Eligible Receiver: A First Time Gay Romance (Bareback University) Read online

  Eligible Receiver

  Bareback University Book 4

  Angel Lovecox

  Contents

  Eligible Receiver

  Bonus Novelette: Straight Into His Arms

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2017 by Angel Lovecox

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Eligible Receiver

  1

  Carter looked up from his book, running a frustrated hand through glossy dark hair.

  “For Pete's sake! Not now...later.”

  He glared at his phone, willing it to stop ringing. It didn't. Carter sighed. He set aside his copy of Frieden, Lake and Schultz's World Politics, ran a weary hand across aching eyes and reached for the annoyance.

  “Hello?” he growled.

  “Hey! Bro! Why so fierce, man?”

  Carter sighed. Mike. His big brother.

  “Hey,” he said, more gently. His brother, if anything, had sounded rather hurt. Feeling a stab of guilt, Carter continued. “Sorry, man. Things are rough.”

  “Rough?” Mike sounded instantly worried.

  “It's okay,” Carter sighed. “I'm not dead.”

  Mike chuckled. “I guessed. But you are okay, aren't you? I mean...”

  Carter bit his lip. “It's just the workload, Mike. It's getting me down. I have a big exam coming up, and Prof. Wilding is on my case for final chapters...it's crazy down here.” He let out a ragged breath, feeling his arm droop wearily just thinking about it. For the last week he wasn’t sure how much he had even slept. The whole semester had been a whirl of action and demands, from courses to the thesis he was working on, dealing with the interplay of culture and governance systems. His adviser seemed to be pleased with it, but he never stopped badgering Carter, pushing him to greater heights, expecting him to be the best—and it wore him down.

  Mike was silent a second, then spoke. “Brother o’ mine, you know what? You work too hard.”

  Carter sighed. It was an argument they’d had several times in the past. He really didn't want to get involved. Not now. His brother—finished school four years ago and already with a prosperous job as physical therapist—would not get this.

  “I know. But I have to. It's like that.” He bit his lip, hoping Mike would switch topics. Some hope. His big brother had always looked out for him. They were very close.

  Mike sighed. “You take this stuff too seriously. I mean, you're smart! Don't sweat it. You know what?”

  “What?”

  “If you studied half as much, you'd still know all the stuff. I know you.”

  Carter let his breath out slowly. Maybe Mike was right. Maybe he did stress out too much. Going blank through tiredness was far more likely than his actually knowing zero about a topic: he had been working steadily all year, checking in whenever he didn't understand a topic, attending class every day. He did know his stuff: All the Profs said so.

  “Maybe. I hope so.”

  “I know so,” Mike said confidently.

  Carter sat silently. He felt drained. This was the first time he had slowed down in a while. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even eaten dinner without schoolwork preying on him.

  “Bro?”

  “Yes?” Carter asked drowsily.

  “I have something to ask you. But only if you're not too busy.” Mike sounded careful.

  “I might not be,” Carter said.

  “There's a football game on. Tomorrow night. Want to come along?”

  Carter whistled through his teeth. “I dunno. You know I don't watch sports. Not really.”

  Mike smiled. “I know. But this is different. It's a surprise.”

  “A surprise? In what sense?”

  Mike laughed. He had a warm, infectious laugh. Carter felt himself grin before he could stop it. He could do with one of Mike's surprises, he thought. Life was kind of boring right now.

  “In the sense of something unexpected. Added surprise, that is. The game will probably be run-of-the-mill.”

  “Oh?” Carter swallowed. Expansive and generous as he was, Mike's idea of surprise might not be the best sort of thing for Carter. The last surprise he recalled—a surprise birthday—had put him on the spot so badly that Carter had found it hard to forgive his brother, even though in the end the evening had gone reasonably well. Mike just didn't understand his more reclusive nature.

  “It's okay,” Mike chuckled. “I know you. This isn't a bad surprise.”

  Carter grinned. “I trust you. Whatever it is, I know it isn't intended to frighten the hell out of me.” Both of them chuckled.

  “So. I can expect you tomorrow at six?”

  “Okay,” Carter agreed. “Sounds good.”

  “Yeah. We can go for dinner or something, maybe.”

  “Maybe. Looking forward to seeing you.”

  “Thanks, bro,” Mike said softly. “I'm looking forward to seeing you, too.”

  Carter smiled and hung up, feeling a surprising lump in his throat. He shook his head. Stop being silly.

  Mike was his stability, his lodestone. Now that he worked all day and Carter spent all day on his studies—and all night, too—he very rarely saw him. Tomorrow would be too good to pass up; last time he saw Mike had been three months ago, at least.

  Football might not be my favorite pastime, he thought wryly, stretching and feeling a yawn that he had suppressed all day creep over him, but it's going to be good to see my brother.

  He stood, wondering why he suddenly felt so tired. He looked at the clock on the wall: nine pm.

  Hell! Carter blinked, impressed. He had been so involved in his studying that he had lost track of time completely.

  He shook his head. Mike was right. He had been studying too hard.

  He sat down heavily on the bed, feeling suddenly nostalgic. His big brother had always been there, keeping an eye on him. All his memories, from his first ride on a bike to his starting college, Mike had always been there with a hand to offer and a ready smile. There was never anything too big for Mike.

  I remember telling him about my first crush. Carter shook his head. Ashby Prestwick. He smiled about it now, though somewhere inside him the memory still hurt. Ashby was a boy about five years older than him. He had sandy hair and green eyes and the most stunning lopsided smile Carter had ever seen. He had been in the year ahead of Mike in school. When Carter told him about Ashby, Mike had smiled at him.

  I get that, he’d said kindly.

  Carter remembered now how relieved he had been when his brother had “got it”. How he had known, as a seven year old, that being attracted to boys wasn't something you could tell just anyone, he didn't know.

  But Mike never condemned me. Never laughed at me or brushed me off or said I'd change when I got older.

  Carter wasn’t sure why he had ignored that. Why Mike's gentle acknowledgment of him had never actually overcome the fear of what other people would say. Carter had always known he was not straight, but he had never come out, either. Not even, really, to himself. Ever since that first crush and his apparent lack of interest, Carter had tried to forget. Tried to pretend he wasn't interested in guys, tried to make himself interested in girls. The latter hadn't worked. He had some wonderful friends, friends he would even say that he loved—but they were like his sisters, the whole attraction thing just wasn't there. Not really. Not the way it had been
for his crush. And sometimes for others, in the years since then.

  I wish I could either forget about this, or come to accept it.

  He lived in an uncertain place in which he felt aroused by guys, but never acted on it. The older he got, the more difficult it became to stifle those feelings, to compress all longing back into himself. He channeled it into his studies with ruthless efficiency, letting them absorb all his time and energy, leaving no room for any distractedness.

  I don't know if I can keep on doing that.

  Carter sighed, reaching for his books. He read through a few paragraphs, trying to concentrate. But he had worked so hard already that day that his brain felt as if it would boil.

  His obsession with study was getting too exhausting. Too negative. His big brother was right. His brother never had difficulty accepting him as he was. The thought made Carter look forward to seeing him even more. Stretching again, rolling his shoulders, Carter headed downstairs and out the front door, planning to find something to eat.

  2

  Carter looked at himself in the mirror. It was five-thirty, almost time for him to see his brother.

  He was heading back up from the bathroom, planning to do something better with his hair, when the phone rang.

  “Carter?”

  “Mike! Hi!”

  “Hey, bro. Just checking you remembered about our plans for tonight.”

  “Mike!” Carter sounded incredulous. “Of course, I do!”

  Mike laughed softly. “Sorry, bro. I know you wouldn't just forget. But I do have a surprise planned.”

  “I know,” Carter said with mock-trepidation. “I remembered.”

  They both laughed.

  They chatted a bit longer, Carter taking clothes out of the closet and getting ready while they did so. It was a pleasure to have the whole house to himself: two of his housemates were at home, taking an extended study leave, and the grad student had gone away for the weekend. When they hung up, Carter was almost ready. He went across to the mirror, assessing himself with a raised brow.

  I guess it'll have to do. I just hope Mike's surprise doesn't involve anything fancy.

  He was dressed in casual navy jeans and a shirt in green with pinstripes, the sleeve cuffs pushed up loosely around the elbow. He had a gray jacket to go with it, in case it was cold out.

  Carter sighed. He rolled his shoulders, squinting at the way his brown hair lay, slightly wavy, against his brow. He tucked it back critically, dusted a stray hair off his shirt, and turned away, looking at his books on the table.

  I should do some studying before Mike gets here. Studying my reflection isn't actually going to get anything done. He chuckled wryly.

  He always felt a little self-conscious when going out, especially with Mike, who often moved in fairly fancy circles due to his job. Carter was, in his own mind, hopelessly unattractive. A long, tall frame, lithe but not muscled, with a sensitive face and full lips, he was sure Mike's friends would despair of him. They were mostly either athletes or ex-athletes: strong, self-confident guys with shiny white teeth and good hair and ripped bodies.

  I'll just have to ignore it.

  If he was going to enjoy the game, he would have to ignore Mike’s friends, ignore how out he felt and just focus on the sport.

  He settled down at the desk and leafed through his textbook idly, and, knowing he only had ten minutes or so before Mike appeared, pushed it away in favor of a copy of his thesis chapter.

  He was halfway through the next page, red pen in hand, frown on his brow as he corrected his own work, when he heard a knock on his door behind him.

  “Come in!”

  Mike entered. He paused in the door, giving his little brother a big grin. Broad and tall, with sandy hair and a blunt, handsome face, Mike seemed to radiate confidence and ease.

  “Carter!”

  “Mike.”

  Carter pushed aside the work, took off his glasses, and stood. He felt himself embraced in a big hug.

  “Little brother. It's been so long!”

  Carter grinned at him. He punched him in the arm, a playful gesture that went back to high school. “It's not that long...maybe three months. It's so great to see you!”

  Mike ruffled his hair and Carter pulled a face. They laughed.

  “Come on!” Mike said. “I'm about to die of hunger.”

  Carter chuckled. “Okay...that's an emergency. Run!”

  Laughing, he grabbed his coat and the two of them ran down the stairs together.

  Outside, the night was cold, a frettish wind lifting rain and making it sting. Carter winced.

  “Hell, brother man. You might've picked another day...”

  Mike smiled. “I can't, I'm afraid. Tonight is special.”

  Carter put his head on one side. They had reached the parking lot and the shelter of a tall tree.

  “Why?”

  “Surprise,” Mike said.

  Carter grimaced, feeling at once butterflies in his stomach and a tingling nervousness. “What kind of surprise?”

  “Trust me.”

  “Well,” Carter said, waiting for his brother to unlock the doors and let them get inside out of the cold, “don't mind me if I find that a bit tricky.”

  “Trusting me?” Mike asked innocently.

  Carter rolled his eyes. They walked out of the shelter and toward where Mike's new car, a flashy Infiniti that Carter knew his brother fussed about as a prized possession, was sheltered.

  “Yes,” Carter said firmly, sliding in. “Last time you said, “trust me”, sounding uncommonly like that, was the time you had this brilliant idea to ransack the kitchen by climbing onto the roof and getting in through the top window...”

  Mike let out a roar. “You remember that? I'd forgotten! Shit, that was hectic.”

  Carter chuckled. “It was. Almost getting shot at by the neighbor when he thought we were burgling the house was almost as scary as slipping off would have been.”

  Mike grinned. “And neither was as scary as what Mom said she'd do when she caught us.”

  Carter laughed. Their dad had almost gone white with fright, seeing the two boys balancing precariously on the roof, and their mother had done so too, a fact which did not stop her from threatening them with awful consequences should they ever repeat the action.

  Carter grinned nostalgically, feeling the last of his study-worries fade as his brother's strong, familiar hand turned the wheel and they sped into the falling darkness around them.

  “I'm glad we're doing this,” he said.

  Mike smiled. “So am I. Work has been preying on me too. Fine time to get away and into some better company.” He grinned.

  Carter smiled. “Not sure I'm such great company. At least not when watching football. You know I don't understand any of it. And the fans just annoy me with their shouts.”

  Mike chuckled. “Just relax and enjoy it. If you ignore them, they go away; at least, you don't see them anymore.”

  Carter nodded. He wished he had more of that special gift Mike had of ignoring things so they went away. From irate neighbors to annoying people, Mike let it all go in a way Carter wished he could.

  “I'll try.”

  “That's the spirit,” Mike nodded happily. “Almost there.”

  Carter watched the streets flash by, the lights shining into darkness. As he did, he recalled something Mike had said.

  “Having a hectic time, work-wise?” he asked quietly.

  “Mm, not too bad,” Mike said. “Some new clients. Interesting ones.”

  “Oh?” Carter was interested. As a physical therapist—a very good one—Mike saw many different sports-people. He had one or two celebrities on the books, so to speak. It was always interesting to hear about. “Anyone special?”

  “Might say so,” Mike shrugged. He was looking through the windshield, eyes narrowed as he kept behind a menacing-looking truck in high traffic.

  “Mike,” Carter asked hesitantly.

  “What?”

 
“Are you keeping secrets?”

  Mike grinned. “I've never been able to,” he confessed. “Not from you. Mr. Sharp eyes.”

  They both laughed. Carter was focused and observant in a way Mike wasn't, always noting details and inconsistencies. They sat quietly a while, both lost in thought and memory.

  “Here we are,” Mike said, driving slowly into the lot. They were just outside the stadium.

  “Oh.” Carter was surprised: the drive had been shorter than he had thought.

  “Come on, you!” Mike grinned. “The game's about to start!”

  Carter sighed, pulling himself to standing.

  “Hell, it's cold,” he said, clenching his teeth as they headed up the path.

  “It'll be warm when we're inside,” Mike proffered.

  He was right. The heat of thousands of fans packed into scant space was stifling. That was not the least of it. The smell of so many boxes of popcorn and peanuts and soda was faintly nauseating, and the cheers deafening.

  “I don't know how I could have let you persuade me into this...” Carter grumbled, taking a seat beside Mike.

  “It'll get better when the game starts,” Mike promised.

  Carter sighed, feeling slightly annoyed. He loved Mike, but the man was so easygoing, so laid-back, that sometimes it was inconsiderate.

  He is far too sure I'm going to enjoy this; he hasn't even considered how much I hate this kind of thing!

  Carter didn't want to be ungracious. It was kind of his brother to do this, especially when it was a hectic time for them both.

  “I'm sorry, bro,” he said softly. “I'm just stressed.”

  “I know.”

  Mike gripped his shoulder affectionately and Carter smiled at him.

  He really would do his best to enjoy it. He sighed and, leaning back, took the advice to try and relax.

  He almost succeeded. He was just getting involved in watching the crowd, amusing himself by trying to lip-read fans further down the stand, when they suddenly gave a great roar. The teams were jogging on.