🏀🎭Week at a Glance🎭🏀: 3/31/25 - 4/6/25

🏀Monday Morning's Menu🏀: Fire Inside by Dawn Douglas

March Book of the Month: Jared by RJ Scott & Meredith Russell

🏀⏳Throwback Thursday's Time Machine⏳🏀: Basketball at Night by Eve Morton

🏀📘🎥Friday's Film Adaptation🎥📘🏀: Inside Moves by Todd Walton

💻Blogger Review💻: Mine to Keep by Davidson King

🏀Saturday's Series Spotlight🏀: Boyfriend Rules by Baylin Crow

🏀Sunday's Sport Stats🏀: Rim Shot by Skylar M Cates

🏀Sunday's Sport Stats🏀: Rim Shot by Skylar M Cates

Summary:

Forced proximity

Friends-to-lovers

Scandal

Kyle and Micah must navigate college and their futures.

Kyle:

Basketball is my life. With hard work, my position will carry me from rural Indiana to the NBA. I have big dreams, but they don’t include coming out of the closet. I'm afraid to admit to the world that I’m attracted to guys. Basketball and my dad are everything to me, and I can’t risk losing either. And now I’m secretly lusting after my new roommate, who is nothing like me. He’s out, proud, and definitely not a virgin.

Micah:

My large family can't spare the money for my education, but that won't stop me from studying medicine—I’ll work my butt off to get where I need to go. I can deal with anything now that I’m out of the house I shared with my ex, even if it means living with a straight jock. But our tiny dorm room is shrinking, and my feelings are becoming more significant. What will Kyle do if I accidentally cross a line?

When a sports scandal rocks Kyle’s world, he and Micah fight for his reputation, and love turns life's plans upside down.

Prologue

Kyle

EVEN IN the stifling summer heat, my heart felt like ice.

I could hear my teammates loudly debating from the sidelines how many suicide drills I could do, and I tried to ignore them. I sped through the gymnasium, my lungs burning, body pumping, legs growing heavy. I might have to work on my speed, but I had endurance.

All I could think about was Keller quitting. He was leaving the team and abandoning me without a roommate in the dorm. The semester was about to start. How could he do this?

Coach Larson blew his whistle. “Sweeney, enough!”

I ran one more round before I obeyed and collapsed on the bleachers, huffing a little, sweat in my eyes. Although it was supposed to be cool in the gymnasium, the air conditioner was broken again. I rubbed my face on my jersey.

“I just lost ten bucks.” Dobbin grunted at me. He was the biggest guy on the team and, like me, one of the most talented. But Dobbin liked to stir up shit. He turned on Flagler. “It doesn’t count since Coach made him stop.”

“We had no such agreement,” Flagler said. “Pay me.”

“Nobody is betting on or paying anything. Hit the showers,” Coach Larson said.

“Sure thing, Coach,” Flagler said. He was always a bit of a suck-up.

They headed to the locker room. I returned to the dorm instead.

The best thing about the upperclassmen dorm of Wyatt Hall was it took less than ten minutes to run from the gym to my room. The athletics department had made a convincing case that our players needed to be the exception in order to get to our practice on time. So even though I was only a sophomore, Coach Larson took care of me and the others. The team practices began early, before the start of the semester, so I had the same room from last year.

Once I reached my dorm, I ducked under the doorway, which was a little low for my height. A few upperclassmen were chatting up some girls. They spoke animatedly, pausing to watch me maneuver through the entrance. If it wasn’t for basketball, being tall would make me freakish. I always had to slouch in movie theaters or on airplanes. I couldn’t say how many times people had stopped me on my first day as a freshman to comment, “Geez, you’re tall,” like I had never looked into a mirror and noticed. Ironically, in terms of basketball players, I was on the shorter side at six four. Point guards, luckily, don’t have to be giants.

The other dumb observation I got was “wow, you’re pale.” That one from people in the dorm made Keller’s day, because me being only one of two white players on the Barons was great fun for him. Ragging on me was Keller’s favorite activity outside the court, but I knew he simply loved to tease about it. We had each other’s backs.

I unlocked my room, closed the door, and began to peel off my clothes. I tossed them into the small hamper like I was shooting a three-pointer from downtown.

Swoosh.

I flung a towel around my waist, and then I called Keller. Although he’d told Coach his decision last week, Keller hadn’t had the balls to tell me. I had to hear he wasn’t returning from Coach.

Keller answered on the second ring. “Hey, man. How’s it going?”

I pictured his easy smile, and I frowned. Maybe we were very different people, but Keller had been my roommate and best friend here. His departure hurt. It especially hurt that he left so abruptly. Back in May, when we’d said goodbye for the summer, everything had been normal. It was all “see ya next year” stuff. Keller had never even hinted he might not return to Harrison University.

“So you heard?” Keller asked softly after a minute of my silence greeting him. “That I’m not returning?”

“Are you really not coming back?” I absently played with the thread on the white towel.

“I can’t.” Keller paused a beat. “Regina’s pregnant.”

Regina was his on-again, off-again girlfriend and high school sweetheart. A nice girl, who trusted Keller as they’d attended different colleges.

“Wow, that’s… wow.” I wasn’t certain whether I needed to congratulate Keller or say I was sorry.

“My parents are freaking out. But the truth is I only lasted on the team ’cause of your help, Sweeney.”

“That’s not true—”

“Yeah, it’s true. All those extra tips you gave me, all those times you woke my butt up to practice extra…. We both know I would’ve been cut last year if not for you.” He cleared his throat. “You’re a good guy, Kyle. Thanks for trying.”

I couldn’t reply, a lump the size of LeBron James in my throat.

“Send me a picture when you make the NBA, will ya? For me and my kid. Weird shit, man, I’m going to be somebody’s dad.” For all his talk, Keller sounded scared.

I forgave him for deserting me right then and there. What was my hurt now? Keller had one heck of a reason for not coming back. I struggled over saying that to him, however, and searched my brain for some words.

“Hopefully the baby takes after her and won’t have your size-thirteen feet.”

Keller laughed, and I was relieved. I often felt as if being social was like defusing bombs. I never understood where the triggers were until they blew.

“Listen, I might have a solution for who can room with you.”

“Oh? Who?”

“Micah Hutchinson. He happened to mention needing a new place. Before you object that he’s not on the team, that he’s a trainer assistant and not one of us, give him a chance. He’d be a good roomie. Better than some stranger.”

“Isn’t Micah… gay?”

“So what? Don’t give me any prejudice crap, Sweeney. That’s not like you. And you know I got a cousin Tommy who—”

I groaned. “Not again about Tommy.”

“Just saying. If you said shit about Tommy, I’d have to hurt you. Look, Micah’s cool. He might eye-fuck your ass on occasion, but that would be it. You don’t have a problem with the gay thing for real, do you?”

I swallowed hard. I had almost come out to Keller on several occasions, especially after hearing all the stories about his “gay cousin Tommy.” The trouble was Keller loved to gossip.

“Is he neat or messy? Does he snore? Does he party too much?”

“What the fuck does it matter? Micah knows who you are, and he’ll respect your space. Shit, man, all I know is he mentioned having to find a better living arrangement at the end of last season. He’s as serious about his studies as you are with basketball. You two might actually have some things in common.”

More than you know.

Even Keller didn’t know the “real” me. It was my fault, I suppose, and it made me unbelievably sad. I was too afraid. In one simple revelation, I could lose my future career. Yes, other athletes had come out, but there was a cost. It was bull to pretend otherwise. So I didn’t give in to all this need—this longing—inside me.

“Okay, give me his number, and I’ll see if I can make it happen.”

“Good. You won’t regret it, Sweeney.”

After putting Micah’s number into my contacts, I said goodbye to Keller. I couldn’t believe how fast my life had just changed.

Lying back on my bed, I turned the situation over a few times in my mind, Micah’s contact information open on my phone. I didn’t do great with sudden changes.

Micah was cool, like Keller said. He was always cheerful with all the players and the staff. Last spring he openly spoke of a boyfriend now and again. Nobody cared. It was good that Micah had a boyfriend. It made it easier. As cute as Micah was, I wouldn’t want to flirt with somebody who was already taken. Maybe Micah would set me up with some available friend?

I snorted. Yeah, and what if that available friend told everybody he fucked me just to brag or something? It would be different if the team knew I was gay. Sure, they were fine with Micah, mostly, but he wasn’t in the locker room. And while sports had changed in the last decade and become more tolerant, I had zero desire to be the gay poster boy of the NBA. I mean, I admired Jason Collins and his courage, but he was the exception. I would keep my eye on the prize and make my dad proud. I’d waited this long for a real life; I could wait some more.

Yes, my roommate situation changed, but my life would stay exactly the same. My excitement suddenly flatlined. I couldn’t be honest with Micah any more than I had been with Keller.

I grabbed my flip-flops and a bucket of toiletries and padded over to my door.

When the guys were in the locker room with me, I never looked at them in their tighty–whities, or worse, naked. I loved being on a team. I couldn’t imagine doing some solo sport. I have to have basketball in my life. Being on the team wasn’t always easy, hiding my secret wasn’t easy at all, but I wouldn’t trade who I was for anything.

It would be great to figure out a way to have it all. But it seemed unlikely. How could I even begin to trust someone with the fact that I wanted to be screwed so hard my ass would hurt for a week? I would simply have to forget that Micah was gay.

* * *

Micah

LACK OF money stopped me from moving out of the house I currently shared with my ex, Chance, and our roommates. Three weeks after our split, Chance found Austin, “the love of his life,” and Austin moved in. I braved the news with a fake smile. Chance and I were over, after all. Why should I care? But it fucking stung. I stayed, even as I felt it was bullshit. I went to my room and drank cheap vodka and listened to some angry chick music. Angry chick music understood me.

“We can remain friends, right?” Chance looked at me with a mixture of pity and conceit when I finally showed my shamed, hungover face a few days later. “Nothing has to change there.”

“Friends,” I agreed and slipped past him out of the house.

I went to the university for ideas, but so far the campus housing department remained unhelpful, and I was stuck.

Staying all summer had been foolish, but where could I go? I was already struggling financially, living the Dollar Tree diet of ramen noodles and Chef Boyardee, and the house we rented was dirt cheap. So Austin moved in, and I tried to keep out of the way, focusing on my work and upcoming semester. Classes hadn’t begun yet, but that didn’t mean there was time to relax, not for the premed students, and least of all me. Getting an early start on the material was crucial to my doing well, and I knew once the semester was officially underway, I’d be too busy to breathe.

Having multiple jobs for once was a blessing. I worked as a porter in the teaching hospital that offered HU students like me internships, and as a personal trainer assistant for the college basketball team. I loved the hospital work, and to my surprise, I even liked the job with the Barons, despite knowing jack shit about sports. I enjoyed helping the players. Last semester when I got the assistant trainer job, watching the team run through their normal routines had been eye-opening for me. Not just what constituted a practice, which was a grueling workout the players were run through—exercises that seemed to push the guys to the very limit of their physical abilities. Color me impressed. While I hadn’t exactly befriended any of the team, I did have respect for them in a whole new way.

One player in particular impressed me. Kyle Sweeney. Okay, to be honest, impressed wasn’t the right word for my reaction. A lot of the players were in top condition and attractive, but Kyle? He was in a league all his own. I couldn’t think of a single word to describe him in action other than breathtaking. The way he moved was incredible. I had expected basketball players to be lumbering and ungainly, but Kyle was light on his feet, darting this way, then that. He ran circles around the other players, and he did it gracefully. The others would laugh or joke around together—when they caught a breath—but not Kyle. He was always stretching or doing push-ups or running drills. Those muscled, tattooed arms. That buzzed blond hair, tall build, and the raw power when he moved—a shiver went through me. I enjoyed the free show, but I’d never even spoken to Kyle beyond my job. I was with Chance then. One thing I never was or would be was a cheat. Besides, it wasn’t as if Kyle Sweeney would return my admiration.

Despite enjoying both my jobs, neither was enough to not worry about money. I wish that burden could be magically lifted from my shoulders, but some are born with financial luck while others are not. My money troubles have always been a roadblock to my goals. I was the first in my family to go to college. My family was wonderful, but with seven kids, they could not offer me much help. If I needed a baked ham or somebody to fix my car, they could help. But none of them knew about student loans or applying for scholarships. When my scholarship fell through, forcing me to scrabble for ways to afford to stay in school, I was alone.

I’d hoped for a raise, but no luck there either. The hospital was all about funding. No money in their budget for raises this year, for me or anybody else. Raymond, my boss, was always reminding me that medical care was all about the well-insured and the emergency, and nothing in-between. And sadly, I saw doctors all the time lose their connection to patients. I got how it happened—long shifts and constant stress. Every day, I worked around medical professionals who discussed the cases but couldn’t recall the patients’ names.

So as I went to my shift, I knew not to count on the hospital for much. I was so exhausted, and I’d soon be on my feet all day. But sleeping in the house, in the room next to Chance and Austin, was slowly killing me. I had been functioning on a few hours a night, tops. I hadn’t had insomnia in years, but I got it when my brain couldn’t turn off and stop worrying.

I shrugged against the humid outside air, waiting for my bus to the hospital, rubbing my eyes to get the morning crud out. Despite the summer temperatures climbing, the hospital would be an air-conditioned block of ice. It usually ended up making me sick at some point. Across from the bus stop near the quad, I saw a group of students congregating around Harrison’s statue—the huge bronze figure of the twenty-third president astride a horse. Why on horseback, I had no clue. Every time I saw it, I wondered if President Benjamin Harrison ever actually rode a horse. Probably. Still, the university seems to be inordinately proud of their namesake, if this ungainly chunk of metal was any indication. The group was laughing and having fun. I’d never had that kind of time to waste just hanging out—something Chance’d had a problem with. I called it paying the bills, but he called it my “workaholic tendencies.” Well, fuck him.

After we broke it off, Chance met Austin at the same club where we’d met, back when I “knew how to have a good time.” Chance loved to tell the story. Austin had moved to Indiana that same day. His mother was divorced and living here and had convinced Austin to give it a try. He had barely unloaded his truck when he decided to hit the clubs.

“What are the odds, right?” Chance had chuckled to our other roommates. “Isn’t that so funny? I mean, we meet the exact day he moves here!”

Hilarious.

The bus finally arrived and came to a stop with a loud beep. I felt like one of the zombies from a bad horror movie, groaning as I staggered up the steps.

I pulled my scrub top on over my head as soon as I was through the door, dropping my backpack on the unoccupied seat next to me. Job number one would be starting in fifteen minutes, and all I wanted was to go home and pull the covers over me. Only my house was no longer a home. Living there was soul-sucking.

And I had nowhere else to go. I was royally screwed.

Unless I got a miracle.

Nothing could have shocked me more than getting one.

My phone buzzed with a voicemail from a missed call. As I listened to the message, Kyle Sweeney’s voice was like an answer to a fucking prayer.

“Um, hey, Micah. It’s Sweeney. From the team? Keller mentioned you needed a better roommate situation this year, and as it turns out, Keller had to leave unexpectedly this semester. So he suggested that you could move into Wyatt Hall right away and take his place. If you’re interested, call me back, and we can put in the request with the housing office.”

I listened to the message again and smiled. No more house and no more watching my ex be all happy without me. I glanced at the other passengers on the bus and wanted to shout, I’m done with this shit.

It felt good to admit it. Finally I could move the fuck out of there and away from them.

Skylar M Cates

Emotional, Roller-Coaster Romance

Skylar M. Cates loves a good, heartfelt romance, especially ones that are both steamy and emotionally satisfying. She is quite happy to drink some coffee, curl up with a good book, and not move all day. Her novels feature strong, passionate characters who care about their friends and family. Skylar loves to craft stories where people are challenged by vulnerable situations. Although lately the laundry room is the farthest place she has visited, Skylar still loves to chat with people from all around the globe. Contact her on Twitter, Facebook, or through her newsletter.

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