I had a meeting with my career counselor first thing Monday morning. Her office was like the reception room of a Zen spa, with succulents and candles. It even had a little container of sand with a tiny rake for kids to rake away their worries. I barely resisted the urge to rake the sand into perfect, tidy rows.

“So, I should sign up for these on-campus interviews now?” I asked my counselor. We’d been talking about the interview round coming up, in which Goldman Sachs, Deloitte, PWC, and several other large investment banks and consulting firms would be visiting campus to recruit seniors.

“Yes, if you’re still interested in pursuing these companies,” she said, her voice calm and smile serene. “Are you?”

“I guess,” I told her, and when I looked up, her brow was furrowed as she studied me. “I mean, what else am I gonna do, right?”

“Well there are certainly a lot of other options out there, Jack,” she said and I could feel the meeting running away from me. I didn’t need to hear another pitch for Teach for America or the Peace Corps.

“I know, I know. We’ve been through them. But this is the only thing that makes sense to me right now,” I told her. This is the only thing that even makes a dent in my student loans, I thought.

She nodded and opened a new tab on her desktop. “In that case, we can get you signed up right here. What about Monday the 30^th for Goldman and Wednesday afternoon on the 1^st for Deloitte? Your classes end by late morning those days, right?”

I confirmed and we worked together to book a three interviews that week. I couldn’t believe how far out in advance I had to reserve these interviews. The earliest were still a full month away. It just made me all the more nervous about the whole process. I was lucky to have thought to check for spots now while there were still options available.

When I left the office, pamphlets about the importance of preparing for case study interviews and rigorous questioning in hand, the knot of anxiety in my stomach felt like it had tripled in size. I should’ve raked some of that damn sand before I left.

I nearly collided with Peter in my rush to get out of the career counseling center. He was just entering the lobby, his woodsy smell rushing over me as I stopped short just inches from his chest. “Oh, hey,” I said, looking up into his bright green eyes. He was so damn tall. At six feet myself, I wasn’t used to people just towering over me like this. It was new and extremely sexy.

His eyes took me in and he gave a lazy grin. “Hey, Jack,” he said. “You good?”

I wondered what my face must’ve looked like. Still frozen in its anxious twist from before? Lusty and sweaty like I felt? I cleared my throat and nodded, “Yeah, yeah. You?”

Peter looked quizzical, like he didn’t quite believe me, but he didn’t push it. “Yep, just got a meeting with my advisor,” he nodded towards the reception desk. I was surprised, basketball players weren’t exactly known for their career ambitions, but did my best not to show it.

I scrambled for a reason to prolong our conversation, not wanting to leave behind his delicious smell and his gorgeous, open face. He had me dazed, I could barely think straight when I looked at him. But as Peter moved to adjust the gym bag slung across his shoulder, it hit me—we did have something to talk about!

“That was a great game the other night,” I told him, doing my best to hold eye contact, to stare straight into his vivid green eyes. Breathe, Jack. Breathe.

I was rewarded with the dimples and the dashing grin. What I wouldn’t give to see them every minute of every day. “Thanks, man,” he said. “Didn’t know you were a fan.”

I blushed and looked down at my feet. He had no idea how much of a fan I really was. “What can I say,” I said, “you’re really good. That three-pointer in the last quarter while that forward was right on you? That was killer.”

Peter’s brow furrowed and then he was the one blushing. “I didn’t mean—” he said, “I wasn’t trying to say you were watching just for me…just didn’t know you were into basketball.”

Fuck. Of course, that’s what he meant. I wanted to melt into the floor. I struggled to keep my face from crumpling in disgust at my own idiocy.

Peter must have sensed my unease. “Not that I—” he shook his head, his dark curls swaying a little as his head moved back and forth. I felt breathless as I watched him. Even humiliated, I found it hard to look away. “Just thanks, man. Thanks for watching.”

His kindness kept surprising me. It was impossible to be embarrassed in the face of his humility. Though he wasn’t smiling, his cheeks were pink and his eyes were warm on mine. He seemed affirmed in some way, like my compliment had assured him of something.

“Peter Wick?” the receptionist at the front desk called his name, looking over at us. “Ms. James is ready for you.”

Peter nodded at her but didn’t move, his eyes barely leaving mine. “I guess that’s my cue.”

“Hope it goes well,” I said softly. “And if I don’t see you, good luck at the next game!”

“Thanks, Jack. You should come out to see us sometime! It’s even better in real life.”

I could feel my heart racing at his invitation. Not that he’d even see me at the game, but still…it was a good sign, right?

The receptionist loudly cleared her throat in agitation.

“I’d like that,” I told Peter. “Thanks. I guess you should go.”

Peter flashed me one last grin and a mock salute, rolling his eyes as he tilted his head toward the antsy receptionist who was now tapping her foot with impatience. My heart beat even faster in my chest as he turned and walked toward her. I liked this playful Peter; this basketball star who hoped I’d be at his next game.

I waited until he’d disappeared into the next room before I pushed open the door and headed to meet with my modern history professor, who’d assigned a forty-page paper on World War II due next week. As I headed to my professor’s office to discuss revisions, I thought of Peter’s warm, toothy grin, and of the forest green sweater that had brought out flecks of copper in his mossy eyes. I felt my phone buzz as I walked, and pulling it out, I saw a new message from Peter.

Glad I ran into you. Could use some help tonight before test tomorrow if you’re free. Lau at 8?

I was hoping to incorporate my professor’s comments on my paper tonight since I had to work the next few afternoons, but the thought of sitting close to Peter, his green eyes watching me, his honeysuckle scent washing over me, that grin…was it really a choice? I texted back immediately.

See you then.

After meeting with my history professor, whose suggestions for my essay were substantial enough to doom me to little sleep for the next week, I hurried back to my apartment to eat, shower, and shave before meeting up with Peter. I rubbed moisturizer on my parched skin and took extra care patting down my hair into constrained chaos. I then wrapped myself in my favorite sweater and warmest scarf. My heart was pounding as I left my apartment and headed out to meet Peter, already picturing those deep green eyes, that steady grin.

To my chagrin, I found Peter on the second floor with a table full of other guys from the team, all of them hulking giants in their Georgetown gear. Some of the other guys were so jacked that Peter looked almost small in comparison. And still his beauty, his body, were dazzling.

“Hey man,” I said, setting my bag down on an empty seat next to Peter and taking off my coat. The other guys looked up at me and then to Peter, clearly confused by the entry of such a miniscule human among them.

“Hey, Jack. This is Chase, Austin, and Ian,” he said, introducing them in turn. “Guys, this is Jack. He’s helping me pass Spanish, I hope.”

“¡Muy bien!” joked Chase.

Austin just rolled his eyes and started packing up his bag. “Maybe we’ll hire you for the whole team,” he said. Then, to Chase and Ian he said, “Dinner time boys?”

I exhaled slowly as they started to gather their things, glad that I wouldn’t have to tutor Peter with an audience. His confidence speaking the language seemed low enough as it was. And besides, I wanted him to myself.

“So, your test is tomorrow?” I asked him, and he nodded, waving off the other guys as they headed toward the elevators.

“Same stuff we went over last time, except there’s always a listening section on the tests, and I suck at those,” he said. “Plus, some short answer questions or an essay. I usually run out of time to even finish that part.”

I nodded. “Yeah, the listening sections are always pretty tough. The key is to just try to be as familiar as possible with the vocab. And take notes as you’re listening, even if you just catch fragments.”

Peter nodded, though he looked skeptical. “I try!” he said. “I really do. They just speak so freaking fast.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It wasn’t until I actually traveled abroad and had to use Spanish to be able to eat and shower that I started to be able to understand it.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. “Where’d you go? Spain?”

“Yeah, I’ve been to Spain, actually, the summer before college. But I went to Peru first, on a mission trip in high school. And I stayed with a family that didn’t speak any English then, so I really had to step it up just to do the most basic stuff.”

“Makes sense,” Peter said. “So did you see Machu Picchu?”

“Yeah, actually. We got to hike it at the end of the trip. You’ve been?”

“Nah,” Peter said. “Never been out of the country. Dying to though. Looks incredible online.”

“It was pretty spectacular,” I agreed. “You should definitely go.”

Peter sighed. “Someday, man. Someday.” He looked wistful and a little sad. I wished I knew him better so I could ask what he was thinking.

“Should we get started?” I asked gently, my voice barely a whisper.

Peter nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why don’t you go back through your vocab flashcards and I’ll find a few videos online that we can use to practice your listening comprehension. Then we can practice writing sentences and short compositions before we call it for the night.”

We got to work, me on my computer while Peter turned flashcard after flashcard, his brow slightly furrowed. His concentration was utterly distracting and I did my best not to get caught staring, again, at the lip he’d caught between his teeth. I forced myself to focus back on my screen, where I pulled open a few different tabs with short clips for us to use.

It was after we’d already watched a couple of short videos that a YouTube ad popped up that we were forced to sit through to see more content. I was just starting to grumble about the annoyance when the on-screen shot stopped me cold in my tracks. A muscled, blonde Adonis was just stepping out of the shower as the lights went out, leaving only a trail of candlelight from the bathroom to the rest of the apartment, where a tan, lanky, and equally attractive guy lay waiting on the floor surrounded by a wide circle of candles, naked but for the giant box of condoms covering his junk.

I tried to keep my breathing from sputtering out of me as my cock grew hard, not only at the sight of the sexy pre-coital couple on screen but at the thought of watching them together with Peter sitting only inches away from me. His scent was washing over me, his eyes locked on the screen, his body tense. I didn’t dare breathe as the ad played, the freshly showered man following the trail of candles to his sexy prize.

I let out a short guffaw of breath halfway between a laugh and sigh when the ad finally clicked over to the Spanish video we’d been waiting for. I snuck a glance at Peter again and found him watching me, a flush in his cheeks and a bright smolder in his eyes.

I raised my eyebrows and risked a tiny smile, and Peter, seeing it, exhaled and ran a hand through his hair, chuckling lowly. “Quite the ads they have these days,” he said. I wanted desperately to know more of what he thought, to watch it again but this time with my eyes trained only on him.

“Never would have seen that a few years ago,” I said, and it was true. I didn’t think I’d ever seen a gay couple in a condom ad before and it warmed something in me, regardless of the lust it inspired, to see a young and loving couple represented so casually this way. I reached out and paused the Spanish video that had been blathering along in the background behind us.

Peter nodded. “Took them long enough,” he said, and my heart swelled further. I felt the unexpected prick of tears behind my eyes. I was overwhelmed suddenly, not realizing how worried I’d been, in the back of my mind, that he might say or think otherwise, might react negatively to the gay love we’d seen. I hadn’t realized how worried I’d been that his jock status and his popularity might equate to closed-mindedness, bigotry, fear. I was relieved to know I’d been wrong. I’d been the judgmental one, not Peter. He was endlessly kind.

I could only nod, afraid I’d end up crying if I tried to speak. I paused a second before I started the Spanish video again, rewinding and pressing play so we could listen from the beginning. By the end of two more videos (with far less interesting opening ads), Peter was starting to get a knack for listening for key words and piecing together basic meaning.

“These are a lot harder than what you’ll have for your test, too,” I told him, “because I just picked these online and they’re not particularly chosen to have only words you should know.”

Peter looked less than confident, so I pushed on. “Really, Pete,” I said, blushing at the nickname, which felt intimate on my tongue. “I think you’re gonna rock this.”

“Thanks, man,” he said. His eyes caught mine and he smiled. “I feel better about it. Really appreciate your help.”

He brought his hand forward and rested it lightly on my own for just a moment, and I forgot to breathe. The pressure of his skin was gone just as fast and then he was packing up his bag and pulling on his coat, the smell of honey and cedar washing over me as he pulled his arms through its sleeves.

“I’m beat, man,” he said. “I’ve gotta call it for the night. But thanks again for your help.”

“Anytime, Peter,” I told him honestly, my voice plaintive to my own ears.

“See ya, Jack,” he said, holding out his hand for a bro half-shake, half-hug, the type I’d never quite gotten the hang of. I grabbed his right hand in my own and pulled him close, lightly resting my left hand on his toned shoulder blade and breathing him in. He was warm and close, and I could hear my heartbeat churning in my ears. I released him all too soon. His eyes met mine as he pulled away and headed for the door. They were bright, inquisitive, and, could it be, intrigued?