Carson Brady was, without a doubt, my best friend. We met during our first year of college at LSU. We were both recruited to play football for the Tigers. I was a second-string quarterback, and Carson was a wide receiver. We both shared a deep love for the game, but it wasn't our passion. Hence, neither one of us went pro. Off the field, we were a dynamic duo.
Over the years, people started to call me the "Whisperer." I was the only one who could talk Carson off a ledge. My boy was a hot head, and when you looked like Carson, you could be a hot head and get away with it. Carson was a mid-western boy. He was from Iowa, and the boy was a true stereotypical midwestern jock, all cornbread fed and stocky.
He was tall, with a sturdy build and broad shoulders. His muscles were swollen from years of playing sports. Carson had that friendly, open face with a warm smile. He was also arrogant, ill-tempered, and, at times, very egotistical. There was also this other side to him that no one else saw. He was funny, protective of his friends and family, and giving.
Neither one of us had a problem with the ladies. Together we were charismatic as fuck. We got the duo nickname Dusk & Dawn. Women couldn't resist Carson, the dirty blonde jock with blue eyes, or his best bud with the perfect chocolate skin and hazel eyes. Those years of college were legendary. Things slowed down after I married Mariah. Carson swore he'd never get married. Yet, here we are, in Vegas, throwing him his bachelor party.
We partied all weekend long. I went all out for my boy. I got the Claudius Vegas Villa at Caesars Palace, and we let the good times roll. Carson was having the time of his life. He deserved it. I was proud of him. His parents had been pressuring him for years to settle down, and when Sara came along, he chose to make her the one.
When Carson and I got back to the villa, it was 3 a.m. We were wasted. The other guys had left us at the casino earlier. The villa was dark and quiet. We were stumbling around in the dark, trying not to make any noises, but for some reason, we were giggling like some high school girls.
Everyone was sharing a room except for Carson. It was his bachelor party weekend, so he had the primary room to himself. I was about to head to my room, but he pulled my hand and led me down the hall to his room. This was typical of Carson. Whenever he got wasted, he would never want to sleep alone.
The lights were out in the room, but the moonlight from outside illuminated the inside. Carson immediately stripped down to his tight boxer briefs. I was amazed that he still managed to keep his stocky, beefy, thick-as-ham body after so many years.
He had a dragon tattoo on his chest over his right pec. His quads were still thick as fuck. His skin was as smooth as a baby's ass. He quickly climbed into bed. His round, thick glutes bounced as he moved.
With a wink, he said, "Justin, come snuggle with me."
"Don't you think we're too old to be in bed together," I said, laughing.
"I'm never too old to have my best friend in bed," he said.
We were thick as thieves, and our motto was "Dusk & Dawn Against the World." So, I shook my head at him and started to climb into the bed.
"Clothes off. I don't want them scratching me," he said.
I stopped in my tracks. I wasn't sure why I listened to him. In the same way, I could talk Carson off a ledge; he could talk me onto one. If there were ever a guy who could make me get in bed with another guy, it would be Carson. I trusted him more than anyone in the world.
I slowly took my clothes off. I could feel Carson's eyes on me the entire time. It felt like he was burning a hole in my body. Over the years I had lost most of my muscle. I had become a slim-toned version of my former self. For context, you could say I appeared to be more of a twink when compared to Carson's stocky build.
Once I was down to my boxer briefs, I climbed into the bed. I lay next to the stocky stud. We had a decent amount of space between us.
"I miss how we used to do this back in college. Just lying in bed after a night of drinking and shooting the shit," Carson said as he reflected on our past deeds.
I chuckled, "Fun times. If anyone had walked in on us, they would have sworn we were gay."
"Who the fuck cares," he asked.
"I do. I love you, dude, but I wasn't going to be labeled a homo for you," I said, trying my damnedest to sound macho.
He looked at me and said, "I would for you. You're the most important person in my life."
The conversation was becoming a little strange for me. It was starting to affect my high.
"No more drinking for you, Carson."
"What's wrong with me sharing my feelings?" The way he asked made me feel bad.
"Nothing wrong with it. Just don't do it while we're in a dark room in our underwear, man."
He rolled his eyes, "Fine. Whatever bro. Thought you were my boy."
I could hear the hurt in his voice. Something deeper was going on with him. I wanted to make sure he was okay. I sat up in the bed and looked at him. He turned his head from me.
"Look at me, Carson."
He didn't look at me.
"Carson, look at me," I said softer.
He slowly turned and looked at me. His blue eyes cut right through me. He pulled me deep into his world. He saw in my eyes that I was ready for whatever he needed.
"I don't think I want to marry Sara," he said.
"Why not? I thought you loved her?" I asked him, completely confused by his confession.
"Not like-" he stopped himself.
I threw my hands in the air, "Not like what? You can't just leave me hanging."
"Not like I love you, Justin," he said.
I laughed, "Duh. I'm your best friend. I know where the bodies are buried. It's not gonna be the same, Carson."
"You don't get it," he said defeatedly.
"Then make me get it, bro," I said, feeling frustrated.
