Matt Phillips Prologue
I returned to my native Delaware for some rest, relaxation and get-my-head-back-together time. It was good to be back in the old stomping grounds not far from where I grew up while hanging with my parents at their beach house. After playing Navy corpsman John Bradley in Clint Eastwood's Flags of Our Fathers which earned high praise from film critic Richard Roeper, I wanted to do something similar but just couldn't get past a basic storyline set in WWII. Mom and Dad's place was oceanfront in Dewey Beach. I rose every morning to come out on the upper level deck facing the ocean-- feeling the salt air breeze on my face as I watched the waves crash on the beach before starting my run along the shoreline. I already dropped 15 pounds; not that I was fat, but definitely wanted to bulk up for my Bobby Lee Swagger role in The Shooter.
I was happy my abs were coming back nicely-- not quite as ripped as my soccer days at Mayo Academy, but close. Back at the house it was a solid 60 minutes of weights, push-ups, dips and pull-ups. The muscles screamed the first few days, but now they were popping as I checked myself out in the mirror.
Old Mrs. Crenshaw; my drama teacher and self-appointed alumni coordinator at the Mayo Academy already tracked me down through my mom within hours of me hitting the east coast. Her list of contacts rivaled any three letter government agency and the fact she was still alive was even more impressive considering how old she was when I was a student. She cajoled me with a few generic lines into attending Spring Alumni Weekend; something to the effect of "everyone will be so excited to see you again!"
To be honest, she didn't have to try too hard, I wanted an excuse to go and hopefully, maybe reconnect with him. He of course was Grady McBride.
His name rolled off my tongue as it always did every time I thought of him, which was frequently over the past 12 years. I met Grady on his very first day at Mayo when he showed up as a wide-eyed freshman. As a
junior, already back on campus for pre-season soccer camp, I was tapped to help freshmen move into their dorm rooms.
I took the next car in the queue in front of Arundel Hall, the school's dormitory building but wasn't prepared for the stunning young athlete that bounced out of the front seat and introduced himself -- "Grady, Grady McBride" thrusting out his right hand to shake. Me, the budding actor and varsity athlete, was barely able to stammer out, "Hi, uh welcome to Mayo. I'm Matt Phillips"
Grady's dad shoved a box in my arms though which gave me a minute to recover. I chatted them up on Mayo while we unloaded and got Grady set-up in his room. The four lacrosse sticks revealed his passion, but I did find out that he played some soccer--so maybe I would see him on the pitch.
Off and on I saw Grady over the next few days, but we obviously moved in very different circles. The junior social orbit was very different from that of the freshmen. He caught my eye though every time our paths crossed, it didn't matter if it was passing shoulder to shoulder in the halls, or from across the field during athletics. Throughout the fall term, he seemed to always spy me and we would exchange a smile or nod. I knew he made the freshman soccer team and I made an effort to talk to him about how things were going on the team.
It wasn't until my senior year that we actually began to interact more. He tried out for varsity soccer, and while lacrosse was his game, he was a very solid, and versatile soccer player. We put all the varsity candidates through a range of positions, and as team captain, I opined that Grady seemed to play every position with ease. As a defender, he was fearless in a tackle and had a leg that could drive the ball beyond midfield. At midfield, my position, he had the stamina to roam the field and the accuracy to position the ball for an attack on goal. And as a forward, he seemed very adept at getting himself open for an attack. The coach was grinning as I finished and took a breath, "so you like Grady for varsity then?"
I went to bed that night excited at the idea that Grady and I would be on the same team. As I began my nightly ritual of slow stroking myself to orgasm, his cute face and lean body filled my mental images. Why did this kid have such an effect on me? On the field, he was so attentive. Always listened to direction and coaching, always eager to follow through. It seemed like he was hanging off every word I spoke--and every time he looked at me, he looked AT me. Almost like he was looking into me.
I lost count of the number of times that we locked eyes for way too long. I felt really close to him and hoped he felt the same way but was never sure. I did notice though that he was ALWAYS watching me, and not just on the soccer field.
Being on the same team, I saw him for the first time naked at tryouts and had to use all my willpower not to pop a boner. But in the past year, he shot past me in height and was still growing into his body, but his lean hard muscle was rivaling mine. I noticed that more often than not, he would take the shower head next to mine. I'd scope him out as subtly as I could; but I also noticed that he always seemed to be checking me out; in the shower, changing at the lockers or even while pissing at the urinals. I started to make a point of giving him an opportunity to look at me "without my noticing"; and every time he didn't disappoint. From my peripheral vision, I felt him snapping mental images of me during these almost intimate male moments. It was then that I realized that he might be crushing on me as much as I was on him.
Finally, I got up the nerve to move on my desires during my senior year.
It was an atypical late fall day; unseasonably warm and humid. Both of us were on the skins team in scrimmage, so we were playing shirtless with rivulets of sweat pouring down our lean bodies and soaking the waistbands of our shorts. As the rest of the team headed for the showers, I diverted towards the boathouse, trying to catch Grady's attention along the way. By the time I was halfway to the boathouse, I could see him moving in the same direction. As I entered the dark, cool building, my heart was pounding with excitement and I could feel my cock beginning to swell in my sweaty jockstrap.
As Grady came through the door, I grabbed and pulled him into me, our sweaty bodies mashing together. I felt my hard-on pressing up against the bulge in his shorts while the scent of his fresh sweat was literally making my head spin. I went in for the kiss I had been fantasizing about for over a year, going up on my toes as Grady bent his head down for our lips to align. He was almost trembling in my hands as he closed his eyes and gave himself to our first kiss.
Our lips had only skimmed each other when the door at the far end of the boathouse slammed shut and we heard the groundskeeper bitching up a storm. We blew apart like a bomb had gone off between us, slipped out of the boathouse as quietly as we could and beat feet back to the locker room. I think we were both so freaked out at almost being caught that we couldn't even look at each other.
The near discovery shook me to the core as I was just starting to get acting gigs, and I knew being branded gay would derail my career. The rush of my senior spring term at Mayo and Grady being so dedicated to winning every game kept us both completely engaged in sports and studies yet separated. In the final whirlwind it was my graduation before everyone bolted to the four winds.
That was the last time I saw him; 12 years ago; but he was never out of my mind. I thought about him constantly, what could have been. A few years later, I got my first real role; Billy Douglas on One Life to Live, closeted gay teenager no less. The reviewers said I captured the angst perfectly; little did they know I saw Grady in the face of my on-screen "love interest" every day.
It was strangely comforting as I wandered through campus. I was trying to maintain a low profile; I even shaved the stubble I typically sport when not on set. At half time, I managed to slip unnoticed into the bleachers at the lacrosse game and at 5' 9" it wasn't too hard to find "big people" to hide behind.
Of course, I Grady spied earlier down on the sideline; a little taller and definitely more filled out. Not that I was stalking, but his socials weren't too hard to find on-line, University of Maryland lacrosse and firefighting were pretty solid search leads. He had moved to the lower bench of the bleachers as the crowd began to thin out when I saw Crenshaw depart for her next event.
I took a deep breath, this was going to be it. While making my way down the steps, I realized my heart was pounding just like back at the boathouse and I almost felt as flustered as the day I first met him but I was committed. It had been too long and I regretted how we had lost touch; I just hoped that he still had some of the same feelings for me as I had for him.
Just as I reached out to clamp down on his shoulder, I was hit by his scent--that intoxicating, fresh, athletic smell; it took me rushing back to the boathouse all over again. My fingers dug into the solid mass of his deltoids as I uttered the line I'd been practicing..."Grady...fucking...McBride".
I felt his muscles tense, then relax once he realized who it was. He didn't miss a beat though, turning with his classic easy smile, "Mr. Hollywood, how nice to see you again."
I raised a finger to my lips, "Shhhh, I'm incognito!" I paused, not having thought of what words I would say beyond hello. The next words seemed to flow without thinking, "I've missed you. I've really missed you."