up to.”

Chet hated the sadness in Bobby’s dark brown eyes. “You could’ve called.”

With a snort, Bobby walked over and picked up his duffle. “The phone goes both ways, Chet. You had to have known how much I needed you, but instead of reaching out you sent a hundred dollar bouquet of flowers to a funeral home.” He gestured to the couch. “I’m dead on my feet. Is that my bed for the rest of the night?”

Chet shook his head. Not only had he let a player and friend down, but he’d hurt someone he loved because he was too chicken shit to face him. “Take my room. The guestroom’s full of boxes, so I’ll sleep there.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Bobby protested.

Chet needed time to process his feelings. Shame warred with anger over Bobby’s lack of conditioning. Add in the fact that he still had romantic feelings for Bobby, and Chet’s emotions seemed to be all over the place. “Just take it.”

* * * *

Bobby dropped his bag on the floor at the foot of Chet’s bed and glanced around the room. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he was back in Chet’s Arizona house. The curtains, bedspread and pictures were the same. Only the layout had changed.

A picture on Chet’s dresser caught his attention. He walked over and lifted the eight by ten framed photo and smiled. It was Chet hoisting the shiny bowl trophy over his head, surrounded by his entire team.

Despite his sour mood, Bobby couldn’t help but smile. He’d recorded the bowl game and had watched it close to a hundred times. It wasn’t the game itself he’d been interested in, but the proud and confident coach who had stepped in to fill Coach Nelson’s shoes at the last minute. It had been the highlight of Chet’s career and Bobby hadn’t been there to share it with him.

Setting the picture down, Bobby undressed and sat on the edge of the bed. He methodically unwrapped the elastic bandage from around his left knee and tossed it to the floor. He rubbed the sore and slightly swollen area and wondered again if he was making the right decision. Since injuring his
anterior cruciate ligament, or
ACL, ten weeks earlier, his recovery hadn’t been what the doctors’ had hoped. Without surgery to repair the partial tear of the ligament that helped stabilise his knee, Bobby would be in for weeks of rehabilitation. However, with surgery, he’d be out for the season for sure. It had been a hard choice, but opting for rehabilitation had seemed the most sensible choice.

After talking it over with his mom, Bobby had decided to continue with physical therapy. If he resorted to surgery, there’d be no way he could play football in his senior year, and getting the full-ride scholarship was imperative to finishing his education.

He lifted his bag onto his lap and searched for the bottle of massage oil. Coming up empty, it dawned on him he’d left it in the truck. “Shit.”

Instead of redressing, Bobby scanned the room, looking for lotion or something. When he didn’t see anything useful, he slid open the top drawer on the bedside table. Just as he’d suspected, he found lube. It took him several seconds to gather the nerve to remove the bottle from the drawer, but once he had his gaze landed on something even more interesting.

Bobby set the lube on the table and reached back into the drawer. He moved aside the flesh-coloured dildo and retrieved the picture. His hands started to shake as he stared at the photograph taken of him on the day of his high school graduation. It was obvious from the well-worn picture that it had been held often. The fact that it had been in the same drawer with the lube and dildo gave him hope.

He squashed the urge to run across the hall and question Chet about the picture, knowing Chet would only deny he still had sexual thoughts about him. “I know your secret,” he whispered to the photograph on the dresser. Coach or not, Chet was still a man, and Bobby had seduced several of them in the previous three years.

After carefully replacing the photograph, Bobby picked up the lube and went to work massaging his knee. He needed to come up with a plan of action, and what better place to do it than Chet’s bed.

Chapter Three

Chet glanced at the closed bedroom door. It was nearing three o’clock in the afternoon and Bobby had yet to emerge. He hated to wake him. It was obvious the man needed his sleep, but they were going to be late. Lifting his hand, Chet rapped his knuckles against the door. “Bobby?”

When he received no answer, he opened the door. Before he could call the name again, his gaze landed on a nude body tangled in the sheets, his sheets. Chet bit his bottom lip. Knowing it was wrong, he tried to step back and shut the door, but his feet wouldn’t budge.

Chet’s eyebrows drew together when he figured out what was so different. Bobby hadn’t merely slacked off on his training, he was downright thin. His worry overrode everything else. He tossed the blanket over Bobby’s bare hip, hiding the tempting ass from view before sitting on the bed. “Time to get up,” he said, eyeing the bottle of lube on the table.
Had Bobby gone through his drawers?
“Bobby!” he said with heat.

With a groan, Bobby rolled over and opened his big brown eyes. Spotting Chet beside him, he smiled. “Morning.”