Chapter 1
1
“Hey, Frodo! How’s it goin’?” Bill Billingsly called out as he passed Frank Bethune and Frank’s friend and roommate, Mark Tatum, on the diag at the center of campus. It was mid-fall—the height of football season.
“Okay, I guess,” Frank responded, his heart quickening more than a tad as Bill and a group of fellow football players went by.
After they had passed, Frank turned to watch them walk off through the throng of students who were making their way to their next classes.
Mark also turned and watched Bill and his entourage disappear into the crowd. “Jerk!”
“He’s not,” Frank said, as he and Mark walked off.
“How can he not be? Him and those football lunks, struttin’ around campus like they own the place, expectin’ everyone to kowtow to ‘em like they’re royalty.”
“He’s not like that. He’s different,” Frank insisted.
“And you know this how?”
“I don’t know, he just is.”
“If he’s not like that, then why does he call you Frodo? That’s some kind of a put-down isn’t it?”
“I don’t know why he calls me Frodo. Cuz I’m small, I guess.”
“Isn’t Frodo a dwarf or something in those Lord of the Rings movies?”
“No. He’s a hobbit and the hero of the story.”
“I still think it’s demeaning for him to call you that. He’s makin’ fun of your size. And I think he’s no different from the rest of those football goons,” Mark said.
Frank didn’t really know if Bill was different from the rest of the football players who generally had heads too big for their already huge bodies, especially when they were having a successful season as this one was. He guessed he just wanted Bill to be different. Frank had had a crush on the handsome tight end ever since seeing him playing for The U of M on television when Frank was still in high school.
Soon after Frank had come to the University of Michigan on a gymnastics athletic scholarship, he’d run into Bill in one of the weight training rooms reserved for athletes. The guy was doing weighted push-ups next to where Frank was working out on the lat pull-down machine. Frank realized who he was immediately. e Frank had had to struggle to keep from sprouting wood while watching Bill work his magnificent body just a few feet away, clad only in clingy sweat shorts, which left little to the imagination. Frank had hoped to meet the guy ever since Frank had been accepted at the school. Yet when the opportunity arose, as it had that day, Frank was completely starstruck and at a loss as to what to do or say.
Bill finished with what he was doing and walked to where Frank sat staring at him, his workout on the machine forgotten.
The giant stood in front of him, thick hairy legs spread, sweat matting the profuse rug of hair on his heavily muscled chest, his prominent package tantalizingly close, and asked, “You done with that?”
“What?” Frank felt himself blush at the lameness of his response.
“I said, are you done with the machine?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah sure. All yours, Bill.”
Bill smiled. “Well, I see you know who I am, but I don’t know who you are.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen you play on TV.”
Frank felt his blush deepen when he realized he’d missed Bill’s point. He hastily added, “Oh, I’m Frank.”
Bill’s smile deepened. “So, Frank, what brings you to the weight room?” he asked, giving Frank a sweeping appraisal.
Frank felt he needed to clarify why he was in the room restricted to athletes. “I’m on the gymnastics team.”
Once more Bill’s eyes swept Frank from head to toe. “That figures. Nice to meet you.”
Bill offered a hand, which Frank took, and pulled Frank to his feet. Bill seemed to tower over the smaller man. Frank once again tried to quell, only semi-successfully, the swoop of arousal that washed over him.
After shaking hands, Frank moved away from the bench to let Bill sit. Bill reset the resistance, about five times where Frank had it, and began his workout. Frank stood for as long as he dared, watching Bill’s biceps bulge and his lats flare, as he pulled down on the weighted bar, lifting the stack of heavy weights as if they were a bag of feathers
When he’d stared as long as he felt he could, without it being obvious he was perving on Bill, Frank sort of waved and turned to leave. Bill grunted and said, “Sorry you have to leave so soon. Nice to meet you, Frodo. See ya around.”
As Frank walked to the showers, hoping he’d be there long enough for Bill to join him, he wondered, Didn’t Bill understand when I told him my name was Frank, or is he teasing, calling me Frodo cuz I’m so short and have curly hair like a hobbit?
Either way, Frank wasn’t offended. He kind of liked that this big, handsome stud wanted to give him a nickname. That night, alone in his dorm room, Frodo and Bill were once again in the weight room, only the type of workout they were engaged in was decidedly different.2
“For our last project of the term, you will be required to participate in the production of a one-act play. It will be your final exam,” Professor Klein told Frank’s freshman acting class.