The locker was foggy; hot air as dense as a thundering storm-cloud. The showers sprayed against the blue tile floor, running water down Zach’s back and legs. He kept his arms crossed, more than aware that Gentry was beside him. The team was loud today, hitting each other with towels outside the showers or gregariously chatting past the awkwardness that came with exposing yourself to fifteen other equally naked guys. But inside the showers, it was quiet save for the echoes of the teammates.
Zach had noticed that whenever he came into the showers, the other boys squeaked their faucets off and promptly left. But not Gentry.
He always stayed.
Maybe he quietly reveled in that his cum had slicked these floors before, that he’d let the team faggot suck him off here more than once; over these very tiles.
Maybe it was a quiet longing for it, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he didn’t know.
But the fact remained that here he was, burdening Zach’s thoughts with quiet envy how anyone who knew could stay on these tiles without the slightest sign of guilt, shame, or amusement. How he could still stand straight and proper, with his feet sturdily planted to the ground like some gold statue?
“People aren’t dumb.” Zach murmured under his breath, wanting very much to knock that statue off its pedestal. “You drop hints. You blew me in the pool and didn’t care then what anyone thought. And now you’re throwing a fit that I stated the obvious.”
The silence that came in response was only too typical. Zach gave a disgruntled sigh; he hadn’t expected Gentry to acknowledge anything in the first place.
But just when he turned off the shower, before he reached for his white towel, Gentry quickly uttered,
“I don’t regularly fuck faggots in pools.”
Just as quickly as it had been shot, Gentry reverted back to a rocky silence, staring straight through the underclassman.
Yet Zach was not deterred. He knew he’d set something in motion, nudged that statue closer to the edge of its too-high base. He smugly turned his shower back on to drown out their conversation,
“Why did you do it at all? It’s risky and stupid.”
“Why are you asking me? I don’t know.” Gentry gave a small shrug, “Boredom? Being bored? I don’t know. I wasn’t bored before meeting you.”
“You did it because you were bored? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I don’t know.”
Gentry turned off the shower and snaked his hand in Zach’s, leaning close to him.
“Do you?”
Zach leered at him with sickened awe, then gave him a futile shove.
“I have a boyfriend.”
And despite this profound statement, his body smoldered when Gentry leaned in close to him. His heart was racing, throbbing so hard he swore the locker room could hear it. He closed his eyes, but no lips brushed against his.
“You do.” Gentry gave a slow nod.
He motioned to the bulge in Zach’s swimshorts, “Might want to call him about that.”
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