Chapter Two

Will strode past the poster on the digital board outside of the art building and cringed. He prided himself in the work he'd done for the art. The poster was eye-catching and accentuated Carsten's stage presence. If he had to admit it, he'd say it was one of his best works. As much as he liked the poster, he wished he never had to see Carsten's face again. Every time he looked at Carsten, his heart ached. He'd been treated so poorly by this man and now he was creating art for him to help his career.

He shook his head and made his way into the art building. He had meetings with students today for their mid-semester grades. The meetings never bothered him, but the inevitable crying and complaining always got on his nerves. Some students completely focused on their work. They did as asked and had no issues. Others thought they should fly through the courses without having to pay attention to deadlines or restrictions. Some simply had too much on their schedule to keep up. He hated having to give them the tough talk, but someone had to do it.

He hustled up the steps to his office and checked his bag to ensure he had his tablet with him.

"If it isn't Will Rohr in the flesh." Carsten leaned against the doorframe to Will's office. "It's been ages, hasn't it?"

He bristled and stopped in the middle of the corridor. He had to be dreaming. Or was it a nightmare? Carsten was in his life and standing before him.

"Don't you talk? You've always been so loud and funny." Carsten remained against the doorway. "Cat got your tongue?"

"No," he managed. He summoned his courage and stiffened his spine. "You're here."

"I am."

He strode up to his office door and unlocked it with his key card. "How can I help you?"

"I hear you're the artist behind my poster for the concert here on campus." Carsten followed him into the office. "It's sold out."

"I know." He hadn't tried to get tickets, but he'd been encouraged to do so. Why see someone he detested?

"Are you coming to the concert?" Carsten closed the door behind him. "Do you get special tickets because you did the art?"

"I'm not going." He positioned himself behind his desk. "I'm not into country music." Never had been. Maybe because Carsten was a star in the genre…

"I'm sorry to hear that." Carsten frowned and the crinkles around his eyes added to his attractiveness.

Shame, really. Carsten was even better looking in person than he was in his photos. Will understood why the fans rushed to him and why he was so popular. His music wasn't half bad, either.His attitude destroyed the illusion, though.

"I came by to congratulate you on the art. It's better than I thought it might be," Carsten said. "I worried it wasn't going to turn out well."

"Because I hate you?" He might as well be blunt. "Because you treated me like shit and I never forgot?"

Carsten's eyes widened, but he regained his composure within seconds. "You haven't forgotten that, have you?"

He had to be kidding? "Forgotten it? You made my life hell in high school."

"I was hard on you, yes."

"Hard?" he blurted. The gall of this man. "You told me I was slime and needed to die."

"I…" Carsten shut his mouth.

"Yeah. Forgot that, didn't you? Or how you told everyone I was fucking half the football players because we lost that playoff game. I had nothing to do with the football team and only paid attention to them because I was in the marching band. You pantsed me and punched me." He'd kept this venom under control for so many years, but seeing Carsten made the hurt rush right now. "You made my life miserable."

"It's always about you." Carsten shook his head. "You think you were so poorly treated. You brought it on yourself."

"What?" He needed Carsten to leave right now. He rounded his desk and stepped into Carsten's personal space. "Get. Out."

"Why?"

"This is my office and I have appointments this afternoon." He regained his composure. If he let Carsten bother him again, he'd never forgive himself. He was a professional. "Excuse me. I have work to do."

"You do." Carsten didn't back away. He met Will's gaze. "You're supposed to be meeting with me."

"Pardon?" He knew his schedule and Carsten wasn't on it.

"You're to be meeting with me until one." Carsten hooked his fingers in his front pockets. "To discuss the art and see an old friend."

"Old friend?" Jesus. "You've got the wrong person. I did the art for you because it was a job. I have no desire to be friends with you."

"I really hurt you that badly?"

He had no clue. "It was hard enough to be gay in a small town where being gay was frowned upon. I did my best to do my thing and not bother anyone, but you went out of your way to make fun of me. You insulted me, you tried to throw me into a locker, and turned people against me. Was it you that drew devil horns on my photo in the hallway when I did the musical? Was it you that booed me when I sang my big solo? Or were you directing people to do that for you? Couldn't dirty your hands that way?"

Carsten held up his hands, then slid them down Will's shoulders. "There's so much you don't understand."

"I have my doubts." He didn't want Carsten to touch him, but he couldn't seem to pull away. God Almighty, why did he have to be attracted to him? Even after all this time, the attraction was still there.

"Do you know where I was living during my senior year of high school?" Carsten asked.

"Wasn't my business." Even if he'd have asked, he'd have been assaulted so he didn't bother.

"I lived with Nick Clain's family because mine threw me out."

Nick Clain? He remembered the guy. A soccer player with a nice ass and sweet smile. Nick wasn't gay, either. But if Will remembered correctly, Nick and Carsten had been friends for years. "Why did they throw you out?" The last he knew, Carsten had everything going for him. He was the picture of what any Brookville kid should be—handsome, well-adjusted, and straight.

Except he wasn't straight.

"They threw me out because I admitted I was gay back then." Carsten kept his hands on Will's shoulders. "That's why I treated you so shitty. I hated that you were so able to be out and no one hated you for it. I hated that you had parents that fucking loved you. Everything went your way. I said I'd punch you into next week because that was something my father always said to me. Sick, isn't it?"

He had to be talking about someone else. Things hadn't gone his way in school. He'd had to learn to handle the backlash for his sexuality and how to be his own man. Yes, his parents had backed him all the way, but he'd never questioned that. They were his parents and had always been his biggest supporters.

"I hated that you were even on the prom court because I wanted to be the king," Carsten said. "You were good at music and art."

"But you're good at football and must be good enough at music or you wouldn't be on tour." He didn't understand what was going on or why he couldn't seem to pull away from Carsten.

"You don't get it." Carsten shook his head. "It's so plain, but even I didn't get it back then."

"Get what?" He hated when people spoke in riddles. "You were beaten, weren't you?"

"My parents didn't want a gay kid. They wanted a successful one. My father beat the ever-loving fuck out of me for being gay. You never saw the bruises because I tried so hard to hide them. When I took the time to learn my guitar and practice writing music, then got some actual success, they began to like me," Carsten said. "I'm not anything to them if I can't give them money."

"That's sick." Truly.

"They hated that I was gay. My father left me bruised and battered."

"That's sicker." And a piece of his heart broke for Carsten. He didn't know what it was like to have parents who didn't support him and couldn't imagine being in Carsten's place.

"It is and I hated myself, which made me hate you. I was so hurt and I wanted you to hurt, too. You were everything I wanted to be," Carsten said. "Everything I wanted. So confident in your own skin. I had to hide mine."

He paused. He had to have heard Carsten wrong. Everything he wanted? That made no sense. "What did you want?"

Carsten remained close to him and caressed Will's shoulders. "You."

Now he knew he'd been dreaming. Carsten hadn't wanted him. He'd treated him like shit. "Huh?"

"And I wanted to do this." Carsten didn't give him time to think. Instead, he bridged the gap between them and pressed a kiss to Will's lips.

This was really happening. Will didn't bother to close his eyes. He barely moved. The shock of being kissed was too much to process, but the kiss was too good to stop. God, he was so fucked.

He almost liked Carsten. Almost understood him.

Almost.

****

Carsten had waited so long for this moment. He'd dreamed about kissing Will back in school. Treating Will like shit to get him to like him was fucked up, though. In hindsight, he wished he'd been clearheaded about the attraction and his motivations.

Will was the one he'd never forgotten. Now he had his work cut out for him. If he was going to convince Will to give him a chance, he had to redeem himself. He slipped his arms around Will, loving the way he felt in his embrace.

Why had he waited so long to make this kiss happen?

Fear.

He swore he'd be rejected.Hell, he still could be.Will hadn't pushed him away and hadn't screamed, but he could.

He memorized the softness of Will's lips, the silkiness of his hair, and the way he whimpered when he was kissed. He wanted to run his hands over the planes of Will's chest, but he couldn't mistake the bulge in Will's jeans. Was he turned on, too?

Will broke the kiss. Wildness shimmered in his eyes. Pink infused his cheeks and he averted his gaze.

"You hated that." Carsten should've guessed. He'd been told by men and women he wasn't good at kissing. He pushed too hard and wanted too much.

"I didn't say I did." Will put space between them and sat on the edge of his desk. "I wasn't expecting you to kiss me."

"No?" What had he expected?

"I thought you might punch me." Will folded his arms and crossed his ankles. "You hated me so much."

"I did." He hadn't missed the way Will canceled himself out and put up barriers. He wished he hadn't been so terrible to Will.

"What time is your concert?" Will cleared his throat. "You don't want to be late."

"Not until nine." He had plenty of time until he had to be at the venue. "I looked at the hall this morning. It's a good but standard space. Decent acoustics and plenty of room for fans. I have no idea if I've sold out, but I doubt it. I haven't sold out in ages."

"Why not?" Will relaxed just a bit.

"No one wants to listen to a country musician who's gay and lied to them for ages about his sexuality. They want the stereotype." He shrugged. He'd gotten used to the hate mail. The fans didn't rush to his concerts like before. They wanted something else from him—to see him as the sexy attainable man. Being gay meant he might not be as attainable.

"That's ridiculous." Will didn't shift positions, but he loosened his stance just a bit. "The music doesn't change because you did."

"You tell the fans that." Was Will softening to him? Sure felt like it. Even if only a tiny shred.

"I've heard the music. I'm more of a rock man myself, but I've heard your albums and they're not bad." Will narrowed his eyes. His blush evaporated and he sighed. "They're good love songs. It's not perfect, but I've heard them and I can see the appeal. I've also seen your stage show."

"You have?" No way. "Have you come to my concerts?" He hoped so.

"YouTube."

"Oh." Just as well.

"You're good. I can see what drew the fans in and why you've got gold records." Will unfolded his arms and rested his hands on the edge of his desk. "What exactly did you want by coming here? I did the art for you. What more do you want?"

"Redemption."

"Ain't happening."

"Why not?" He hadn't thought this through very well. He'd simply assumed he'd hit it off with Will and things would be fine.

"You treated me like shit. No kiss is enough to erase that." Will cocked his head. "I still don't understand why you did it."

He had to be honest, even if it killed him. "You were more popular than me."

"You're kidding?" Will rolled his eyes. "It was because I was nice to everyone. Do you know how many people knew my name but didn't know me? They thought they were my friends because I was nice and said hi, but none of them got to know the real person. It was enough to be friends on a superficial level."

"But you were popular. The only reason I got elected to prom king was because Lucy had the vote fixed." It wasn't his best moment.

"You're fucking kidding me." Will rolled his eyes again. "That's sick."

"It is, but Lucy offered and I wanted to be on top. That's the only way I thought I could be."

"Didn't want to be second to a gay man." Will shook his head, then stood. "You're ridiculous."

"I am. I was and I am." He wasn't going to deny it. "I've told you I hated you. I did because you had everything I wanted—parents who supported you for real, friends who seemed more authentic than anyone I hung out with, you were musical from the start and could be yourself. You weren't stuck in a box the way I was."

The muscle in Will's jaw twitched, but he said nothing.

"I said it before and I'll say it again. I wanted you to hurt like I did." His voice clogged in his throat. Damn, being honest wasn't any fun. But it'd make for a good song. He'd channel his pain and frustration into a tune tonight.

"What were you going to accomplish by hurting me? You made me look like a fool. I used to want to hide and I found ways to avoid you," Will said. "You treated me like dirt."

"I wanted you to confront me and ask why I was so mean. I thought you'd ask and I'd be strong enough to tell you. When I told you, you'd feel sorry for me? A kinship? You'd see it wasn't so much that I hated you, but that I wanted to be with you?"

"Why would I see those things?"

"Because they were the truth." They are the truth.

"What?" Will shook his head again. "I didn't get the feeling you liked me at all. Quite the opposite."

"I was wrong."

"No shit."

He deserved that. He hooked his fingers in his front pockets again. "I was a mixed-up kid. I was led to believe if I treated you like crap, you'd see it as interest and you'd talk to me. If you talked to me, then we might be friends. We might have things in common. But I was wrong. It was the wrong tactic and it failed me. Then I hid who I was because it was easier to hide than to be honest. No one wanted the real me—not even my parents."

"That's not fair." Will's shoulders sagged and the anger seemed to evaporate within him. "I'm sorry it happened."

"Would you have given me the time of day? If I'd have been honest?" Carsten asked.

"No."

He should've known.

"Not because I wasn't interested, but because you'd treated me so poorly up to that point," Will said. "That wasn't the dance I wanted to do with you. If you'd have treated me like a person and confided in me, we could've been friends. I'm sorry your family was trash to you and if I'd have known, I'd have tried to help."

The words made him pause. Would've helped? "Were you attracted to me?"

"Depends on how you define attracted ." Will ducked behind his desk, putting space between him and Carsten. "Did I think you had a great body? I did. Would I have loved to have a guy like you interested in me? I would've liked to have explored the possibilities."

"But?" There had to be a but.

"Your attitude put me off."

"It should've. I was a dick."

"You were."

"Does it help to know I'm sorry? I regret everything I said and did?" he asked. "It's the truth. I wasted a lot of time and I hated that I did it because I was miserable and I see just how miserable I made you. You're right. It wasn't fair."

"No." Will rested his knuckles on his desk. "If you're looking for forgiveness, then you've got it. We all make mistakes and you've seen the error of yours. I commend you for being so honest with yourself and now me."

"Thanks." He didn't want simple forgiveness.

"You're free." Will settled on his chair. "Go out there and do the best concert you can because your heart is free."

"It's not." Far from it. He rounded Will's desk. "I want something more from you."

"Are you going to hurt me?" Will winced. "I don't fight."

"Who said I wanted to fight?" He turned Will in his chair to face him and grasped the armrests.

"What do you want, then?" Will's eyes widened.

Up close, Carsten noticed the flecks in Will's eyes, amber among the dark brown. Noticed the thickness of his lashes and the dusting of freckles on the apex of his cheeks. He even saw the slight growth of whiskers on the hollow of his cheeks. "I want one night to prove to you that the attraction between us is real and you know it. One night to show you we could have one hell of a time. One night to prove we should've gotten together back in the day because we're better as a twosome."

"You've got to be kidding me. We're in totally different worlds. You're famous and I'm a professor."

So he was considering it? Carsten could work with that. "So?"

"It won't work."

He knew better. "What if I told you it could? Would you give me a chance? One night?"

Will stared at him but said nothing. His mouth opened and closed, despite his lack of sound.

"Because that's what I want. One night to redeem myself and prove you and I should've been together all this time. We're meant to be."

Will sagged in his seat, but continued to stare at Carsten. "Fuck me."