Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight.

This is unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.

MA: This story will eventually have explicit and lemony scenes. If boy x boy relations offend you please don't read any further.

-iwtfy-

I started working with horses as a summer job when I was fifteen. My brother got me the job. He was three years older than me and had a reputation as a hard worker. I was hired based on his reputation.

I was both proud and embarrassed by my brother. When he was sixteen Emmett had asked my parents for permission to quit school and my parents agreed as long as he had a full-time job before he dropped out. They had painfully observed Emmett struggling to pass every grade and it was easy to see that academics would never be in his future. The next day he landed his first job at the local racetrack and he's never looked back.

When he dropped out there were a lot of questions and comments from my peers. Some of them were curious and others were hurtful. We lived in an upper middle class neighbourhood and none of us had ever known anyone to drop out in the middle of the tenth grade unless they were involved in drugs or with some other illicit activity. It was unheard of to have parents supporting what most considered to be such a drastic mistake. As in any First World country, there aren't a lot of jobs in Canada you could land without a high school diploma. Years later I've come to realize that Emmett presented some of the classic signs for dyslexia. I brought it up to my parents a couple of months ago and while they agreed with my assessment, they decided to never mention it to him. To them it didn't matter because Emmett was doing what he loved.

"Hey little Cullen."

I nodded in acknowledgment to a few of the other grooms who'd greeted me as I entered the cafeteria. Even though Emmett had moved to Toronto last year to work at an A track, he had made a name for himself here and it appeared that I was always going to be referred to as his little brother. The reference to little wasn't only about age. Even though I was over six feet tall and lean, Emmett was about three inches taller and was built like a linebacker.

After standing in line to grab a burger I sat down at an unoccupied corner table and whipped out a book to read. Usually I bought my lunch and left, but lately I'd stuck around, if only to catch a glimpse of my latest crush. He was new around here and I didn't know his name or who he worked for. The instant I'd caught sight of him strolling into the cafeteria in his beat up jeans, tight blue t-shirt, and blonde curls, I was trapped. I knew he was straight and I had no intention of even striking up a conversation, but damn if I couldn't keep from looking. I'd seen him for the first time three days ago and I already knew his routine.

He would be walking in here any minute to order a plate of poutine and a coffee. His equally blonde girlfriend, who looked like a swimsuit model, would join him about ten minutes later. He was very protective of her, always glaring with his stunning blue eyes at anyone who dared look at her for more than a second. I usually made my escape when she came in, never able to look their way in fear that I might see some sort of affection between them. It was crazy, I'd never spoken a word to him, yet I could a feel tightness across my chest whenever she joined him at the table. I practically ran out of the room each time and had to collect myself once I reached the outside.

I knew my behaviour was unhealthy and I should probably stop seeking out any sightings of him, but it has almost become an all consuming addiction. Yesterday, I'd manufactured a reason to walk the whole length of the backstretch, hoping to figure out what stable he worked for. I hadn't seen him and my disappointment was overwhelming.

As I waited for him to show up I kept my nose buried in my book, hoping to deter anyone from sitting with me. I didn't fit in with the typical racetrack workers and it made it awkward for me to socialize. For one thing, I was much younger than almost everyone else. Secondly, I was still in school. This was a summer job for me and that was very uncommon here. Of the hundreds of backstretch workers only a handful were teenagers and they were the usual burnouts who'd quit school because of drugs or crime and couldn't get work anywhere else. My brother had been an exception, and now I was too.

Emmett had always loved horseracing, and having grown up in a racetrack town we had a lot of exposure our entire childhood. Our grandfather on my mother's side had been a jockey's agent for thirty years, and both sides of my parents' families spent their weekends watching and betting on the thoroughbreds. My mom loved to tell the story of how my dad had taken three year old Emmett to the Racetrack only an hour after I was born, leaving her alone at the hospital all day. Absurdly, it was a happy memory for her.

We were all proud of my brother's progress through the ranks and how his reputation had become so impressive that he'd had offers from all of the top stables. He'd worked his way up from hotwalker to groom within months, and four years later he was an assistant trainer for one of the top stables at Woodbine, the higher end racetrack located in the most populated city in Canada.

I missed him terribly since he'd moved, but it was a relief too. My brother had a hot temper and he was extremely protective of me. The backstretch at a small town racetrack was as close minded as it can get, and there isn't a shadow of a doubt in my mind that there would have been some kind of violence if my sexual preference had ever been discovered. I would have been threatened for being gay, and Emmett probably would have ended up arrested for defending me. Even when I was fifteen it was glaringly obvious that this was not only a man's world, but it was most definitely a heterosexual man's world. I didn't need any advice on whether to stay in the closet at work - it was never really a choice.

I was fourteen when I discovered my preference; developing a hard on while watching my brother's best friend Paul saunter around the house shirtless was a pretty good indication that I liked boys. I tried for the same reaction while spying on a couple of girls who were sunbathing topless next door, but my dick refused to spring to life. In fact, I think it might have shrunken up even more if that was possible.

The only person in the world who knows I'm gay is Garrett. We'd met in the tenth grade and had hit it off immediately... as friends. He was openly gay and had what he described as extremely sensitive gaydar. I'd always had a reason to hold back from telling anyone, yet he'd ferreted out the truth after knowing me for a whole five minutes. He was also my only male experience with kissing. It had only happened once and we'd both quickly agreed that it hadn't felt right.

I turned seventeen two weeks ago and I've still never been in a relationship. I'd had female 'dates' for events, but I've never dated anyone. Over the years there'd been a few very forward girls who'd planted their mouths on mine before I could avoid it. Needless to say I hadn't enjoyed any of those experiences either. Lately Garrett has been tried to convince me to go out a gay club with him in one of the neighbouring cities. I can't picture myself in that kind of scene. I always imagined having my first experiences with someone I cared about, not being groped by a stranger in public.

So here I was, a frustrated, totally inexperienced seventeen year old, who was still hovering over the choices I'd made years ago to keep an important side of myself secret.

I had one more summer in this town and at this job, and then I would be off to University.

One more year that I planned to stay firmly in the closet.

-iwtfy-

Author's note: Before I hear an outcry, Edward has some legitimate reasons why he keeps working in such an intolerant atmosphere. They'll be explained in future chapters.

Please review - I'd love to hear what you think!

F.Y.I.

The backstretch is the area at the racetrack where the barns are located. It is off-limits to anyone who doesn't carry a license to work there. For most tracks the backstretch is situated opposite the viewing stands, beyond the far 'stretch' of the track itself.

A hotwalker is someone who walks the horses around the shed row. Horses are walked for exercise while their stalls are being cleaned and/or for a cooling down period after a workout or race.

An 'A' track is a racetrack with higher purses (winnings). Horses racing at an 'A' track are generally worth more money and have made more profits than those racing at 'B' tracks.