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    Rough Draft
    Rough Draft
    Rough Draft
    Ebook96 pages1 hour

    Rough Draft

    By Leo d'Entremont

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Elliot “Ray” Douglas is an army veteran with PTSD and a closet full of secrets. Discharged and alone after an explosion on the battlefield and the implosion of his sham marriage, Ray is salvaging what’s left of his life. Attending a community college should help him adjust to civilian life and give him a sense of direction again—if Ray survives one hot teacher hell-bent on getting to know him.

    Young adjunct English professor Brian Randall enjoys challenging his students and tends to get under their skins. Brian decides to push Ray not only in Composition I, but also in facing himself and dealing with his issues. While coping with the death of a squadmate and the destruction of the only life he's known, Ray will face his greatest fear—admitting he’s gay.

    This semester is Ray’s chance at making a new life for himself, and if all goes well, Brian will make sure he’s a part of it.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDreamspinner Press
    Release dateSep 30, 2015
    ISBN9781634765947
    Rough Draft

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      Book preview

      Rough Draft - Leo d'Entremont

      Rough Draft

      By Leo d’Entremont

      Elliot Ray Douglas is an army veteran with PTSD and a closet full of secrets. Discharged and alone after an explosion on the battlefield and the implosion of his sham marriage, Ray is salvaging what’s left of his life. Attending a community college should help him adjust to civilian life and give him a sense of direction again—if Ray survives one hot teacher hell-bent on getting to know him.

      Young adjunct English professor Brian Randall enjoys challenging his students and tends to get under their skins. Brian decides to push Ray not only in Composition I, but also in facing himself and dealing with his issues. While coping with the death of a squadmate and the destruction of the only life he’s known, Ray will face his greatest fear—admitting he’s gay.

      This semester is Ray’s chance at making a new life for himself, and if all goes well, Brian will make sure he’s a part of it.

      To my wife, who helps me edit and improve my life’s story every day.

      THE CORRIDOR of Whittaker Hall writhed with bodies and backpacks. Tuesday-morning chaos, and Elliot R. Douglas, known to people he didn’t despise as Ray, was stuck in the middle of it. The thought of a salmon swimming upstream came to mind as he pushed through a cascade of students who must have been nearly a decade younger than himself.

      A girl collided with him and muttered a quick apology without looking up from her cell phone.

      Damn kids.

      Ray shrugged his book bag higher on his shoulder and dodged another knot of people before finding the stairs. He ignored the not-so-dull ache in his left knee and started climbing. Elevators were for the old and lazy, and ex-Staff Sergeant Douglas was neither of those things. At least, at the ripe old age of thirty-one, he sure as hell hoped he wasn’t. Not yet anyway.

      He was, however, completely out of his element. Convoys, helicopters, and the whistle of mortar rounds were more familiar than the crowded halls of a school. He’d taken some online classes over the past few years, but as an Army NCO, his focus had been on his next promotion, his next assignment, and getting his squad home in one piece. He figured he’d get his degree eventually.

      And eventually, he thought with a sigh, is gonna be now.

      The number 207 above the door had faded a bit, but this was the place. The classroom lights were off, but the midmorning sun stabbed through the windowpanes and glared harshly off the surfaces of the tables. The tables had been arranged in a square, with all the chairs facing inward. That meant he wouldn’t be able to hide in the back of the room and ignore everyone. At least he was the first one here and had a moment to settle himself—

      Are you going to let anyone else in?

      Ray startled with a choked shout and reached for the rifle that should be on its sling on my shoulder fuck where is my rifle? before reality kicked back in and he took in the appearance of the kid who had snuck up on him. "Are you out of your—don’t do that!"

      A pair of blue eyes in a frat-boy face blinked in surprise. I… I’m sorry? The guy took a step into the room and let the door creak shut. He was maybe a touch shorter than Ray, just under six feet, and built like one of those Abercrombie clones. Light brown hair with just a bit of product rounded out the picture of everything Ray had avoided for several years. Ray’s mouth went dry.

      The kid kept talking. You were kinda blocking the doorway. Eventually other people will want to get through, and next thing you know, it’s a traffic jam.

      Ray nodded warily. Right.

      The frat boy—he’s got to be a frat boy—frowned in confusion. You look lost. Are you sure you’re in the right place?

      It’s the room number on my schedule. Composition I, right?

      Yeah. Eyebrows furrowed on Mr. Summer Beach Tan’s forehead. And yet in less than twenty seconds, I’ve gotten the impression that you don’t want to be in here.

      The derisive snort escaped before Ray could help himself—not that he cared. I want to get my degree so I can scrape together what’s left of my life.

      That earned a raised eyebrow and a curious up-and-down glance. What’s left of your life? Come on, you look like you’re freshly minted ex-military, barely… what? Thirty years old? What are you studying?

      Ray felt his jaw tighten. Gee, aren’t you perceptive for a freshly minted high school graduate. I’m doing the information technology program.

      Practical choice.

      Ray narrowed his eyes. The last thing he needed was a patronizing college kid, especially one with a perfect jawline above the collar of a tidy button-down shirt with the top button loose, and—Stop looking, Ray. Right, he said with a drawn-out drawl. And for some reason, the folks in the academic advising office think I have to prove I can string a sentence together before I can get on with the stuff I’m really here for.

      To Ray’s irritation, Frat Boy looked amused. He nodded, then walked over to a seat. He dropped a couple of books and folders on the table and kicked his bag under the chair. You know the class is more than that, right?

      Ray stared at the kid, then sighed as he picked a spot across the square from him. It’s a gen ed at a community college. I mean, seriously, what else is it supposed to be?

      A thoughtful twist of too plump—fuck, Ray, cut it out—lips. I’ve found that most classes are as much or as little as you make of them.

      Before Ray could decide whether to ask for clarification or tell the kid the conversation was over, the door opened again and a wave of students pushed into the classroom. He glanced from the door back to Frat Boy and received a brief but warm smile before Frat Boy opened a notebook and began reading through something.

      For his sanity, Ray pushed it out of his head, then dug out his own textbook and other supplies. He would probably get to know all his classmates over the course of the semester, although he wasn’t too excited about the concept. He couldn’t imagine that he’d have much in common with any of them and wondered if the professor would be the only one in the classroom with more life experience.

      Minutes passed, and more students filed into the seats. Ray hadn’t taken a civilian class in person since high school, and he had no idea what to expect. It didn’t matter. He’d take the class, get the credit, and get on with learning some civilian career skills that could earn him a living. Thirty percent disability wasn’t going to pay the bills.

      Ray’s watch beeped. It was the top of the hour, 1100. He looked up from his textbook, wondering where the hell the professor was, when

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