6. Liam

Hiking in Colorado is way different than Arizona.

I'm used to air that's almost too hot to breathe and landscapes that are more red than green, but these trails are rocky instead of dusty. My lungs burn due to the altitude, not the environment, and for the first time in… well, ever, I"m hiking alone.

Back in Arizona, before everything went to shit and my mom became a shell of herself, we'd go hiking together at least a few times a month. She loved it–my dad, not so much–so it became our thing, and after my sister was born, Mom would strap her to a backpack to bring her along too.

We'd try to pick a new trail at least half the time we went out, but we had our favorites, and no matter how many times we'd walk them they never got old. I thought they never would…

I scale a few rocks on a moderately steep uphill section, using the trunk of a tree for balance. That's another thing I'm not used to, giant ass trees. More specifically, theshade they provide. It makes the climb infinitely more comfortable.

There's something about being on the trail that makes life's bullshit fade away. I guess that means I should've kept hiking even when my mom was no longer capable of going, but like pretty much everything I enjoyed before, I stopped doing it. At first, that was because it seemed wrong to do something fun when my family was slowly breaking apart. Then, when it became clear my mom was never going to be herself again I sort of boycotted the things we used to do together.

I'm not sure if that was to preserve the good memories or to protest things that would remind me of them. Either way, I haven't set foot on a trail in years, and I'm only doing it now since I'm trying to put the past behind me.

That's easier said than done.

I huff out a few ragged breaths as I navigate over a fallen log, the irony of coming upon an obstacle on the trail an eerie reminder that I'm facing one in life right now—starting over.

As Cruz so helpfully pointed out at dinner the other day, I'm not great with people who aren't him. Yeah, part of that is due to the fact we're roommates, but part of it is just him being such a sunny, happy boy scout who never thinks the glass is half-empty. He doesn't have some superpower to make me drop my guard entirely, but the more time I spend with him the more I think his good boy persona is who he is, not just a face he wears.

And what a face it is.

He's got the sharp angles of a man covered in the smooth skin of a runway model, if those guys had some bulk instead of lean, sinewy muscle. And those damn cerulean eyes… When they're focused on me it's hard to keep my train of thought.

It's funny he thinks I'm personable with him. Half the time, I wonder if I'm babbling instead of forming words.

No, I don't have a crush on the guy, I just really appreciate the way he looks, and the fantasies those looks inspire. The fact that he's like a happy puppy makes me comfortable with him, too, as long as we aren't talking about my family or my hometown. After all, you can't get beyond the past if you don't leave it behind.

That's why I'm on this trail. I'm reclaiming hiking on my own terms. Or at least I'm trying to, since hiking solo means I only have my own thoughts to keep me company. Fortunately, it's hard to be pissy when you're outside. Even for me.

It takes a little over an hour to reach the top of the trail, revealing a three-sixty view with taller mountains to the west and campus to the right. At some point I'll go farther into the forest, but for now just the sight of those snow-capped peaks stretching into the sky as far as the eye can see is enough.

There's something calming about them, the way they stand so sturdy and imposing through wind and rain and snow. They've been battered by the elements, and despite looking smooth and majestic from a distance, they're actually rough and ragged up close. Somehow that only adds to their beauty.

I know it sounds corny as hell, but knowing they can take a beating and still stand proud makes me feel like I can do the same thing. That I can carry the scars of my past without letting them define me, and get back to a place where I actually enjoy life.

I'm not sure I'll ever reach the golden retriever level of happiness my roommate exists in, but peopling better than I do now seems like an achievable goal, especially since Cruz and Aiden are the only two people I've talked to for any length of time, and I'm not even sure Aiden counts since we spent more time screwing than talking.

We've hooked up three times now, and while it's definitely nice to not have to hide the fact I'm hooking up with a guy, I'm also conflicted about it.

It's physically satisfying, sure–and Aiden is someone I do actually enjoy–but it's not like I have this burning desire to see him or talk to him all the time. When I do see him, he constantly hints that I should join his frat. I don't know if he's trying to recruit everyone or just me, but it makes me feel like we want different things, and I don't want to be the guy leading someone on.

Damn, I knew hiking alone with just my thoughts would make for interesting company, but this is like therapy.

Figuring I've done enough self-reflecting for one day, I make my way down the trail and back to campus, which is oddly quiet for a Saturday. People must either be at the game or watching it on TV, making this the perfect time to do laundry.

As expected, most machines are open, but once I'm done with that chore, I realize I've got nothing else to do. No homework, no projects to get ahead on, nothing. So, in the spirit of being a good roommate, I turn on the game.

It's the start of the third quarter, and Colorado is up by seven. We have the ball, and the image on the screen is one of a circle of guys in a huddle. Not gonna lie, all those butts in tight pants are an intriguing sight for a guy who likes butts, especially since I can admire them without being creepy.

The guys break the huddle right as the camera is passing by one particularly round ass, and as the shot pulls back to take in the field I catch sight of the name on the back of the jersey. Chambers.

Oh. My. God. That's my roommate.

I knew the guy had a killer body, but in a football uniform he's…there aren't words. Sturdy thighs, a trim waist, and biceps that are positively bulging from the obvious workload he's incurring… It's been hard enough to avert my eyes here in the room, where he's relaxed and casual, but seeing his body at work… Fuck, I live with a god. It"s the only explanation.

Colorado snaps the ball, and after a few seconds the quarterback throws a pass downfield, right into Cruz's hands. It's such a fast, direct shot it almost seems like there has to be a magnet–or tractor beam–that pulls the ball right into his grip. No sooner does he have it, he turns and sprints downfield, hurdling over a guy who tries to tackle him. He gains another fifteen yards before he's brought down by an opposing player who literally has to hop on his back to stop his progress.

My jaw is hanging open by the time the play is finished. This is dangerous… This is how lusty obsessions come alive and I"d argue that I already have an unhealthy infatuation with Cruz's physique.

I should turn the TV off, or at least change the channel.

I do neither.

By the time my laundry is done–I might've forgot to move it to the dryer for almost an hour–and it's getting close to dinner, I'm just about to order in so I don't have to go to the dining hall by myself when Cruz, Jagger, and Cameron burst into the room.

"That play was epic. It really set the tone for the second half." Jagger gives Cruz a shove that I think is supposed to be playful, only Cruz is so solid he doesn't budge and Jagger ends up falling back against Cameron, who steadies him with an eye roll.

"One of these days I won't be here to catch you," Cameron says.

"One of these days I'll knock him off balance," Jagger retorts.

"Unlikely," Cameron mutters, though he's got the hint of an amused smile on his face as he says it.

The two of them give me a little up-nod when Cruz says hello, but Jagger keeps going. "Seriously, I bet that makes the highlight reels. Top ten plays of the week."

"It wasn't that big a deal." Cruz dips his head as he puts his bag in the closet and strips off his shirt, standing there half-naked while he looks for another.

"It was the start of a three-touchdown run. It absolutely was a big deal," Jagger insists.

"They're talking about this flying leap Cruz made during the game," Cameron tells me.

"The one where you jumped over that other player?" I ask, and three large jocks go eerily still as they look at me.

"You saw that?" Cruz pauses with a fresh shirt in his hand, a bashful grin teasing the corner of his lip.

"I thought you said he doesn't like football?" Cameron faces Cruz with a puzzled look.

"He doesn't," Cruz says. Turning to me, his expression earnest, he asks, "Did you really watch the game? I thought you were going on a hike."

Damn he really needs to put that shirt on.

"I did hike. When I got back there was nothing to do and nothing else on, so…" I lift my shoulder to finish the sentence.

"You seriously don't like football?" Jagger's mortified gaze morphs to agitation as he whirls on Cruz. "I thought you were fucking with us when you said that."

"Why would I make that up?" Cruz asks as he, mercifully, covers his drool-worthy chest.

"To fuck with us." Jagger looks at him like he's dense before looking to Cameron for backup. "Did you know he was serious?"

"Why wouldn't he be?" Cameron gives a listless shrug.

Jagger looks between the two of them like he can't believe they'd do him so dirty, even though no one did him dirty at all. On a face as gorgeous as his, it's broodingly sexy.

"No. Nope. Not okay." Jagger shakes his head at me. "I can't in good conscience let you continue on this misguided path. We need to make you a fan."

"We don't need to make him anything," Cruz insists.

"It's teammate code." Jagger looks at Cruz while pointing to me. "Letting you live with a non-fan is blasphemy. We have to fix it."

Cameron winces before turning an apologetic eye my way. "Good luck man. He pulled this shit on me as a kid and I've been playing ever since."

"You say that like you don't love every minute of it," Jagger huffs. "And it's not like this'll be an impossible task. He's got a Spiderverse poster over his bed so clearly he's got good taste. It'll be easy. We'll just watch some games so I can point out the highlights."

"You'd have better luck pointing out how tight our uniforms are." Cruz winks at me, and though he's got a proud grin on his face like we just shared some inside joke, all I can do is blink in return as I feel the blood drain from my face.

He just outed me.

To his teammates.

Technically, I didn't say he couldn't, but I didn't think he would given his own situation. What the hell?

"They really do make our asses look good, don't they?" Cameron says as though that's a thought he's had more than once, and something about his candid tone snaps me out of my stupor, enough that I'm able to swallow the bile in my throat.

Jagger shrugs. "If sexy asses are our entry point I can work with that."

Though I'm still reeling from the fact Cruz outed me, I've got enough awareness to know now isn't the time to get into it. "Fine. You teach me about football and I'll teach you about lacrosse," I tell Jagger.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Jagger holds up a hand. "Where is this coming from?"

"You want me to love your sport, I want you to love mine. Seems fair."

Jagger darts a glance at Cameron before looking to Cruz. "He's your roommate, you should be the one making this deal."

"Okay," Cruz says easily. "I'm down to learn more."

"Saved by your roommate." Cameron chuckles. "Let's go, I'm starving."

"Want to come eat?" Cruz asks me.

"I was going to order in."

"Ooh, that's a better idea. I don't feel like going anywhere." He collapses onto the beanbag chair at the foot of his bed, resting his head against the mattress as he lets his eyes fall shut.

Cameron and Jagger mumble, "later," and shuffle out the door, and with Cruz dozing I bury my head in my phone to study the menu from a local sandwich shop. Once I've picked my dinner I pass my phone to Cruz so he can choose his, and while he's scrolling through the options, not looking at me, I find the courage to confront him.

"Don't you think you should've asked me before telling your friends I like men?"

He sucks in a startled breath as his eyes find mine, the blue taking on an almost translucent quality against his suddenly pale skin. "I thought you said I wouldn't be outing you if I pointed out hot guys?"

"True, but that doesn't mean you should announce it to everyone. What if they had a problem with it?"

A tiny line forms on Cruz's brow, like he's having trouble making sense of my point. "They don't have a problem with it."

"Yeah, but did you know that ahead of time, or was it just a lucky guess?"

"I didn't think about it." His shoulders lift to his ears. "I mean, I knew they'd be cool, but I also figure if anyone isn't that's their problem. You shouldn't have to hide who you are."

"Isn't that what you're doing?"

Cruz's brow furrows as he chews on his lip. I hate that even perplexed looks sexy on him. "I guess you could make that case, although I think if I knew how to explain myself I would."

"You have an explanation. ACE."

"Yeah, maybe. But can I be ACE if I'm not attracted to people but I can get aroused? Maybe I'm pan. Or demi. And I can only get excited by a very specific person. I could even be aromantic. I could see myself falling into that category since I've never had feelings for anyone, which is fine, but it kind of scares me since I think it means I'd be alone forever and I don't want to be, and–"

Shit, that went downhill fast.

"Hey, okay." I jump off my bed and cross the room, putting my hand on his arm to get him out of his head. "It's more complicated than I was making it out to be. I'm sorry. I get the difference between hiding and not having answers to the questions they"ll ask."

I can feel Cruz's pulse firing away under my hand, but it seems to slow as he takes a few deep breaths. "Whatever I am doesn't bug me as long as I don't give it too much thought." His eyes dart to mine before focusing on a random spot on the floor. "But any time I've tried to really figure it out, to label it, it gets overwhelming."

Great, now I'm not just a grouch but an asshole too. "I'm sorry I pushed you to define it." I give his arm a soft squeeze, and he brings his gaze to meet mine.

"I'm sorry I outed you." Some of the color comes back to his face as his heartbeat returns to normal. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot. I actually kind of envy that you're so sure of who you are."

"Being gay isn't exactly a picnic." I snort. "I've had my fair share of assholes to deal with."

He chuckles at my lame dad joke. "Yeah, but it's still easier to be comfortable with who you are when you know who you are."

I never thought of it that way, but it makes a lot of sense. I guess that means I have something to be grateful for when it comes to my sexuality. "That's probably true," I agree. "Do we need another truce?"

That earns an unexpected laugh. "I don't think we hit that level of pissing each other off, did we?"

"Just checking. Were you serious about learning lacrosse?" I figure it's time for a subject change.

"Hell yeah." Cruz grins like the giant puppy he is.

"Pick your dinner." I let the hand resting on his arm fall away as I get up to grab my sticks. "I can show you how to toss the ball while we wait for it to get here."

"Deal." He makes his order and follows me outside.