Being True

Readers love the
Provincetown

series by J
ACOB
Z. F
LORES

When Love Takes Over

“Jacob has a way of writing that puts you in the story and just won’t let go.”

—The Novel Approach

“The author had a certain way with words that gets you very interested in what he is going to pull out next in the story… makes sure you feel humor, drama and hotness throughout the story.”

—Love Bytes (The Blog of Sid Love)

Chasing the Sun

“I have to say that when it comes to man on man intimacy Jacob Flores has a peculiar way of taking you in a wild ride no matter the genre of the book. I quite love his men…”

—MM Good Book Reviews

When Love Gets Hairy

“I absolutely loved this story! I was rooting for these two to the point where I literally couldn’t put the book down.”

—Hearts on Fire

“This addition to the series is just as lively and fun to read as the last two.”

—The Romance Reviews

When Love Comes to Town

“I couldn’t put the book down.”

—Rainbow Golden Reviews

By
J
ACOB
Z. F
LORES

3

Being True

The Gifted One

P
ROVINCETOWN

When Love Takes Over

Chasing the Sun

When Love Gets Hairy

When Love Comes to Town

Published by
D
REAMSPINNER
P
RESS

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Copyright

Published by

D
REAMSPINNER
P
RESS

5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886  USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Being True

© 2014 Jacob Z. Flores.

Cover Design

© 2014 Paul Richmond.

www.paulrichmond.com

Cover Photo

© 2014 JTownsendPhotos.

www.jtownsendphotos.com

Cover Models

© 2014 Nick C. & Nicholas S.

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.

ISBN: 978-1-63216-379-0

Digital ISBN: 978-1-63216-380-6

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014945076

First Edition September 2014

Printed in the United States of America

This paper meets the requirements of

ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).

To Amy and Rhys

You both know all about being true. I love you.

Chapter 1

R
ANCE
P
ARKER
slammed my head against the tile of the boys’ gym shower where he’d cornered me. “Fucking fag!” He spat in my face and shoved me. I tripped over the three-inch-high barrier separating the showers from the locker room and fell on my back. Hard. The impact knocked the wind out of me and caused the world to spin.

My heartbeat thundered in my ears, and my breath escaped in ragged pants. I tried to get up, to scramble somewhere where Rance’s meaty paws couldn’t get me, but my sneakers slid across the slick green tile that smelled like mold and ripe feet.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Rance asked behind me. His steps were slow and measured. He was in no rush. And why would he be? We were alone.

Javi wasn’t here like Claudia said he would be. I’d only found Rance, getting dressed in a fresh pair of shorts after a workout. When he saw me enter the locker room with the camera Claudia had loaned me, the storm of hate that had brewed within him all day was unleashed.

And now I was on my knees trying to crawl toward the second shower exit a few feet away. There, salvation waited in the form of a dry concrete slab where my feet would find the traction they needed for a rabbit sprint out of this musty foxhole.

Rance wasn’t about to let that happen.

He lifted me by my shirt collar. He then clutched my shoulders and hoisted me until I dangled about four inches from his face. His hot, rancid breath plumed across my cheeks, and a nauseating mixture of onions and sweaty ass assaulted my nose.

He evidently preferred beating up on the new kid to addressing personal hygiene.

“You’re gonna wish you never came to my school. Or called me a douche,” he said as he shook me from side to side. A sneer broke across his hard features, and his brown eyes turned black. The sadistic prick enjoyed this. But was that really any surprise? “And what kind of a fucking name is Truman Cobbler?”

This, from a douche named Rance? But irony was typically lost on the bullies. Most couldn’t even spell the word.

“And who the fuck was your dad, you weird-looking little fuck?” He flicked my big ears, which had been the subject of a popular taunt throughout the years. “Donkey from
Shrek
? Is that who your dad was, you fucking cocksucker? Does your mother fuck donkeys?” He laughed as if he’d told the funniest joke in the world. “She must, because with your big-ass ears and horse teeth, there’s no way your dad was a real man like me.”

“My dad was more of a man than you’ll ever be,” I said without thinking. I knew better than to talk back when getting beaten up. Giving lip only made them punch you harder. If you kept your mouth shut, they eventually got tired and left.

But my dad was a raw nerve. And I’d just made a comment I’d hopefully live to regret.

“What did you say, faggot?” Rance asked as he shoved me backward. My feet slipped from underneath me again, and I landed on my ass. Flares of pain shot through my legs, but I didn’t have time to nurse my wounds.

If I didn’t get out of there soon, I’d likely never feel anything again.

“Do you think I’m gonna let you talk back to me again?” He drew closer, his bare, sweaty chest heaving like he was a mad bull and I was the matador’s red flag. “No one talks back to me. Gives
me
shit. Those who do learn to shut up real fucking quick.” He cracked his knuckles, the universal sign that the beating was about to begin.

I scooted backward like a crab, trying to increase the distance between us. Rance was practically twice my size, which wasn’t saying much. I was just over five and a half feet tall. Still, my brand new, sandy-haired, brown-eyed tormentor was probably the biggest bully I’d ever encountered. His fist most likely struck like Thor’s hammer.

But big guys like Rance usually cornered no better than a semi. My small size was an advantage against big oafs. I had speed born from years of survival. All I needed was a diversion.

Like the one Ms. Garcia had given me earlier this morning.

“A
LL
RIGHT
,
that’s enough,” Ms. Garcia had told the two boys who shoved me against the lockers. I had been walking the halls of Burbank High, my new school, no more than five minutes before I attracted the attention of haters.

When they stopped to gawk over their shoulders at her, I grabbed my book bag and darted through the sea of students who stopped to watch the show. Many had amused expressions on their faces like a ringside audience at a boxing match. Only the kids at the top of the food chain grinned at such sights. They’d obviously never been on the other end of the fist.

Some of the other faces I blew past appeared almost grateful, as if they were relieved someone new had arrived to take the heat off them in the shark-infested waters of high school. They were like me. At the bottom of the food chain. The minnows off which the predators thrived. The only difference between me and the other outcasts was my newness. They could school together for protection while I was left to float on the surface like chum.