Sweet Tea and Sympathy (Bluegrass Boys Book 2) Read online

  Sweet Tea and Sympathy

  Shane K. Morton

  Contents

  Sweet Tea and Sympathy

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Bluegrass Boys #1

  1

  2

  Read More By Shane Morton

  About Shane K Morton

  Sweet Tea and Sympathy

  Bluegrass Boys #2

  Shane K Morton

  Copyright © 2020 by Shane K Morton

  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 brief quotations in a book review.

  Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover art © 2020 by Winterheart Design, winterheart.com

  One

  Matt

  High school was a shit show, and the summer before college wasn’t much better. With my thick glasses and decent IQ, I was not the most popular of students at Hardin High. I moved to Kentucky when I was nine from Georgia because my dad took a new job as a manager for a toy factory. Kentucky has been hell since the moment I set foot in the bluegrass state.

  Sports or farming were not my thing, and that was all the other boys talked about in elementary school, middle school, and yep, you guessed, high school too. If it wasn’t about basketball or some other fucking sport, they could care less. I tried to fit in with them. Honestly, I did. I am just… not very coordinated. Athletics and I were not sympatico. I couldn’t catch a ball, throw a ball through a hoop, or even play dodgeball without getting a bloody nose. I sucked.

  The kids called me a sissy, and I just pretended not to hear their taunts and bullying remarks.

  I pretended to not hear them in elementary school, middle school, and yes… you guessed it, high school.

  It’s not like I could say much…

  I was gay.

  I didn’t like to share that fact around, or anything, cause my life already sucked. I kept that truth to myself and didn’t confide that information to my best friend, Debbie, until our senior year. She wasn’t shocked, and all she did was hug me and tell me it didn’t matter to her. My parents and little sister, Donna, knew, of course. Debbie’s family were like mine, Democrats in a very Conservative state. That meant you kept to yourselves most of the time, because how can you be friends with people who are at complete odds when it comes to moral arguments? There is no ambiguity in human rights and dignity. I had stopped even trying to have intelligent conversations with the people from my hometown. It only made me insane.

  There was one thing I enjoyed about high school, though. I was on the debate and forensics team, and I was a state champion in persuasive speaking and debate. Even though that championship earned me no favor at school, that championship got me a full ride to Moray University to be a part of their forensics and debate team. They competed nationally and were one of the top schools in the state. I wanted to go to Northwestern in Chicago because they were the best. But we couldn’t afford the out of state tuition, so Moray is where I finally landed.

  It was two hours far enough from the place I grew up, and even though quite a few of my high school classmates would be attending here, Moray was large enough that I would probably only rarely see them. It wasn’t like I would be joining a frat or anything. That was not for me. I planned on excelling in college so I could have my pick of grad schools whenever that time came.

  I was also hoping to finally kiss a boy.

  Yeah, Hardin was not chock full of boys who wanted to even be my friend, much less my boyfriend. I didn’t even go to Senior Prom, as it took place during our National Forensics Tournament. I didn’t care that much about missing it. It just meant I wouldn’t have to listen to a bunch of asshole jocks and rednecks making fun of me because I could actually dance something that wasn’t a two-step.

  I was going to blossom into the powerful young gay man I had always dreamed about at Moray. They had an LGBT student group and everything. I could finally be proud of who I was, instead of hiding in the closet.

  I loved to turn on club music and let myself go. I would dance around my bedroom until I was sweaty and out of breath. The LGBT Student Alliance held dances twice a semester on campus, and my freshman orientation counselor said they were fucking awesome, and I couldn’t wait to finally be around people who loved like me. It was going to be an experience I would never forget. I hope I had many of those kinds of memories here at Moray.

  I had driven myself to college. The parents wanted to come so badly and help me move in that it made me nervous. I wanted this to be something for me and me alone, and that meant I had to ditch them in Hardin. I hope I didn’t hurt their feelings, but they said they understood.

  I parked my car in front of my new home, Hert Hall. It was the largest dorm on campus that made a giant X right in the middle of all the other residential colleges. I couldn’t believe how lucky I got as a freshman. I had a private room, and that meant I didn’t have to share, at least for the first semester.

  A couple of the older dorms were getting renovated, and we were told space on campus was at a premium for the year, and we should all expect roommates. But according to the letter I got in the mail, I still had a single, and that was brilliant. Moray is still Kentucky, and it has, of course, an extensive agricultural studies program, so that means a lot of farmers, which means a lot of rednecks. I really didn’t want a yee-haw type of roommate if I could help it. But I think I would choose a redneck over a jock. Those asses made my teen life hellish in high school, and I didn’t want to go down that road again.

  They were anathema to me.

  I grabbed my two large duffle bags and headed into the lobby. There was already a line, and I got in it, setting my bags down on the floor as I waited. A person, whom I knew to call an RA, or resident advisor, walked down the line and checked people in with his clipboard. I waited for a few minutes before he got to me.

  “Name?” he asked quickly, barely glancing up at me from his clipboard.

  “Uh… Matt Winfeld. I’m a freshman, if that matters,” I said politely.

  He looked up at me and tightened his mouth. “Don’t care, doesn’t matter, but… Welcome to college, I guess. There’s a parade at five in your honor.”

  I snorted lightly. “Really clever…”

  “Here you are, Winfeld, Matt…Room 377, East Wing. The door is unlocked. On each bed, there’s a check-off sheet and a pen. Look at the room, check the boxes and bring both the pen and the paper, back to that desk over yonder,” he pointed against the far wall, “and we’ll give you your key. Good luck, fresh-meat. Welcome to Hert Hall.”

  He moved past me and went to the person standing behind me and started his spiel all over again.

  Room 377… My room. The place
where I would begin my new start.

  “Hey, the guy with the duffel bags!” I heard someone in front of me yell. I glanced, and an Instagram hottie stood bracing the door to the elevator open and nodded at me. “Yeah, you. You can squeeze into the elevator if you want,” the dark-haired, broad-shouldered boy said as he held the elevator. There were still a few people in front of me. I didn’t know what to do, so I just stood there with my mouth agape, trying to decide.

  “Dude… They have rolling carts. They’re not fitting in here.” He smiled, and his straight white teeth gleamed out at me. His square jaw, so strong on a face that was more than handsome… He was stunning. My young teenage heart beat rapidly, and I glanced around to see if anyone else might object. “Come on! I’m not holding this fuckin’ elevator forever!” he hollered.

  “Go on. It’s cool. He’s right. Grab it while you can,” the heavy guy in front of me said quickly.

  I stepped out of the line and picked up the bags and walked quickly towards the elevator.

  “I’m glad to see you can make a decision. Freshman, huh?” my dream guy asked as he let me into the elevator and joined me inside, allowing the doors to slide shut. “What floor?”

  “Uh… three, please,” I answered, trying to not stare at him. His bare shoulders were tanned, and his arms had the kind of muscles of someone who works out a lot. Probably a jock. But he was so pretty to look at. He had cut the arms off of his t-shirt, and I could see his brown nipple and well-defined torso whenever he moved his arms.

  “So, polite. I guess your momma raised you right,” he laughed. It was deep like his voice, and I wished I could hear it again. “That’s my floor, too. So, a freshman?” I nodded. “Cool. Welcome to college, bro. Where you from?”

  “Uh… Hardin,” I tried to sound as butch as I could. I failed. “You?”

  “Me? I am straight from Bardstown.’ He grinned at me widely.

  Straight was the operative word, I was sure.

  “Damn, these elevators are so fuckin’ slow. They broke down about a dozen times last year. My old roommate got trapped in one for two hours,” he moaned as the elevator came to a jarring stop. We sat there a moment before the doors opened. I was starting to feel my lungs constricting. I have a giant phobia of closed spaces and being in an elevator while its moving was hard enough for me. Being trapped in one might actually cause me to go into cardiac arrest.

  “Well, see you around, man. Hope college is everything you wanted it to be and more,” he shrugged as he pulled his cart off the small elevator and turned right.

  “Thanks, have a good day,” I grimaced as the words slipped out of my mouth. He looked back at me and chuckled under his breath.

  Fuck.

  I was a total loser.

  No one and I mean no one would ever want to go on a date with me. I needed to find a gay fairy godfather to turn me into someone besides myself.

  I looked at the sign on the wall and saw that my room was to the right too. I followed behind him at a safe distance. I couldn’t help but notice his ass, though. Damn… This was my wet dream come to life, and I was sure I was going to bump into him quite often if we lived in the same wing on the third floor together. Maybe next time I could find out his name.

  Hunky boy stopped and opened the door to his room and pulled his cart inside. I almost walked past the door when I noticed the number on the door.

  I dropped my bags in total shock.

  He was in my room.

  I had a fucking single.

  There was no way I could live with a boy this hot.

  It wasn’t possible.

  My head was going to fucking explode if I ever saw him without his shirt on.

  In his underwear.

  Fucking naked.

  I had a semi…

  It was an inappropriate, nervous semi, but a semi nonetheless.

  He turned and saw me standing in the doorway and grinned broadly at me. It was dazzling and painful all at the same time.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” he guffawed and fell backward on one of the beds. “Holy shit. I guess that elevator ride was destiny, man. What’s your name?”

  I walked into the room and stuck my foot in my mouth. “I had a single.”

  “So did I. I was told there are no singles anymore. Construction.” He sat up and cocked his head at me. “Okay, so we are gonna do this the hard way, huh? This is my bed, by the way.”

  He stood up and walked forward until he was a couple inches in front of me. I could feel his breath. He pointed his finger at his chest. “Me… Rusty.” He took his finger and pressed it hard against my chest. “You?” he said very slowly, his accent drawling it out and making it almost a diphthong.

  He left his finger there as he stared at me, waiting for me to answer.

  “Matt. I’m Matt Winfeld.” Looking into his eyes was like staring into the sun.

  Let’s be honest, the only guys I was even distantly friendly with were boys who were bigger nerds than me. Standing in front of Rusty was melting my young mind. Impure thoughts dashed themselves through my head and ended up in my libido.

  “Cool. Matt, it looks like we’re gonna be roommates. You like baseball? I play shortstop for the team,” he said nonchalantly, and my stomach lurched.

  A jock.

  This was going to be hell!

  Two

  Rusty

  My new roommate is a freshman and a total geek. Which is cool… I mean, I don’t really care one way or the other, and I could always use a little help with my studies. If he’s my roomie, he’ll have to help me, right? I’m not dumb or anything, but with all the practice I have in the spring, classes become quite tricky.

  I’m excited as shit about starting my sophomore year. I had a roommate named Red last year, and he was the coolest bastard I ever met. Sooo cool, he failed out his freshman year. I knew pledging a fraternity was going to be a bad idea for him. He partied twenty-four/seven and went to classes about once a week, if that. I hated to hear he wasn’t coming back, but if he had, I’m not sure that I wouldn’t have followed him down the party path. It was close enough last year.

  The Dean of Athletics came down hard on everyone last year because of a lawsuit, so all athletes had to keep passing grades, and I have lived in fear of every one of my fucking gen-ed classes. I had a hard time with English last year, which is fucking ridiculous. It’s the only fucking language I know, but the rules are hard to understand. The baseball team is being closely looked at. It was one of our players that brought the lawsuit. Coach Carlson has never been the same, apparently. I came in as a freshman the next year, and he was a total hardass.

  I’ve only ever excelled in one thing in my life, and that is the beautiful game of baseball. I can hit a slider or a fastball to kingdom come. I run around those bases like the devil is on my heels, and there’s not a ball hit that I can’t get my glove around. Baseball is my life.

  And music. I fucking love music. Red and I did not agree on anything musically. He liked to listen to Hank Williams, and I preferred Modest Mouse. Dance music is my passion, and when I graduate, I want to be a DJ. I have imagined myself traveling around the world, watching people gyrate to the slick beats I lay down at major events and parties. But no one knows. Hell, not even my best friends on the team know about my ability to mix a badass beat for people to dance to. I wish I could tell them, but they wouldn’t understand. The only thing they get is infield and outfield.

  And pussy.

  They all get pussy, except for Stringer. He could care less about girls. There was a rumor going around that he was gay, but no one knew for sure. I didn’t really care. To each his own, man.

  Maybe Stringer ain’t gay.

  Maybe he is.

  I couldn’t really give a shit.

  That’s one of the things I love the most about being at Moray State University. I come from a super conservative small town, and my parents are about as Baptist as you can get. You breathe wrong in my house, and you’re going to
hell for it. My father is a deacon, and he’s a good man, but he’s wrong about so many things. The church is wrong, too.

  I really don’t think God cares if you suck a dick any more than if a girl sucks yours. A hole is a hole, and love is love. I felt this way back home too, but how the hell can you voice your opinion when even that thought might make your family’s heads explode?

  Moray is the opposite of my small town.

  I tell everyone I’m from Bardstown, but believe me, that would have been a considerable step up. I’m about twenty minutes from Bardstown, and that felt like an eternity away from anything remotely called civilization. My town has six churches, and small-town square that sits around the courthouse. The only four stoplights in town are on the corner of that same small square. We have two fast-food restaurants and a community that was crazy for any sport the high school played.

  It was that frenzy over the baseball team that helped push us to success. We weren’t state champs or anything like that, but we were in the competition every year, and a scout from Moray saw me at an away game. I was offered a full ride to Moray a week later.

  Moray is a small blue dot in a sea of red. Here in this college town, people don’t live in fear of poeple who are different. We have a ton of diversity in both the city and college. It’s a small liberal stronghold, and my mind has expanded since I stepped into it.