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    Yellow Streak
    Yellow Streak
    Yellow Streak
    Ebook126 pages1 hour

    Yellow Streak

    By Susan Laine

    3/5

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    About this ebook

    Sequel to Yellowbelly Hero
    Heroes at Heart: Book Two

    Yancy Bell, a book geek with a bladder problem, saved the life of suicidal gay jock Curt Donovan. But when Curt returns to college after the Christmas holidays pretending he doesn’t know Yancy, warning bells go off.

    Has a frightened Curt decided the safety of the closet is preferable to coming out? A remorseful Curt comes knocking on Yancy’s door in the dead of the night. Yancy wants to help Curt find the courage to proudly be himself and pursue his dreams, but first Curt needs to come to terms with his past acts. Yancy can only hope their reunion ends in light, not darkness.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDreamspinner Press
    Release dateNov 11, 2015
    ISBN9781634766456
    Yellow Streak
    Author

    Susan Laine

    Susan Laine, an award-winning, multipublished author of LGBTQ erotic romance and a Finnish native, was raised by the best mother in the world, who told her daughter time and again that she could be whatever she wanted to be. The spark for serious writing and publishing kindled when Susan discovered the gay erotic romance genre. Her book, Monsters Under the Bed, won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Gay Paranormal Romance. Anthropology is Susan’s formal education, and she could have been happy as an eternal student. But she’s written stories since she was a kid, and her long-term goal is still to become a full-time writer. Susan enjoys hanging out with her sister, two nieces, and friends in movie theaters, libraries, bookstores, and parks. Her favorite pastimes include singing along (badly) to the latest pop songs, watching action flicks, doing the dishes, and sleeping till noon, while a few of her dislikes are sweating, hot and too-bright summer days, tobacco smoke, purposeful prejudice and hate speech. Website: www.susan-laine-author.fi Email: susan.laine@hotmail.com Blog: www.goodreads.com/author/show/5221828.Susan_Laine/blog Facebook: www.facebook.com/Susan-Laine-128697277229180 Twitter: @Laine_Susan

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    • 3/5
      Nice continuation of the first story, but the relationship between the protagonists moved like lightning. Maybe it's a YA thing.

    Book preview

    Yellow Streak - Susan Laine

    Yellow Streak

    By Susan Laine

    Sequel to Yellowbelly Hero

    Heroes at Heart: Book Two

    Yancy Bell, a book geek with a bladder problem, saved the life of suicidal gay jock Curt Donovan. But when Curt returns to college after the Christmas holidays pretending he doesn’t know Yancy, warning bells go off.

    Has a frightened Curt decided the safety of the closet is preferable to coming out? A remorseful Curt comes knocking on Yancy’s door in the dead of the night. Yancy wants to help Curt find the courage to proudly be himself and pursue his dreams, but first Curt needs to come to terms with his past acts. Yancy can only hope their reunion ends in light, not darkness.

    Chapter 1

    I’LL CALL you when I get settled at my brother’s. Talk to you soon.

    Two weeks had passed since that heartfelt promise. Spring semester had begun. But winter’s snow, freezing cold, and dark days remained.

    No sign of Curt Donovan on campus. Where was he?

    Didn’t he know I was sick with worry? I couldn’t help but be fearful of his fragile state of mind. I remained concerned about his health and well-being, and would continue to feel that way until the moment he actually stood in front of me, alive and well.

    Every day I dreaded the possible phone call: Yancy Bell? We regret to inform you that Mr. Donovan is dead. He committed suicide at his brother’s house over the holidays. The mere idea of being on the receiving end of that call from hell-on-earth made me nauseous.

    I shivered as I stayed glued to my dorm room window, hoping to see his shadow, at least, cast on the drift at the base of the building. He lived in the same dorm as me, one floor above. I’d never set foot in his room.

    I knew next to nothing about his life. Sure, I had tidbits: His father—the homophobic, violent bigot—had disowned him when Curt came out to him as gay; Curt’s older siblings, Will and Serena, along with Serena’s husband, Thomas, had chosen Curt’s side; and Curt’s best friends were Dylan and Reggie, both of them on the football team with him.

    Curt had contemplated suicide on more than one occasion—and a mere two weeks ago, three days before Christmas, Curt had tried to end his life, knife in hand, in the common bathroom on my floor. He’d been so close, a heartbeat away from doing the dastardly deed.

    I had still been on campus, waiting for my parents to come and collect me for the holidays. That night I’d had to get up to pee because of my condition, nervous bladder syndrome, and I’d stumbled upon Curt. We’d talked for a long time about the stuff plaguing his mind. We’d even kissed and made out a little. Then one phone call from his big brother, and Curt realized he wasn’t as alone as he’d thought.

    Curt called me his hero. Said I’d saved his life that night.

    Then he’d promised to call me after the holidays to set up the date night we’d talked about.

    Since then… nothing. Dead air. A charged silence stretching before me like a highway to hell, or a road to oblivion.

    I know, terribly melodramatic and lousy poetry to boot.

    But he’d promised. I felt I had cause to be anxious, justification to be afraid.

    So, with bated breath, I waited to hear from him. Anything at this point. Something to inform me he was still kicking, that he hadn’t slit his wrists as he had almost done.

    Watching the campus grounds from the window didn’t help matters or improve my glum mood. People walked by, hurrying here and there, some carrying stacks of book, others gripping their triple-size Styrofoam coffee cups. Everyone looked so busy, like they belonged in college and were readying themselves for classes and exams, their futures.

    But me? My mind’s eye gazed into the past, into that single night we’d spent together.

    A COMMOTION in the hallway outside caught my attention. Some classes had begun, but most started tomorrow. So today was the last opportunity for roughhousing before shifting back into gear. Laughter, stomping, partially raised voices, catcalls, clinking beer bottles. Campus life noises—nothing to be alarmed about.

    But a familiar voice sounded. The recognition went off in my head like a bomb.

    I ran to the door and yanked it open just as a group of five guys, all wearing football jerseys, stumbled past my door, guffaws and slight shoves showing their friendship.

    All I saw, however, was a familiar man. Tall and muscular, an athlete’s strong body on display; spiky black hair, cut short on the sides but longer on top; square jaw with a dusting of stubble and a high brow, now covered by strands fallen from his disheveled hair; and a pair of pale green eyes, twinkling with mirth as he chuckled with his friends.

    Hey! I only realized I’d spoken out loud when all five guys stopped and faced me, most of them confused as to who I was and why I was talking to them.

    But one of them went white and rigid, a guilty look rising to his face.

    Curt Donovan.

    I blinked, wishing in the back of my head I hadn’t seen what I’d seen. I looked down and muttered, Sorry. Thought you were someone else. I backed inside my room and closed the door with a snick instead of a slam, though that intentional act wasn’t alien to me.

    Curt Donovan was alien to me.

    Had any of it been true? The spark between us, the camaraderie, the building trust, the sensual bond, the shared experience? Had it all been a lie?

    He’d come back to campus without telling me. He hadn’t called or e-mailed once during his holiday with his brother and sister. He was having fun with his teammates. And me? I’d gone back to being the invisible boy.

    I stood in place, my hand on the knob. Perhaps I still clung to the faint hope that I’d hear him knock and bid him to enter, and he’d explain why he was behaving like nothing had happened, as if I were a stranger. I held my breath, but nothing happened.

    After a while I gave up. The ruckus outside my door faded till there was only silence. They were gone. Curt was gone.

    Sighing, I forced myself to accept that Curt was lost to me. At least he was still alive and seemingly well, I thought. But convincing my heart to acknowledge that Curt might not be the man I thought he was? That was another matter.

    I SPENT the rest of the day preparing for my upcoming classes. Lots of them required a certain amount of advance reading and memorizing, so I stuck my nose in my books and notes and forgot the outside world existed.

    That got me through a couple of

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