Just As

Thanks for your kind words and encouragement! I am thankful for everyone who takes the time to read my stories.

When I wrote the last chapter a year ago, they were going to Waffle House. This was before recent current events... I mean no disrespect by setting part of this chapter there. It's simply for the integrity and continuity of the story. For all intents and purposes, Just Ask -from the first chapter to the sixth- is set in 2014, when I started writing it. After all, it's only been three days for Hayden and Jackson...

* * * * * * * * * *

I remember the first time I saw him.

It was on a tour of the college, I was still a senior in high school. I had spent my spring break up there, way up in the mountains, at a football recruiting camp. To be honest, I couldn't have cared less about college. I didn't even want to go. I had NFL scouts looking at me pretty early, and I knew I was destined to play for the big leagues. My parents, however, had other ideas.

"You need a college degree," my dad had said. "You need something to fall back on. Football isn't a career you can count on," and I resented him for it. I was going to lose four years of peak playing condition because of him insisting I get an education. The only education I needed was what I could get on the field.

"One day you're going to join me in business," he said. "I can't hire you without that degree. And if you want to be financially stable and make enough to retire, it starts with a degree. A business degree," he added. "You can get that here. And this program really wants you..."

I sighed and kept walking. The college was nestled in a small, rural mountain town three and a half hours away from my home city, the state capital. It was not my first choice. If I had to play college ball, I wanted to play for State, or even the big mountain college in the state system twenty minutes away, but I didn't have the grades to play D1. I barely had the grades to be recruited for D2. But the small schools like this, they make exceptions for talented players- as my mom frequently reminded me. But no NFL team would look at me if I went D2.

"They're offering you a big scholarship to play here! And they have a great academic assistance program," she enthused, pouring over the pamphlets she picked up from the admissions office. "You can do what you love and get help earning your degree. Nobody cares about your high school transcripts after college anyway." I'm sure she meant it to be helpful, but it didn't comfort me any.

"And when you work for me, we can talk about getting you in the continuing executive studies program, once you've worked long enough to qualify," my dad said. "Then you can go to grad school for free!" My parents really had a one-track mind. I knew the plan- bachelor of science in business administration, then on to a master of business administration. Train to take over dad's company. Set myself up for a life of financial stability. Buy a home early. Start a family early. Retire early. Play golf until I die. Sports are great and build character, but they have no place in my career after college. Basically, become my father and give up all hope of an exciting life. Maybe I could squeeze three or four years out of the NFL if they're still interested after I graduate...

We were part of a large group of touring students, but we hadn't yet started the tour. Our guide, an annoyingly peppy brunette in crisp slacks and a windbreaker emblazoned with the school's logo, enthusiastically informed us that her major was Psychology (groundbreaking), that she was a soccer athlete (inspiring), and that she loooooved being at a small college where 'everyone felt like family' (sickening). She mentioned that we were waiting on one last family to arrive and that they should be here any minute. I took a look at the other members of the group. A few guys I recognized from the football camp, but other than that, no one special. But I was looking for something in particular.

When I came out as gay, my parents were surprised but they didn't take it hard or anything. I'm their only child so they have to love me no matter what. I was sixteen, a sophomore, and madly in love with a senior. He said he wouldn't date me if I wasn't out, so I came out to my parents right after practice that day.

There were a few moments of silence, and then my dad said, "You know I never had anything against the gays. I don't understand the lifestyle, but if that's how you want to live I'm not going to stop you. I know plenty of gay CEOs, they're all great guys," and I groaned internally because of course, he would only be bothered by a lifestyle that doesn't result in financial instability.

My mom was a little warmer. "I'm so proud you feel comfortable enough with us to share, sweetie! Remember, you can come to us with anything, anything at all. And gay people still live normal lives and have normal families." Ugh. Kill me.

The kicker was the boy I was madly in love didn't follow through after I came out. He was just using it as an excuse to not date me. Turns out he liked fucking me but didn't want to give me his heart. I'd given him my heart and my virginity too. That was a rough year.

I had sort of wanted a falling out. Some kind of drama, at least! My parents were maddeningly focused on my future. They glossed over the pain of my first heartbreak, choosing instead to focus on my sports career- but they emphasized that football was a means to get a scholarship, nothing more. They didn't see how much I truly loved playing. It's what I was born for. They were convinced that a modest inclination toward math was my true gift, and my ticket to a lifetime of island cruises and country club memberships.

I can't be too mad at them, though. After all, they're good old southern folk. Neither one grew up poor, but they both worked hard and believed in managing their money. My dad played golf in college and did the Wall Street thing for a few years. My mom played tennis and practiced corporate law. After they married, they decided the Big Apple wasn't a good place to raise a family, so they moved back home down south and started a business together. Eventually they got to a place where they could set their own schedule, just kinda let the business make money for them. They still ran it together, they just didn't have to work every day. Their retirement accounts were full and so was my college savings. They were both planners and took great pleasure in mapping out every detail of the future. Somehow I didn't inherit that gift...

They had trouble conceiving and I was the 'miracle baby'. So they wanted a lot for me and went out of their way to support me. So don't get me wrong, I'm not ungrateful- but sometimes I can't help but feel that my parents don't really listen. I just wish they would get fazed by something for once! I wish I could throw a wrench in their plans!

I knew I saw that something special I was looking for the moment he walked in the door. He was long, lean, and lanky. And tall! Long, brown hair that fluttered past his shoulders. Piercing blue eyes, a blue so deep I could see it from several feet away. Eyelashes so thick it was like he was wearing mascara- but there was no clumping or any traces of makeup. Maybe he was born with it. His jeans were too short and his tee shirt was old and worn out. A strong jaw and forehead with delicate features. Perfect pink lips, the bottom lip bigger than the top. A nose that looked straight from center but had a slight hook from profile. My breath caught in my throat. He was stunning.

I realized that my cock had plumped up and would start to show if I wasn't careful. I would be mortified to pop a boner in front of all these people, on my college tour. I subtly adjusted myself and studied the new arrival.

Some people think that pretty men with long hair can be mistaken for a girl. There was no mistaking him for a woman. He had a boyish face on a man's body, wide shoulders to slim hips, long, lean legs. A relaxed, perfect posture and an easy grace as he walked. He was a stark contrast to his mom, she was short and squat and walked with a labor. Her clothes were also pretty well worn. She seemed to be out of breath just walking up the stairs to the building. The resemblance was strong but he had a stronger brow and cheek bones. The eyes were different, too; but they had the same hair. They got checked in and caught up and the tour started.

He walked by me, passed me once on the tour. The football guys kept mostly together, getting extra tour info from the coach and recruiter. The look on his face as he realized what sport we played devastated me- it was a mix of utter contempt and distaste. I don't think he even saw me. I had a great view of his ass, though. It was quite possibly the most exquisite work of art I had ever seen. Muscular, bubbly, and attached to some seriously killer legs. I found myself wondering what sport he played. Maybe he was a runner- but they usually had small butts. Maybe a swimmer? That would explain the physique, but again, not the ass.

I missed a question from the recruiter and my dad had to zone me back in. I silently cursed myself for not paying attention. I had to discreetly flip my cock into my waistband so I could walk.

Now I don't think of myself as model handsome, but I never had any trouble getting a boy to notice me. Usually, I had my pick of boys. I have a strong body from football and my parents blessed me with good looks. I have never had trouble pulling. But until then, I'd NEVER been totally ignored, never been lumped in with the undesirables. It was such a queer feeling!

I kept trying to keep pace with him, just to be close to him. I wanted him to notice me so bad. He didn't even throw a second look my way. Eventually I gave up and stuck with my football people and my parents, listening to him chat good naturedly with his mom and the tour guide. He even talked to other students and parents- he and his mom were very social. I wish he would be social with me. The thing that hurt most was seeing his smile- it made the sun look dim! I couldn't even take in the mountain scenery (that my mom gushed over), because all I could do was steal glances at him. And he was totally, frustratingly, infuriatingly oblivious.

* * * * * * * * * *

He had to leave the tour early. He said something about a scholarship audition, and he and his mom rushed off to a part of campus I had never been to before. I saw him one more time before the day was done- talking to a professor, a willowy woman with wild hair and hippie yoga clothes. As we passed, I ached for him to look at me- he did not. I tuned my parents out to catch what I could in passing. They were talking about early admit and I heard the professor say, "...pleased you'll be joining us. We look forward to seeing you in the fall."

I tuned back in just as the recruiter was saying, "Normally we don't ask for early commitment, but Jackson, we think you'd be a great addition to the team. Technically, we're bound by the NCAA and can't make a formal offer yet; but, I would love to make an off-the-record, informal offer. Our first string quarterback graduates next year. We need a strong player to replace him. You'll start second string, but in your sophomore year you'll start. What do you say?"

My parents held their breath as they waited. They had put on the pressure but ultimately wouldn't make the decision for me. I could see that this was where they wanted me to go. It wasn't too far to visit (as my mom had told me often enough on the tour), and it was just far enough that they wouldn't be there all the time. This team really wanted me, and I would get good playing time- if not for the first year.

"I'd like to informally accept your offer," I said, shaking the recruiter's hand. My parents almost died in disbelief.

But I'd be lying if I said I accepted for any other reason than the possibility I might see him again...

* * * * * * * * * * *

I didn't see him again for another torturous three months. I couldn't have cared less about my last months of high school. I was ready to graduate. Summer sucked. I couldn't get him off my mind the whole time. The college was a little old-fashioned so they did all their freshman registration on the first day you showed up for fall semester. The first week of open campus was basically just to get the freshmen set up and settled in. On Friday of that week, the older students would move in and then on Monday classes started.

I was at the testing site where they make you basically take another SAT to determine what level of classes you get into, waiting patiently at my assigned computer to start my test. I knew I would skip some math levels (math being the only AP courses I was smart enough to take), but I was positive I would have to take remedial English. I hated reinforcing the dumb jock stereotype but I couldn't string together a sentence to save my life. And doing the weird fish thing with sentences? Not a chance.

He walked in just on time, hair still wet like he had just showered. I couldn't help but picture him naked in the shower, all those lean muscles on display, that fat ass just begging to be touched... I felt my little Jackson rise to attention and willed it back down. I tried to focus so I wouldn't be in remedial math, too.

The proctor pointed to his assigned seat and holy shit, it was right next to me. I caught myself hyperventilating before I caught myself. So not the way to make a good first impression. His eyes skimmed over the room, past me like he didn't even see me. I felt a weird twinge in my heart. Like I had been stabbed. But he was going to be sitting next to me, there's no way he could ignore me. I was going to shoot my shot.

He sat down and got logged in to his computer, body turned slightly away from me. Whether that was purposeful or not I don't know. I had just worked up the courage to introduce myself when the proctor announced the testing had started. Fuck! I'm not like this- I need to get my head in the game.

I could barely focus on the test, with him sitting right next to me. Whereas he seemed to be totally engrossed in the testing, stock still, I was too nervous to concentrate. My leg jiggled and I tried to take steady breaths. I kept looking out of the side of my eye, hoping that he would make eye contact. Or notice me at all. He was so close that I could have brushed his leg with mine. I wanted to, but I didn't- the memory of that withering look from the tour was all the discouragement I needed.

He smelled so good. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. His shampoo was clean and citrus, and he had to have had some kind of cologne on... it was sweet, smoky, and spicy. I was so ridiculously turned on. My cock ached for attention. I could almost hear it crying out. But there was nothing I could do about it, so I just ignored it and tried to take my test.

After the testing completed, me being one of the first to finish and he being one of the last, we were ushered into another room to wait for our scores. They were printed immediately and handed to each of us. Then we were separated into groups- I got sat with the football freshmen and he got sat with the honors kids. Of course he would be honors. He's fucking perfect.

I looked at my scores. I'd placed right past statistics and into calculus. That's perfect because I scored a 5 on AP Calc exam, which meant I could go right into the next section of calculus. I'd just basically skipped like two years worth of math prerequisites for my degree. I was dismayed when my counselor informed me that I still had to meet the minimum amount of required credits in math to get the degree, which meant I just had to take more advanced maths. I figured I could declare a minor in math or something and get more bang for my buck. I knew my parents would be pleased, though, because that meant my transcript would be that much stronger for grad programs.

I was right about the English score, though. My recommendation was for a course labeled ENG-100. The lowest fucking level of English possible. "College Prep English with Applications": aka English for Idiots. I'm not sure if I was more pleased when I found out that most of my teammates were in the class with me or dismayed that we were such stereotypes- but at least I wouldn't be alone.

I looked over at the honors table and saw him, laughing about his scores with the other honors students. His smile seriously lit up the room. He was so beyond beautiful. It gave me a funny feeling in my stomach. Even with my first love, I had not felt this moony. It hurt to watch him smile knowing that if he even knew I existed, he wouldn't want anything to do with me.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The first few weeks of college passed by in a blur. I made tons of new friends, was constantly practicing, rushed the football frat (and got adopted by the Brother who was the current first-string quarterback). I was living large and having a blast. My classes were not all bad, not even remedial English. I actually kind of enjoyed it. The professor was a mousy woman with a squeaky voice who really enjoyed her subject and made it easy to understand. For the first time in my life, I was understanding the subject and doing really well. I was even tutoring some of my teammates.

Amidst all the parties, and it seemed like there was at least one every night, I kept a weather eye out for him. I hadn't seen him since registration. I tried everything- I wandered around campus at odd hours, I looked for him everywhere I went. No matter what I tried I could not seem to run into him. I started to think maybe he had transferred. I was happy but there was a hole in my heart. I had it bad for this stranger. I had never even spoken to him!

I saw him a month into the semester. I was at one of my frat's parties, drinking with some friends. I was openly gay among the athletes, and while I got some flack for it, mostly nobody cared. I guess nobody wanted to fuck with the upcoming star quarterback, especially after the current star quarterback said I was cool. I had been making out with a really thotty guy in a dark hallway, and I mean really thotty. Like he put my hand down his pants and asked me snap his thong. I obliged, because who am I to deny that? We were both very drunk and he suddenly started doing that half-choke thing you do where you're about to throw up, so I took him to the bathroom, helped him down to the toilet, and left him to work it out.

I was scooping out another drink for myself from the jungle juice bowl when I saw him. He was with a girl, comically tiny next to his tall frame. She had big hair and eyes, and they were dancing together so obscenely. They were both pretty drunk. My eyes surely glowed green as I watched her grinding on him, more jealous than I have ever been. Of course he's straight, how could I assume he's gay? That's why he had no interest in me. I cursed myself for not seeing it sooner. I can be such an egomaniac!

My buddy Slim came up to me. He's a big guy with an even bigger cock (and yes, I have seen it- and sucked it, anybody would). He clapped my shoulder and leaned in real close. His eyes were bloodshot and his breath was foul. "Hey bud," he slurred, "Whatcha got goin' on with that thot in the bathroom, huh? I was thinking he could use a good time," and he stumbled a little.

I laughed. "Is he done throwing up yet? I should go check on him," I said, glad that I hadn't been caught in my jealousy monster moment.

"Nah," Slim said, "He's still puking. Just wanted to make sure you didn't have dibs on him. He's got some pretty lips on him," I laughed at that, Slim was not the most sophisticated guy but he was right. The boy had some DSLs.

"I don't have 'dibs' or anything but I'm pretty sure he wants me to fuck him. I might not be able to get it up though, I think I've got whiskey dick," I said, cupping my crotch. In truth I was very hard from watching my dream boy dancing, but my jeans were loose so it didn't show too bad.