Gay Black Stories Novels & Stories

The tears that had stopped are now back with a vengeance; "I-I l-live on m-my o-own; h-have b-been f-for t-the l-last t-two y-years. I-I'm 17 y-years o-old." Black Jack's face falls for a split second before he schools his expression back to neutral; "Why, did you runaway or something?" Frowning as I harshly wipe my face free of my tears, shakily admitting; "I-I w-was ki-kicked o-out b-because I-I'm g-gay. M-my p-parents d-don't a-agree s-since it g-goes a-against t-their b-beliefs." Black Jack is silent, too silent that I start to believe that he is repulsed by me like my parents are. He quietly asks as he studies my face; "Liam, where are you living now?"

“Don’t believe a word he says. But if you want to talk about real injuries, let me tell you about the time I dislocated both my hips and still won my fight.” “I think that’s enough tall tales for one afternoon,” I say before George can fill Cassandra with more stories that might or might not be true. “Sorry, boys, but my new boss is a real hard-ass,” Cassandra tells them and then whispers loudly enough for me to hear, “If I can sneak back over here later, I want to hear all about that hip thing.” “You got it,” George tells her with a wink. “I think you’ve got a fan club,” I say when we walk to the front of the gym.