I always had my suspicions about Nathen. Ever since high school, he carried himself with this inexplicable swagger. He was handsome of course, but always seemed to lack some depth for emotional connections. Based on our conversations, he had the capacity to carry his emotions, yet he never extended it to the girls that he was involved with. Something always seemed to be missing.
Nathen and I got to know each other through sports in school. He played opposite me on the soccer field—I played left wing, him right. He was also a fellow lightweight on the wrestling team, which offered me up the first opportunity to see what all the girls must have been gawking at.
His frame was small, much like my own, but he filled out the lower part of his singlet quite impeccably. I didn’t really get to see much from an anterior perspective, but on one occasion in which he was slightly overweight, he dropped his boxers to expose a chiseled posterior when stepping back onto the scale. Dimples graced his glutei like that of a gladiator. As soon as I noticed how this was making me feel, I immediately looked away. After all, I was straight and had a girlfriend.