JASPER: I think you’re underselling yourself, there.
MICAH: No. I honestly don’t. Declan is a born leader, and a natural role model. I tend to screw up a lot and make a shitload of mistakes.
JASPER: Surely that makes you a more human role model?
MICAH: Are you saying Declan Tyler isn’t human?
JASPER: No, I know from experience he is.
MICAH: I should think so after that book you wrote [redacted—Ed.].
JASPER: Moving on.
MICAH: Probably for the best.
We here at Reach Out think he’s being a bit hard on himself. It is an understatement to say how much of an impact Micah Johnson could have on the young fans of AFL, both queer and straight. We can only hope this is the beginning of a long and illustrious career.
Micah Johnson is, in his own words, “getting his shit together.” And we can’t wait to watch.
Chapter 1
MICAH JOHNSON wasn’t getting his shit together.
He was already getting used to giving the interview everybody wanted to hear, not the reality he was experiencing.
Sure, some parts of his life were good.
He had his own car, for example. Okay, he didn’t own it outright. But it was amazing, the world of credit that had opened to him even on a rookie’s salary. He often went on drives, exploring the city. Locked in his own little cocoon, with the stereo blaring, he felt protected from the world without. If his “foster” family thought it was odd that he disappeared for lengthy periods, they didn’t say that much about it. They made every effort to make him feel welcome—well, all except Sam’s younger brother Dane, but the less said about that the better—Micah could tell they were puzzled he wasn’t doing more to try and fit in and join their own activities. Now that he had a car, he didn’t even ride in with Sam to practice anymore. It was nothing against Sam—Micah just didn’t want to be the tagalong, the burden, the annoyance that Sam had to put up with.
So he just felt more alienated and alone.
And horny. Recently he had a taste of what it was like to have a boyfriend, and the intimacy that came with it. He tried to write it off as mere horniness, but he was craving more than that. He missed Kyle. Not just the sex, but the conversations, the cuddles, the light touches. The feeling that he was wanted.
So he turned to apps. He knew they weren’t giving him what he really needed, but they fulfilled him for at least a few minutes until he felt even lonelier.
He had just come from some guy’s house—he couldn’t even remember his name now. If it had even been his real name. The guy was flushed with embarrassment, and wanted the deed to be over and done with as quickly as possible.
Micah hadn’t cared. That was fine by him.
Sticky, and desperate to wipe the smell of the other guy off him, Micah stopped at the beach. It was blisteringly hot, but fully clothed in his t-shirt and shorts, he waded into the water. He stood looking at the horizon for a while, blinded by the sun. Perth was flat, the sand burnt white hot beneath the unforgiving sun, but they sure had beautiful beaches. You wouldn’t believe the difference between Trigg Beach north of Perth and St. Kilda in Melbourne, for example.
Micah strode further out into the surf, and let himself sink beneath the waves. Cleansed, he broke the surface and doggy paddled for a while.
He quickly used the outdoor shower to wash away the salt on his skin, and back at the car, he laid a towel upon the seat so it wouldn’t get too wet. He blasted the air conditioning as he drove “home,” not caring how cold it made him.
The Mitchells lived near the beach. Sam obviously made more money and had a better line of credit, because his mortgage had to be huge. If you went to the second floor and onto the various balconies, you could see the ocean. Micah was glad his room was up here, although he didn’t get that view from his bedroom. It meant he spent a lot of time in the lounge, reading or surfing the net on the balcony. Only he and Dane lived up here, and Dane made an effort to keep out of his way, so it was almost like he had his own flat. Their parents were on the first floor, and Sam and Maia had the rather luxurious “granny flat” out behind the pool. Even if you lived that close to the ocean you still needed a pool. Perth people loved their water.
Micah should never want to leave. Everything was here.
Except his family. His friends. His boyfriend.
Ex boyfriend.
As Micah rolled into the driveway, Sam was standing at the end as if he was waiting for him. His blond hair glinted in the sun, making him look like a model for Billabong surf wear. What with his girlfriend, his family, his house, and his career, Micah felt like he should have resented Sam.
But he already felt too attached—Sam was the older brother he had always wanted for himself, instead of having to be the older brother. But with that came Sam’s mother-hennish nature. And Micah felt he was in for a lecture.
“Hey, Micah,” Sam said, pleasantly enough.
Micah slammed his car door and activated the locks. “Hey.”
“Have you been at the beach?”
“Yeah. Went for a drive and a swim.”
“You should have told me. I would have come.”
Micah coloured as he thought of the real reason he had gone out, and what Sam might have thought of those activities. Micah wouldn’t be lying if he admitted that Sam was uncomfortably good-looking, and before he had gotten to know him better, Micah had been slightly perturbed by Sam’s ease around him, both in the house and the change rooms at the stadium. Not that he had thought Sam was coming on to him, just that he was trying a little too hard to be cool with the first out gay on his team.
“It’s okay. I wanted some alone time.”
He dreaded seeing a look of concern on Sam’s face. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.”
“Talk?” Micah asked, in a faux jovial tone. “We’re manly footballing men! We don’t talk!”
“Some of us do,” Sam said. “That’s one of the reasons why I was chosen to take you in.”