Chapter 2

I heard a dramatic gasp...

“JASON WHAT THE FUCK!”

Oh no.

I knew that voice. It was deep and familiar. It was a voice that commanded our attention in World History class every other day, one that had cheered our team on from the sidelines at every football game: the voice of my best friend’s father.

Mr. Nash.

My mind went cold, unable to process what was happening. It was impossible. I must have been so high on adrenaline that I was hallucinating. With trembling fingers, I reached up and tore the blindfold from my eyes. The outside swam into focus and there he was, standing a few feet away, his stance guarded, almost fight-or-flight like.

He looked exactly like he did at school, only a thousand times more out of place. He wore a gray hoodie with a bomber jacket over it and a pair of jeans. His short black hair was rigidly in place and his beard neatly trimmed. But his face held pure shock written all over it.

His normally handsome features were twisted, his mouth slightly agape, his eyes wide with a horror that mirrored my own. Mr. Nash was only 40, having had my best friend Bradley at just 22, and his wife had died five years ago, leaving Mr. Nash alone and widowed. He was the coolest teacher in school and clearly knew me through Bradley.

We both stared in shock, waiting for the other to make a move of some kind. I glanced down and realized he walked in to the view of my gaping asshole drooling cum out of it. My dick was standing straight up at him now, smooth and pointing at the target that had been next in line to tear me apart. My hands flew down, scrambling to yank up my pants with frantic, clumsy movements, desperately trying to cover the damning evidence of what I’d been doing.

A tidal wave of sickening shame washed over me and my power bottom facade vanished, replaced with eighteen-year-old terror from being caught in this fucked up, vulnerable way.

“Mr ... Nash?” I breathed, my voice barely a whisper.

My name on his lips had broken the spell, and now his shock morphed into a furious, panicked anger. “What the fuck are you doing, Jason?!” he boomed, his deep voice echoing under the bleachers and rattling me to my core. It was the raw, intimidating voice I’d only ever heard when Bradley had really fucked up growing up. “What were you doing? Why are you...” he wore a look of disgust warring with his own panic.

Wait a minute. He was here too.

My initial shock gave way to my usual aggressive instincts. I was cornered, and decided my only way out was to fucking unleash hell.

“What am I doing?” I yelled back, my voice cracking. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

“I ... I was...” he stammered, his usual cool, no-nonsense demeanor completely gone. He looked trapped, his eyes darting from me to the ground and back again. “I heard someone under here and decided to check it out!”

The lie was so pathetic that it was almost laughable. There were zero reasons for him to still be at the field this long after the game and I knew Bradley had probably showered and darted at least half an hour ago. I thought about the profile. A blank face that had read 40 years old, 6’2”, and close enough to likely live within a few minutes of my house. It all clicked.

“You’re trying to pretend you just decided to hang out on the empty field after our game?” I shot back, taking a step toward him. “Don’t bullshit me. You came here to try to fuck a guy!”

His face went pale, a ghostly white beneath his tan and beard. He flinched as if I’d slapped him.

“No!” he said, but the denial was weak, laced with a stutter that betrayed him completely. “N-no, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wouldn’t...” He shook his head, looking anywhere but at me. “This is a mistake. A complete mistake.”

My rage was now mixed with a strange, hollow feeling. This was the dad of my best friend. I didn’t know him that well, as he kept a distance from Bradley’s friends since he was a teacher, but I still knew him enough from class and generally when I hung out over there after school. I’d also watched him mourn his wife, Bradley’s mom, the last five years and had felt sad for him And here he was, lying through his teeth, just as scared and clearly as closeted as I was. We were the same. And I knew how I could turn the tables to protect myself.

“You’re a fucking liar.” I spat, the words tasting like acid. “I was just on there to fuck with whoever your profile was. To see who was lurking around. And it was you!”

He couldn’t hold my gaze. His eyes were wide with a terror that went beyond getting caught. I saw it all flash across his face: his job, his reputation, his son. The thought of my best friend finding any of this out was like a punch to the gut.

Mr. Nash seemed to have the same thought. His whole body tensed, and the last of his composure crumbled. He looked at me one last time, his expression a chaotic mess of fear mixed with a plea.

“This never happened.” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “You understand me, Jason? This. Never. Happened.”

And then he was gone. He didn’t just walk out; he fled, his footsteps pounding on the dirt as he jogged from the field.

Fuck

I didn’t sleep a single minute that night. My entire life flashed before my eyes and the stories I’d told myself about how easy it was to hide what I was doing fell apart in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, I found myself strategizing whether I’d deny it if it came out. Or maybe I should just own it? Would my friends accept me? All these terrible questions that my cocky, arrogant, mind had never contemplated rushed through me in the span of eight sleepless hours tossing in my bed.

Ultimately, I knew that, once again, I had to act first and fast to head off where this could go. There was no chance I was about to go through the weekend, or beyond, just hoping Mr. Nash didn’t screw me over. If I could get to him first, then it would be game over and I’d keep the upper hand.

I knew I had to tell Bradley. I couldn’t risk Mr. Nash outing me to my best friend and controlling the narrative of why he’d been there. Plus, if I said something first, then I knew I’d have an easier time denying his dad saying that he’d found me like he had.

I waited until after our practice on Monday. It was normal for him and I to take our time in the locker room after to make sure we set the right example for the team to work hard and long hours. This was usually my favorite part of practice because it was when I got to glance over at my best friend’s ass after we used the showers in the locker room. They were private stalls, unfortunately, but him and I had been close for so long that neither of us put much effort into privacy when we were changing.

I sat on the bench in my underwear, waiting for him to finish after practice. Everyone else had already wrapped up and left. I was holding my head in my hands, both because I was still so fucking terrified, but also because I needed to make sure that Bradley saw how fucking distraught I was when he came back from the shower.

He finally returned a few minutes later in a towel and nodded in my direction. He was 6’3” (191cm), so slightly taller than his dad, and was, by far, the most alpha on our team. We were co-captains of the defense and while I was ripped and toned, he was much bigger in stature than I was and played strong safety. His calling cards were his massive hits that he leveled on opposing receivers every game, and they’d earned him his stout reputation. He was relatively tan, handsome like his father, and had a 5 o’clock shadow that suggested he’d have the old man’s beard down the line too.