© Copyright jvaughn, 2013. This is a registered, copyrighted work of fiction. All rights reserved. Copyright violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
*
Paul suppressed a sigh as he headed down the hall to the bathroom. The dim lighting helped to hide the scuffed walls and worn carpet. The dorm smelled of old sweat, dirty socks, and faintly of the strong ammonia cleanser that the janitorial staff used to curb the mold and bacteria that pervaded the fifty-year-old building.
His mind was not on the bleakness of his living quarters tonight, however, it was on the embarrassing date he'd just ended. His dates were often awkward; this one had been downright mortifying.
He had taken Tammy out because it was expected of him. He was a wide receiver on Washington State University's football team. It was his responsibility to date beautiful women. Tammy definitely qualified as that and then some. She had waist-length soft brunette curls, sparkling brown eyes, and the body of a lingerie model. She sat beside him in his economics class, which she was skating right through, so she was plenty smart too.
She was lively and fun, and their flirting had been escalating since classes had started a month earlier. He enjoyed her company and thought maybe things could work between them, but asking her out had turned out to be a huge mistake.
Dinner was fine—they'd gone for pizza at Milly's. It was close to campus, frequented by his friends, and kind to students on a budget. They'd run into several people they knew and ended up sharing a table, pizzas, and pitchers of soda. It was only afterwards, when he walked Tammy home, that he got into trouble.
Their conversation on the way to her apartment had been light. He'd tried to leave her at her doorstep, but she'd cajoled him in for a beer.
That was my first mistake,
he thought.
I never should have gone into her place. It gave her the wrong idea about my intentions.
In spite of her urgings, he had kept his beer consumption to two. He knew better than to drink too much when he had an early class the next day.
She, however, was under no such compunction. She'd consumed four beers in the time it took him to drink two and got more flirtatious with each one. The more aggressive she became, the more uneasy he felt. Most guys would have loved it when she unbuttoned her shirt to show more cleavage, or when she rubbed up against them in the kitchen while they were getting a glass of water. Paul had just panicked.
He knew what was wrong: he preferred guys. It was not something he admitted to anyone. He barely admitted it to himself. Although Washington state had recently legalized gay marriage, that open attitude was firmly confined to the other side of the state. He'd grown up on a farm outside of the Tri-Cities where, at best, gays were ridiculed—more often they were demonized and bullied. WSU had a mix of students from all over the world, so it wasn't entirely conservative, but he was on the football team where anti-gay sentiments were common.
He had tried to squelch his natural tendencies. He'd known he wasn't straight since he was twelve, but he was hoping he was at least bisexual. He wanted to find a girl who could make him happy, it just hadn't happened yet. He'd had sex with girls. He'd even enjoyed it, but he had to be in just the right mood—or perhaps stone-drunk since that's when it always seemed to happen. The girl also had to say and do the right things; if he felt pressured at all, his dick would refuse to cooperate.
That is what had happened with Tammy. She had rushed him and he'd run. Literally.
I must have flirted too much. I must have encouraged her without meaning to.
It was a fine line to walk: flirting enough to keep the girl interested and feeling good about themselves, but not so much that they were brave enough to make advances on their own. He'd underestimated Tammy; she was braver than he thought. She must have assumed he was just shy and needed some additional incentive. She had clearly been tipsy when she'd pulled off her shirt, ostensibly to show him her new lacy bra. That's when he had bolted, wanting to get out quickly before she had a chance to realize his cock was still completely flaccid.
I'm not normal. Most guys would have been all over her.
He winced as he remembered the expression on her face. He hoped the incident wouldn't come back to bite him too badly. At the least, it would be embarrassing to see her in class next week.
Should I give up on girls altogether?
he wondered. He didn't blame Tammy; he was angry with himself. He shouldn't have asked her out and definitely shouldn't have gone into her apartment. Now it was already after midnight. He should have come home early and been sound asleep by now.
While he'd been ruminating over his disastrous evening, he had reached the bathroom, set his toiletry bag on the counter, and gotten ready to brush his teeth. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he noted that the bruise he'd gotten on his cheek during practice a few days earlier had faded. His thick blond hair was sticking up more than usual—he was way overdue for a haircut, but never seemed to have the time or the money. He looked tired, the redness in his eyes making his blue irises appear smoky gray.
He was just about to turn the water on when he heard a small noise coming from the shower area. He paused and tilted his head to listen. It came again and this time he was sure it was a sob.
What the hell?
He moved on quiet bare feet around the corner into the shower area. If it was some freshman crying because he was homesick or his girlfriend had dumped him, then he would probably give him his privacy, but there had been a truly distressed quality to the sob he'd heard, and something told him he needed to make sure that whoever it was wasn't about to commit suicide or something.
The shower area was made of individual stalls with changing cubicles, and the noise was coming from the one furthest away.
Should I say something or just peek in?
he wondered. Whoever was in the last stall sucked in their breath sharply and then moaned. He sounded like he was in pain. That decided for it Paul.
"Hey, are you okay?" he called as he strode quickly to the end stall and pulled open the curtain.
The sight that met his eyes was one he would remember vividly for a long time to come. A thin, young man was huddled on the wet tile floor in the corner of the shower. He was naked and visibly shaking, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. His face was buried in his arms, but he looked up in alarm as Paul swept the curtain aside. His huge dark eyes were filled with terror and glassy with pain. There were tear streaks down his face and a red mark was blooming on his cheek as if he'd been struck.
"What happened?" Paul asked as he entered the changing stall. He was about to ask the youth if he were okay again, but he clearly was not. As Paul squatted in front of him, the young man stiffened and then whimpered in pain. He was clearly terrified, and the sound he made ripped into Paul's gut like a knife.
