Page 24 of Dickathlon

My mom stopped trying to set me up with guys, and Freddie got the surgical fellowship. My father raved about him every time I saw him, so it didn't seem like Freddie got it just because we were dating. I was pretty sure he was a kick-ass surgeon. Either way, Freddie didn’t care. He was happy with the fellowship.

It’s not like we saw each other that much either, since I was at UCLA’s track most days, and he was working twelve-hour shifts at the hospital.

If we weren’t exploring a new café or bookstore, we were chilling at his place or mine. He had three roommates, two girls and a guy, and after a few visits, it was clear they were all interested in me. I wasn’t sure if Freddie said something, but eventually they had all stopped throwing themselves at me and I was grateful. It was nice to relax but still be around people, which made me sound like a hermit. But before Freddie, I kind of was.

Sometimes it was easier for him to crash at my place, in the guest room. It was closer to the hospital than his apartment. I lived alone, so I eventually ended up giving him a key due to our different schedules. An unfortunate side effect was that my mother thought we had taken the next step and moved in together.

Towards the end of January, she came by for a surprise visit and Freddie answered the door. I wasn’t there and he was completely unable to form a coherent sentence in front of her. Later that night, we went out to Pride Night at my favorite sports bar and I got to laugh at his retelling of the story. The texts from my mom, which I saw all at once after training, suddenly made more sense. I coyly sent her a smiley face emoji.

“She actually hugged you?”

“Ugh.” Freddie pretended to slam his head on the table. “Yes, she did. It was so awkward.”

“Priceless. I’m shocked they believe we’re together.”

“Should I be offended? Am I too butch to seem gay?”

I hoped he was kidding, but I wasn’t going to spoil it for him. “More like you’re not my usual type.”

“Ouch.” He pumped my arm. “So you wouldn’t sleep with me?”

“I’d be afraid I’d break you.”

He seemed to consider that for a minute, before he said, “Valid point. I do believe your musculature would be a significant threat to my corporeal integrity. To be honest, I’d be afraid of that cobra between your legs.”

Of course, that would be the moment a gaggle of twinks walked by our table. A few of their heads turned to give me the up and down after they overheard Freddie.

“Just throw it up on a billboard, dude, it’ll be less conspicuous.”

“It’s the truth!” Freddie shrugged.

“When did you even see it?”

“You know the navy blue towel?”

“Yeah?”

“You think it covers everything, but it doesn’t.”

I nodded and smiled. “Good to know.”

A comfortable silence settled between us for a few minutes as we nursed our drinks. I kept an eye on the basketball games on the TVs around the bar while Freddie played on his phone.

“You sure it didn’t do anything for you?”

He rolled his eyes at me. “Stop trying to convert me. I know you’re convinced I hardened at the mere thought of us being together, but I already told you, it wasn’t hard and you’re never gonna make it hard.”

“Wow. The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

“How do you know Hamlet?”

“What? You think I’m just some meathead jock?”

“Yup.”

“Now it’s my turn to say ouch.”

“Yeah, like I would be capable of bruising the ego of the World’s! Greatest! Athlete!” He had formed a megaphone around his mouth with his hands to really accentuate the teasing. “Can I have your autograph?” he asked, holding out his cocktail napkin and a pen.