Rory and I met a half dozen times over the next couple of weeks at the same Starbucks. I wouldn’t claim that my comprehension of statistics got better with each session, but I felt like I was making a mental breakthrough of some kind. I didn’t panic when a lengthy word problem asked for the dreaded median, mean, and mode. I simply took a deep breath, plotted out the best course of action, and got to work. My efforts didn’t always result in a correct answer, but my quiz scores improved from total crap to moderately stinky. I certainly wasn’t out of the woods, but I was beginning to think there was a decent chance I might pass statistics and graduate as planned.

I might not like the subject, but I liked Rory. A lot. I looked forward to our coffee-shop meetings. He always arrived before me and somehow commandeered the same table overlooking the parking lot. We traded off buying each other’s drinks. It wasn’t something we talked about. It just evolved, like a funny tradition you looked forward to without realizing it had become a “thing.” I’d either hand over his latte, no foam, or he’d slide my iced coffee across the table as I flopped into my chair. We’d tap our to-go cups and make small talk about the weather, the traffic, my most recent game, his kids at the Y, or his job search. Once he declared it was time to get to work, there was no goofing around.

Rory’s mission was to help me pass, and he was determined to make it happen. He had a way of assessing my moods and encouraging me to keep going when he could tell I was ready to give up. He exuded a Zen-like aura of patience and serene calm that didn’t quite match his tatted bad-boy exterior. But the second he closed the textbook, he morphed back into the slightly intimidating hunk with rough, prickly edges and a bawdy sense of humor. He fascinated me. And yes, he turned me on. But I couldn’t be sure if it was the naughty twinkle in his eye or his obvious intelligence that got to me. Whatever the reason, I was more than inspired to keep my end of the deal and show up on time, ready, and willing to learn.

Until my eyes crossed and I couldn’t concentrate anymore.

“…divide x into y to find the variable and—hey, did I lose you?” Rory asked, snapping his fingers in front of my nose.

“Letters turning into numbers. My brain can’t take it,” I groused woefully as I slumped in my chair.

Rory closed the textbook, then leaned forward and patted my hand. It wasn’t much contact, but I felt like I’d been zapped by a rogue electric current. I met his gaze and swallowed hard when my heart beat like a drum. I was all for having an excuse to touch him or stare at him, but sometimes his nearness overwhelmed me. Or maybe it was just his hotness. I did my best to tune in when I saw his lips move.

“…done for today. Let me know how you do.”

“How I do what?”

Rory snorted. “Wow. I really did lose you. Text me after your quiz. If you can remember anything that stumps you, we’ll try to go over it again before your big test next week.”

I sighed heavily. “I doubt I’ll remember anything. Geez, I’ll be lucky to make it out of there alive. I have a game tomorrow. I can study over the weekend.”

He regarded me for a long moment before speaking. “Is your game local?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm. Maybe I’ll come.”

“To my game?” I sat up tall and furrowed my brow, instantly alert and confused as hell.

Rory chuckled at my wide-eyed expression. “Yeah. You know, I’ve seen you play.”

“Really? When?”

“A few weeks ago. Sometime after we’d first started this tutoring gig,” he replied casually.

“You should have told me you were there.”

“Dude, the stadium was a madhouse. It’s already small, and they pack ’em in like sardines. I couldn’t have announced myself without climbing over a dozen people to get to you,” he huffed.

“Oh. I wish I’d known.” I kept my voice low. I wasn’t sure he actually heard me, which would have been fine. I sounded wistful, and that was all kinds of embarrassing. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I don’t know. I mean, it was a homework assignment for me in a way. I wanted to see you in action and get a feel for your style of play. You were on fire that night,” he said with a smile. I was immensely pleased with his admission until he added, “Evan told me you were cool under pressure. Easily one of the best quarterbacks he knows.”

“You talked about me with Evan?”

“Yeah. We weren’t exactly gossiping, but he knows I’m tutoring you.” Rory frowned. “Is that a problem?”

Fuck, yes. I wiped my suddenly damp palms on my jeans and shook my head. “No. Not at all.”

“Well, anyway, I decided it was time to see for myself. I bought a ticket at the gate and ended up sitting next to your fan club. A bunch of girls screaming your name at the top of their lungs. It was brutal. By some freak miracle, I managed to tune them out and concentrate on the game. You specifically.”

“Me specifically?”

“Yes, you’re the guy who controls the action on a football team with a winning record. Our mutual friend claims you’ve got ice water in your veins when a posse of giant defenders comes at you, but I get the guy who flinches at the sight of a math problem.”

“Ha. There are a lot of people like me.”

“Maybe, but you’re the only one that matters to me.”

I knew he didn’t mean it the way it sounded, but that sentiment, paired with his piercing gaze, did something to me.

I shifted on my seat and pursed my lips thoughtfully. “What did you find out?”

“You’re a fucking great quarterback who sucks at math,” he deadpanned.

I threw my head back and laughed. “I’m pretty sure I told you that a few weeks ago.”

“No, you downplayed what you excel at and made it seem like you’re desperate to graduate and get the hell out. Which is kinda interesting. Most people at the top of their game are all about dragging out their glory moment. Not you. Why?”

“I’m a realist. This game is fun and I love it, but I know my limits. My arm is good, and my aim is generally on target. But you have to be exceptional to make it to the pros and unfortunately, a great third-division quarterback doesn’t always make it to the big league.”

“What do you want to do after you graduate?”

“Move. Get a job. Find a place to just…”

“Just what?” Rory prodded.

“Be free,” I said softly.

Rory nodded slowly and observed me for a moment. “I know what you mean. But from what I could tell, you seem free on the field. You’re in a zone when you’re out there calling the shots. You’re relaxed. Shoulders down, eye on the prize, ready for battle. Leader of the offense. You don’t notice the crowd, the opposition, the lights, the fans. You’re completely focused. It seems natural.”

“It is natural. I love football. I hate this stuff.” I thumped my hand on the textbook and glowered.

“That’s okay. Not everyone likes it. And not everyone is a leader. We all have different strengths. The point is, you seem like the kind of guy who has no limits. You can do anything you want and be anything you choose to be. You’re lucky. Once you figure out how to channel that energy, you’re going to be unstoppable.”

I stared at him in surprise. I hadn’t expected that sort of speech on my behalf. Sure, I’d had coaches and teachers tell me I showed promise. But it felt different coming from Rory. It felt as though he saw a part of me that I’d forgotten. Something intrinsic that had nothing to do with my sport or my sexuality.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Just be true to yourself.” He held my gaze, then snapped his fingers and winked. “Oh yeah…and relax. You’re too fuckin’ uptight.”

I burst into laughter. “I am not.”

“Yeah, you are. I get the impression that after football, you spend a lot of time overthinking shit you can’t do anything about. When was the last time you did something for yourself that was just for fun?”

“Um, I don’t know. I might head to LA after my game with Max. He wants to go to a few bars or clubs.”

“What kind of clubs?”

“I don’t know. He likes places where the deejays are the main draw.” I named a few, chuckling when Rory rolled his eyes.

“My brother bartends at one of the new ‘places to be seen.’ I hate that shit, but my drinks are free, so it’s hard to resist. If you end up on the west side, check out Vibes and ask for Justin. He’ll take care of you.”

“Hard to refuse free alcohol. But we might not go to LA at all. There are a few parties here and—”

“You should go,” he insisted.

“Why?”

“It’s like I told you earlier. You need to relax. And I bet you a million bucks it’ll help your math game.”

“I really don’t see how that’s possible.” I chuckled.

“Trust me, grasshopper. I’m smart about this stuff.” Rory tapped his forefinger against his temple. “If you can stand the crappy music, it’s all good.”

“It’s dance music,” I scoffed. “What’s wrong with it?”

Rory made a face. “Everything is electronic. It sounds the same after a while.”

“What kind of music do you like?”

“Classic rock. What about you?” he asked.

“I like everything, but I probably listen to classic rock the most. The Cars, Bon Jovi, Bruce Springsteen.”

“Me too. I love even older stuff, like The Beatles and Stones too. And I have a soft spot for eighties music too. I love The Cure.”

“Same. What’s your favorite Cure song?”

“Boys Don’t Cry,” he replied quickly. “They’re more our parents’ era. My mom loved their music until she found religion and decided to cut out lead singers who wore makeup from her playlist.”

“Her loss.”

Rory smiled. “I think so too. What’s your favorite Cure song?”

“Just Like Heaven.”

“Everyone says that one,” he teased. “Give me another one. What was your…?”

I leaned forward with my elbows on the table and a sappy grin on my face. I could have done this all day and all night long. Just sitting across from Rory, talking about silly things I rarely shared anymore felt significant somehow. Like a new beginning. Like we were both in the same place, wanting to know so much more about each other than our usual ten-minute chat before tutoring allowed.

As thirty minutes bled into an hour and then two, we blocked out the excess noise from our table next to the window and lost ourselves in whimsical conversations that had no rhyme or reason. The most insignificant details seemed so damn interesting. I wanted to know his favorite color, movie, cereal, and TV show. And when he said, “Green, The Godfather, Wheat Chex, and The Office,” I wanted to know why. We analyzed our preferences and debated their merits good-naturedly before moving on to the next topic. I couldn’t get enough. And something in his eyes told me he felt the same way.

Rory’s self-deprecating candor made me laugh. I’d never met anyone so unapologetically in tune with himself. My cheeks hurt from smiling. I probably looked like a lovesick puppy. No doubt he knew I had a crazy crush on him. I wished I were brave enough to come clean and tell him who I was and how I felt. I wasn’t ready for words, but I found myself leaning in more than necessary to be closer to him. When our knees touched under the table and our fingers brushed as we moved our empty cups, we went still and silent.

And that was when I knew words might not matter. He knew I was gay, or maybe bi. He knew I liked him. But he wasn’t asking for anything in return. For now, this was enough.

The game Saturday afternoon wasn’t well attended. The normally crowded stadium was only half-full. There were a few different factors to blame. Our opponents were the lowest ranked team in the league, the weather was unseasonably cool for mid-October, and bigger names were playing at the same time. I was pretty sure UCLA and USC were both in town. But this was the only game that mattered to me.

I called a huddle in the middle of the fourth quarter, glancing toward Perez on the sideline before addressing my teammates.

“We’re gonna run number four. Moreno, box out my blindside. Don’t let anyone through,” I instructed gruffly.

“I got it, boss. They’re a bunch of fuckin’ pansies. My grandma could handle these idiots,” he scoffed.

I shot him an annoyed look, then motioned for everyone to get in position. When the ref blew the whistle, I called the play again and clapped briskly to signal we were ready to begin. I caught the football; then I stepped back into the pocket and scanned the field, looking everywhere at once. My plan was to wait for Gonzalez to run twenty yards before launching it to him. The backup was to hand it off, but I figured we go with that play next and run some time off the clock. The score was twenty-eight to zero. With six minutes left in the game, I wasn’t concerned with adding more points. I just wanted to stay on the field for as long as possible and hopefully win in a shutout. But the second I cocked my right arm back, I sensed trouble. I secured the ball and glanced sideways just as a ginormous defender breached the line and made a mad dash for me. I made a narrow escape and slid out of reach only to get pulled down from behind. I fell hard on my right knee and the lineman who outweighed me by at least fifty pounds toppled like a tree on top of me.

Okay, here’s the thing…football is all about forward momentum. Not every play worked every time, and we all knew it. But this one should have worked. The only reason it didn’t was because a few of my guys were already celebrating this win. So yeah, even though the score didn’t change, I was pissed. And though I knew our head coach would yell at Moreno and whoever else messed up, it was my job to back him up. A quarterback led on and off the field. I was in charge of revving up the team before games and congratulating them for a job well done. If there were issues, I was expected to point them out. And the second we were back in the locker room, I did.

I called a quick powwow, congratulating the guys on our win. Then I showered, changed, and iced my knee before confronting Moreno on his faux pas.

“I’m sorry, man. I thought Jonesie had you.”

I removed the ice bandage wrapped around my knee and left it on the bench before glaring at Moreno. He looked like a sullen child who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But there was an angry edge to his attitude too. I couldn’t tell if he was mad at me or himself, but it didn’t matter.

“Don’t blame anyone else. That was on you. If you can’t handle your position, have your grandma call me. Maybe she can do it better than you,” I scolded, hefting my bag over my shoulder.

My mind whirled as I headed for the parking lot. I picked apart the plays we’d run and thought about how we could have executed them better. I had a slate of Xs and Os in my mind with imaginary red arrows pointing in varying directions. I nodded and waved to a few familiar faces as I dug my keys out, but I didn’t slow down until I reached my car and noticed the large man leaning against the truck parked next to me in the nearly deserted lot.

I stopped in my tracks as Rory straightened to greet me. Warmth seeped through my body, and a huge smile I couldn’t seem to contain spread across my face.

“How’s the knee?” he asked.

“Fine. What are you doing here?”

“I told you I’d be here, remember?”

“Yeah, but…I’m surprised you stayed. It wasn’t a great game,” I said, opening the trunk and tossing my bag inside before sidling between our vehicles and leaning on my Prius.

There wasn’t much wiggle room. I could practically feel his body heat in the confined space. And damn, it felt nice. I crossed my arms and tried to maintain some semblance of cool. It felt strange to see him here…but good.

“At least the stands weren’t crowded. No screaming fans chanting your name in my row. It was mayhem in the next section, though. You’re a rock star here,” he commented with a laugh.

“Ha. I d-don’t know ab-bout that, but—”

“You’re freezing.” He reached out to rub my arms, then dropped his hands quickly and opened the passenger-side door of his truck. “Get in. Just for a second. I won’t keep you. I promise.”

I hesitated for half a second, then obeyed, closing the door just as he opened the driver’s side and climbed in. “Much better,” I sighed. “You aren’t here to quiz me on that test, are you? I haven’t studied at all.”

He turned on the engine and blasted the heat before shifting to look at me. “Nah. Believe it or not, I just wanted to say hi.”

“Hi.” I smiled shyly, marveling at my wild mood swing. I couldn’t remember what I’d been thinking about before I bumped into him.

The lamplight cast a shadow over his profile in the twilight. I could still make out his features, but he looked mysterious somehow. And sexy. Very sexy.

“So what happened out there? One minute you were dancing around the field looking for a target—and the next you were on your knees.” He waggled his eyebrows lasciviously.

I knew he was joking. Inappropriate humor was Rory’s way of dealing with awkward situations, but I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. Sitting next to him in his truck felt oddly intimate. I could almost imagine we were at a cozy table for two at a romantic restaurant. I wanted to stare into his eyes and ask about his day. I wanted to find excuses to touch him while I told him about mine.

I fixated on the hand he’d draped lazily over the steering wheel as I collected my thoughts. Then I launched into a brief summary of what had happened during the play.

“This is what you get when you celebrate a win before the final whistle is blown,” I griped. “I told Moreno to focus, but…whatever. I’ll be fine. I just need some rest and maybe something to eat.”

Rory nodded, then glanced out the rear window. I followed his gaze, noting the empty parking lot. “Do you feel like getting a burger or something?”

“Are you asking me out?” I countered with a half smile.

I expected him to roll his eyes and make a snarky comment about the concept of “dating.” But he didn’t. He went perfectly still and then inclined his head slightly. “Yeah. I think so. Or would that be weird?”

“No. It would be nice.”

“Nice,” he repeated, furrowing his brow. “The thing is, I didn’t really mean it in a nice way.”

“You want to ask me out in a bad way?” I teased.

“Definitely, but the tutor thing might feel strange. Does it?”

“I don’t think so,” I replied carefully.

He held my gaze for a long moment, then pursed his lips. “Okay. Well, where do they have good burgers around here?”

“Rory.”

“Yeah?”

I swallowed hard and gave the same cursory look out the window he had before leaning across the console. Then I grabbed the collar of his denim jacket and crashed my mouth over his. It wasn’t so much a kiss as a frenetic fusion. My heart raced and my skin felt too tight and yet, somehow this felt right. And it only got better when he held my head and pulled back slightly to soften the connection. He bit my bottom lip before deftly pushing his way inside, gliding his tongue alongside mine in a slow, sensuous motion. I groaned aloud and angled my chin to get closer still.

Oxygen was overrated. This was all I needed. The slow tangle of tongues, his fingers in my hair, and the soulful sound of an old Aretha Franklin song in the background. I had no idea how long we made out in the front seat of Rory’s truck. I only knew I could have happily done it all night long. It was crazy, because as much as I wanted this, it didn’t seem possible. In fact, there was a small part of me that was afraid this might be a dream. I wasn’t going to be the one to end it.

Rory finally broke for air and rested his forehead on mine. He sat back and regarded me cautiously as if mentally preparing himself for me to freak out.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” he said in a gravelly tone.

“Actually, I kissed you first,” I reminded him.

He flashed me a wicked grin that made his teeth look impossibly white in the moonlight. “You did, didn’t you?”

We shared a poignant smile I desperately wanted to quantify. I was terrible at measuring gestures of affection though, so it was probably a good thing my cell buzzed just then.

I pulled it from my pocket and glanced at the message. “Shit. I forgot about Max. He’s waiting for me at home.”

I rattled off an unnecessary explanation about my impatient roommate wanting to get on the road to LA as I clandestinely adjusted my erection.

Rory nodded. “You should go.”

“Yeah.” I opened the passenger door and stepped outside. I started to say good-bye, but at the last second, I paused. “What are you doing tonight? I mean, if you’re free, maybe you could go to LA too and…”

“Meet you at the bar?” Rory finished with a wicked grin.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll see you there.”

“Good.” I held his gaze before closing the door and waving good-bye.

He waited like a perfect gentleman for me to get in my car and pull out ahead of him before following me out of the parking lot. I snuck a sideways peek at his truck as he turned onto the main street. Then I set my fingers on my swollen lips in wonder.

Something was happening here. I hadn’t felt this way about a guy in years. Lightheaded, vaguely nauseous, and slightly dopey. I wanted to stare into his eyes and hang on his every word the way I had with Max when we were teenagers. But this was different. Rory and I weren’t kids. We were grown men. And I wanted things now that I didn’t know were possible back then. It was intoxicating to know he felt the same.

For a kid who grew up in a conservative area in Orange County, LA always felt like another planet. It was an hour away by car but light years away in every other respect. And West Hollywood was a whole other universe. It was gay wonderland. Every restaurant, bistro, boutique, bar, and club seemed to sparkle with gay glitter dust. Sometimes literally. Same-sex couples held hands and kissed in public. And drag queens and go-go boys drew as much attention as A-list celebrities.

Typical LA artifice ruled. Everyone was freaking gorgeous and seemingly well-versed in fashion trends and who was in and who was not. The judgy factor intimidated the hell out of me. I hadn’t braved this neighborhood in years. I wasn’t a celebrity quarterback by any means, but Chilton had a decent LGBTQ population for a small school. There was always a chance someone might notice me.

I glanced up at the Vibes neon sign from my place in the long line and bit my lip nervously. I hadn’t thought to ask if this was a gay club. Fuck. I felt so uncomfortable in the electric blue mesh top Max borrowed for me from his boyfriend’s closet.

He’d shaken his head in dismay when I emerged from my room earlier wearing a striped button-down shirt. “You can’t go like that. You look like a preppy dork from the OC.”

“I am a preppy dork from the OC.” I held the wispy piece of fabric up and frowned. “Is this Sky’s?”

“Yeah, but he won’t mind,” Max assured me.

“Bullshit. He’ll gouge my eyes out.”

Max snorted, then inclined his head in agreement. “Okay, well maybe, but he’s out of town visiting his family anyway.”

“Did your invitation get lost?”

“Permanently lost. They don’t like me. Can you believe it?” Max yanked my jacket out of my hands and tossed it over his shoulder. “You don’t need that. What are you gonna do, tie it around your waist on the dance floor?”

“It’s cold outside,” I protested.

“You won’t have time to get cold. You’ll be dancing.”

An hour and a half later, I was freezing my ass off while Max flirted with a pretty-boy dressed in pink in the line outside the club.

“He’s hot,” he whispered as we shuffled forward.

I nodded absently while I scanned messages on my cell. I wondered if Rory was inside. Free drinks or not, I honestly couldn’t picture him here at all. I thought about texting him and suggesting that we meet somewhere else, but then, maybe this was a test of some kind. Yeah, I kissed him, but I hadn’t actually come out to him in real words.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. It was your idea to come here, and I personally think it’s one of your better ones,” Max said, flashing a sultry smile at the cutie behind me.

“I don’t know. It might be a mistake. You have a boyfriend and—”

“And he’s out having fun too. I’m sure he’ll send me a video later of some random dude sucking him off.”

“Ugh. You two are so weird,” I groused, canvasing the sidewalk for familiar-looking faces.

“Maybe, but…you’ve gotta relax, man. No one we know is here. No one recognizes you. You aren’t that important. Just enjoy, Chrissy,” Max advised, pulling me toward the entrance.

“I fucking hate it when you call me that.”

“You fucking love it.”

An hour later, I loved everything and everyone. I was mildly tipsy, but by no means drunk. I figured one of us should stay somewhat sober, so I sipped my second margarita while I scanned the bar area for Rory and tried to figure out which bartender was his brother. The three men manning the bar didn’t look anything like him. One was a sexy pretty-boy who might have been a model, the other was tall and skinny and covered in tats, and the third was Latino with longish brown hair and an edgy urban-cowboy look. Maybe his brother wasn’t working tonight, but I wouldn’t know until I asked. Or until Rory got here. If he was coming.

It was fine either way. The longer I was here, the more I liked it. The electric energy in the club had a life-affirming, liberating vibe. I felt my shoulders relax as I swayed to the music while watching sexy men writhe and kiss or just talk with their hands on each other’s hips. I didn’t feel like an outsider. I belonged here, I mused, setting my glass on the bar.

I flinched when someone wrapped his strong arms around my chest from behind. I bit Max’s forearm and chuckled when he yelped. He scowled, then leaned across me to place his order.

“Want a refill?” he asked.

“No, thanks. Where’s your new friend?”

“Over there.” He inclined his head in the general direction of the dance floor and grinned. “Where’s your friend?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he changed his mind.”

“He’ll be here.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“ ’Cause I bet he’s got as big a crush on you as you have on him. Don’t bother denying it. We wouldn’t be here at all if you didn’t have it bad for your tutor. I can’t wait to be formally introduced.” Max waggled his eyebrows lasciviously before reaching for the kamikaze he’d ordered from the skinny bartender.

“Max…”

He let out a half laugh and rolled his eyes. “I’ll be good. If he doesn’t show up, let’s find someone else for you. How about that guy?”

I discreetly turned to see who he was referring to and shrugged. “He’s cute.”

“Hmm. And he’s staring at you.”

“So?”

“What does ‘so’ mean? Go introduce yourself.” He motioned for me to get moving.

“No, thanks. I’m a bad flirt.”

“That’s true. Oh, my God, I’ll never forget the time you asked that hottie at the frat party what kind of toothpaste he used ’cause his teeth were so white. Classic!” Max threw his head back and laughed at the not-so-distant memory.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to get my ass kicked if he wasn’t like us and…whatever. That was embarrassing.” I swiped his drink from his hand and took a swig.

“He thought it was funny.”

“So did his girlfriend.”

Max snorted. “True, and—oh! That’s gotta be him. You said muscles, tats, and totally hunky, right? He’s talking to the bartender, fist bump, checkin’ out the scenery and…he’s looking this way. Dude, you undersold the tutor. He’s fucking hot.”

I twisted sideways, aware of my suddenly erratic heartbeat as I searched the crowd. I gulped nervously when I spotted him pushing through the crowded bar to reach us. Please don’t say anything stupid. Please don’t pass out.

“Funny running into you here,” Rory drawled.

His eyes glinted with ready humor, crinkling at the corners. Max was right. He looked sexy as hell. He wore a snug army-green T-shirt that hugged his muscular arms and chest, and his jeans fit to perfection. But his appeal went well beyond looks. Rory had a commanding presence; he took up space when he walked into a room. And at a crowded gay club in the heart of La-la land, he probably looked like someone everyone thought they should know.

“Yeah, what are the odds?” I let out a nervous half laugh and quickly introduced him to Max.

I shot a meaningful look that roughly translated to a plea not to say anything embarrassing. Max smirked but gamely exchanged pleasantries over the din of a Lady Gaga mix. When Rory turned back to me, I could have sworn a private cocoon lowered over us, making it seem like we were alone. He was the only one I could see, hear, or smell.

Rory bumped my shoulder playfully. “What are you two drinking? I’ll have Justin get you something.”

I held up the kamikaze in my hand and shook the ice. “This is Max’s but—”

Max hooked his thumb toward the dance floor. “You keep it. I’ll see you out there. Nice to meet you, Rory.” He waved good-bye and stepped away before returning to whisper in my ear. “Have fun. Go home with him. I bet he uses a good toothpaste.”

He kissed my cheek, then disappeared into the throng of gyrating bodies before I could reply. I sipped the kamikaze as I turned to face Rory.

“It feels weird to see you here,” I said lamely.

“I told you I’d come. I’m later than I thought I’d be. Justin needed help moving equipment in my truck. I hope there’s a security guard on duty behind the club. He’s got an expensive amp, a drum set, and five guitars out there. I’m supposed to help him unload after his shift but…I told him I was meeting you first. I have an hour before I have to go. He’s not closing tonight.”

“Which one is Justin?”

“The one with the hippie hair,” Rory replied. “I’ll introduce you later. He looks pretty busy right now.”

I glanced toward the crowded bar and nodded. “Is he in a band?”

“Yeah, sort of. ‘In between bands’ is probably a better way to put it. He broke up with his girlfriend, the lead singer of Gypsy Coma, and then fucked their drummer, who happens to be a guy. She got pissed, threw his stuff out of the studio, and now I’m the U-Haul man.”

“Huh. What are the odds of two brothers being bi?”

“Probably higher than you’d think,” he quipped before giving me a thorough once-over. “You look hot.”

“Thanks. So do you. It seems weird to see you in LA. You belong at that table by the window at Starbucks.”

Rory chuckled low and deep. My fingers itched to trace the creases at the corner of his eyes. “Starbucks?”

“Yeah. Did you ever run into one of your teachers at the market or the movie theater when you were a kid and think something felt out of place? I was at Albertson’s with my mom once, and we ran into Mrs. Joachim in the produce section. So weird. I thought she lived in my third-grade classroom. I had to pretend she was on a field trip to make the pieces fit. It was traumatic.”

Rory’s eyes sparked with a ready humor that set me at ease. “I bet. I don’t want to ruin anything for you, but the only time I ever go to Starbucks is to meet you.”

“Oh.” I took another drink and willed myself not to act like a dweeb. I wanted to stare at his muscles, trace his tattoos. And fuck, I wanted his hands on me.

“You must have been traumatized when we saw each other in the parking lot a few hours ago,” he joked. “No coffee, no stats book…just me.”

“I liked it,” I said lamely.

“Me too. How’s your knee?”

“Fine.”

“Good. Come dance with me.”

Rory plucked my glass from my hands before I could argue. He set it on the bar, then slipped his hand in mine and led me through the mass of sweaty, dancing men. Music vibrated, beating in time with my racing pulse. He found a postage-stamp-sized space on the floor and stopped abruptly. We collided, chest to chest, and stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, and then he began to move.

I tried to lose myself in the rhythm, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything with him so close. My senses were on fire. I wanted to feel him, smell him, touch him, and fuck…I wanted to taste him again. I swayed awkwardly and smiled. Rory returned the gesture and then leaned into to speak just as someone bumped him from behind. He careened against me, setting his hand on my hip to avoid falling over. I took my opportunity and pounced.

I wrapped my hand around his neck and sealed my mouth over his for the second time that day. And damn, he felt even better than before. Strong and safe but warm and inviting. Rory’s hands roamed under my mesh top, up my spine, and then down again to rest on my ass. He pulled me against him as he deepened the kiss and took over. He bit my bottom lip, then licked it before driving his tongue inside. We stood under the haze of strobe lights in the sea of sweaty bodies wrapped around each other, oblivious to anyone else.

Public displays were very out of character for me. On the few occasions I’d hooked up with someone other than Max, we were in dark, secluded spaces. No names exchanged, no emotional currency invested. But I was willing to take a chance with Rory because everything about being in his arms felt right. The slow glide of his tongue, the heat of his body, and his hands on my ass. I wanted so much more. And the boost from the tequila I’d had earlier made me feel brave enough to take it. I yanked his T-shirt up and splayed my left hand on his lower back, then dipped my fingers into his jeans. I didn’t get far with his belt in the way, but I did it over and over until he nuzzled my neck and licked the shell of my ear.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to feel your skin. Should I stop?”

“Fuck, no. Come with me,” Rory commanded, lacing our fingers and leading me off the dance floor.

We serpentined hand in hand through the crowd, passing the restrooms and a series of closed doors, down a darkened hallway. Rory tried the second to last door and shot a wicked grin over his shoulder when it opened. He flipped the switch on the wall, then quickly closed the door behind me and locked it. I squinted in the bright light and tried to get my bearings.

“Is this a broom closet?” I asked, noting the mops, buckets, and shelves of cleaning supplies lining two sides of the tiny space.

“Yeah. And as long as no one has any major spills out there, we’re fine. And we’re alone.” He nipped my bottom lip and backed me against the door.

I groaned into the rough kiss as I reached for his belt. “Good. I want to see you.”

Rory caught my hand on his buckle and shook his head. “Whoa. Not so fast. I have a couple of questions for you first.”

“What? Like a test?” I bit my swollen lip and gave him the ‘What the fuck’ look he deserved. “ ’Cause if you ask me anything about averages or medians, I might pass out.”

“I’ll keep it simple,” he said with a gravelly laugh that moved through me like wildfire. “I’m more curious about how straight you are.”

He stepped between my legs and traced my jawline with a featherlight touch. I gulped. “Not very.”

“Are you bi? A little curious? Or just drunk?”

“No. I’m not drunk at all. I’m…I’m gay.” I sucked in a deep breath, then added, “I thought you knew.”

“I had an idea,” he admitted.

“But no one knows. Only Max and Sky.”

“And now me.”

“Yes, but I’m not out and—”

“Shh.” Rory set his forefinger over my lips and then kissed me softly. “You’re safe with me.”

I believed him. The very notion that there was another person on the planet who knew who I was made me feel infinitely less alone. Gratitude and lust were an odd but powerful combination. And I had just enough alcohol in my system to encourage me to take what I wanted and deal with the consequences later.

I hooked my fingers around his belt loops and pulled him against me, groaning when his rock-hard cock met mine. Even through two layers of denim, that tease of friction was hot as fuck. I wrapped my arms around his neck and crashed my mouth over his. Then like a total ho, I hiked my right leg around his upper thigh and bucked my hips, loving the erotic slide of his erection against mine. We writhed and humped and licked and sucked at each other until oxygen deprivation became a real issue.

Rory pulled back slightly and set his thumb on my bottom lip. “Fuck, I want to do things to you.”

I twirled my tongue around the digit and stroked his length through his tight jeans. “You can do whatever you want. But let me suck you first. Please.”

His eyes glazed over like he was in a sensual fog. He nodded profusely, then leaned in to nip my chin as he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. The second he lowered the fabric, I fell to my knees and freed his rigid pole from his boxer briefs. Talk about beautiful. He was thick and long, and I couldn’t wait to taste him. I glanced up when Rory grabbed a fistful of my hair.

“Go on, baby. Suck me.”

Fuck, yes. I didn’t have to be told twice. I wrapped my fingers around him, stuck my tongue out, and gingerly licked the tip as I fondled his balls. It was just a tease and maybe a chance to get acquainted with his dick before I got to work. I knew I couldn’t do it for long. I wanted him too much. I stroked him with a firm grip, licking him from base to tip and back again with a slight twist of my wrist. Rory voiced his approval in a lusty groan that became a fierce growl when I finally swallowed him whole.

I loved sucking cock. And I was good at it. I just didn’t get the opportunity to show off my skills much. It had been far too long since I’d been with anyone. I was sex-starved and it probably showed in my overeager technique. I sucked his balls, one at a time, then flattened my tongue over them before licking his shaft like a lollipop. Then I sucked him all over again, bobbing my head while he urged me on with nasty dirty talk that would have made me blush if I wasn’t so busy.

At some point, I undid my own jeans, pushed them down, and pulled my throbbing dick out. I had to. The pressure against my zipper was flat-out painful. I hummed in relief as jacked myself and sucked my lover. Rory pushed at my forehead until I released him; then he pulled me to my feet and drove his tongue between my lips as he reached for our cocks. The feel of his calloused hand and his silken skin against mine was almost enough to push me over the edge. He broke the kiss abruptly and licked his middle finger before cupping my right ass cheek. Then he recaptured my mouth and stroked us in unison while he traced my crack. Of course I knew where he was going with this, but I wasn’t really prepared, because when he finally tapped his slick finger against my hole, I fell apart.

I threw my head back and cried out as cum spurted between us, hitting our bare stomachs and running over our fingers. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through me. I was still in a blissed-out state when Rory released me. He rested his forehead against mine and jacked himself furiously.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he whispered in a raspy tone.

He roared, bucking his hips when his orgasm took hold a few seconds later.

I massaged his neck while he trembled, clutching my hips and nuzzling my jaw in the aftermath. The contrasting gestures seemed almost sweet after what we’d just done. I was too spent to analyze, so I gave in and just enjoyed the connection.

Rory pulled back first. He grinned mischievously as he licked our cum from his fingers. Then he reached for my wrist and did the same thing. He traced each digit, pausing to suck my middle finger one last time before cupping my chin and thrusting his tongue in my mouth. The element of sheer carnal nastiness might have been the hottest thing ever. It made me feel reckless. If it was physically possible for either of us, I would have begged him to fuck me against the door. I wanted him inside me, surrounding me and taking me over.

Just as the beginnings of a weird romance danced in my head, Rory stepped backward. He shuffled toward the nearest shelf and tore a couple of pieces from a roll of paper towels. He handed one to me and used the other to clean up before redressing. I averted my gaze as I did the same.

With every passing second, I could feel the tendrils of panic weave through me, reminding me who we were to each other. Student, tutor. Guys who met at Starbucks to talk about statistics. He wasn’t a stranger. I knew Rory. I liked him and respected him. I just didn’t know how to get back to “normal.” Was there a nice way to say “Thanks, see ya next week” to the guy who’d fed me our combined jizz via his incredibly talented tongue? Somehow I doubted it.

I zipped my jeans and buckled my belt, mentally preparing my awkward exit speech.

“So, um…I think it’s my turn to buy on Tuesday. How do you feel about pumpkin spice lattes?”

Rory did a comedic double take, then busted up laughing. “I hate that shit. Thanks for asking, though.”

“Oh. Well—”

He opened his mouth to respond when someone rattled the doorknob. We heard a muffled, “Why is this locked?” and stared at each other with wide eyes. I put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud when an aggravated employee smacked the door and grumbled about finding the fucking key.

“We gotta get out of here,” he whispered conspiratorially. “That was Justin. He’ll know what we were up to in seconds flat. C’mon.”

A wall of sound washed over us the second he opened the door. It got louder and louder as we moved toward the bar area. Rory made a series of hand gestures to ask if I wanted another drink.

“No, thanks.”

“Are you sure? I’m gonna have to go soon and unload all the crap in my truck, but—”

“It’s cool. I’m ready to leave too,” I assured him.

He studied me for a long moment. I was tempted to ask what he saw. I didn’t feel like myself tonight, wearing someone else’s shirt and doing things I rarely did.

“Come meet my brother first, then I’ll walk you out.” Rory pulled me with him as he sidled up to the bar. He greeted the skinny bartender with a head bob and motioned for him to call the Latino hunk with long hair. “Hey, Jus.”

Wow. Looks definitely ran in the family. Although I wouldn’t have guessed they were related. Ever. Justin was leaner than Rory, with shaggy dark-brown hair, olive skin, and hazel eyes. They were roughly the same height and both were liberally tatted, but that was where the similarities ended. I offered my hand as Rory went through a quick round of introductions.

Justin shook my hand politely, then gave a harried nod toward a patron standing behind me. “What can I get you?”

“Nothing, thanks,” I replied.

“All righty. I gotta get back to work before they start climbing over the bar to serve themselves and—”

“This is the quarterback,” Rory intercepted.

Justin stopped abruptly and then cast his gaze between us. “Really?”

“He usually wears clothes that don’t have holes all over ’em but yeah…”

I scowled at Rory and was about to explain that the shirt was borrowed, but Justin didn’t seem to care either way. He grinned wickedly and leaned across the bar. “He has a big-time crush on you. Hasn’t stopped talking about you for weeks. If you need a character reference, call me. My little bro’s a good guy. Too damn smart, that’s for sure, but I can’t hold that against him. Yo…” He turned to Rory. “Do you need my keys?”

“No, I got it. See ya at your place.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Oh, hang on.” Justin snapped his fingers and gave me a conspiratorial look. “Someone oughtta tell you he farts in his sleep. Otherwise, great catch. Oh, wait…he leaves his socks on the…”

He was still talking as Rory pulled at my elbow and navigated us to the exit.

“That was a bad idea,” Rory griped. “All lies, I swear.”

I snickered and pulled my cell out when we stepped onto the sidewalk. I typed a quick message to let Max know I was leaving. Then I stuffed it back into my pocket, and rubbed my bare arms. The fresh air was refreshing, but I wouldn’t think so for long without a jacket.

“My sister’s like that too. It’s all funny until you turn the tables on them,” I said with a laugh.

“Is she older or younger than you?”

“Cara is older. How about Justin?”

“Two years older. Since you’re probably wondering…different dads, same mom. And no, I don’t fart in my sleep,” he scowled.

“How would you know, if you’re asleep?” I deadpanned.

“Ha. Ha.”

I tapped his bicep playfully, then pulled my cell out when it buzzed again. “Max is staying.”

“And you’re going,” he said.

“Yeah, I just ordered a ride and—was today weird? Are we going to be okay when we meet on Tuesday?” I blurted anxiously.

“As long as you don’t buy me pumpkin spice…it’s gonna be fine. Don’t worry.”

I smiled and gave him an impulsive hug. “Thanks.”

Rory kissed my cheek and inched back as a car pulled up to the curb. “There’s your ride.”

He linked his hand in mine and moved to the vehicle. I stared at our joined hands, slightly mystified by the boyfriend treatment, but I liked it too much to pull away.

In fact, I liked everything about him a little too much. His looks, his confidence, his sense of humor. But most of all, I liked the way he made me feel. I wasn’t sure I could define it yet. It was as though he could see things I never showed when I wasn’t on a football field. I gave everything I had in each game, but in everyday life, I avoided confrontation and tiptoed around hard truths. I wouldn’t have walked into that club if I hadn’t thought Rory would come. And I sure as fuck wouldn’t have worn this top.

Maybe the club and the shirt didn’t seem like a big deal, but for a guy who’d been buried in a closet for years, it was huge. Just having him near me, offering subtle encouragement, made me feel powerful. And alive.

“I’ll see you at Starbucks,” I said.

“It’s a date.”

We shared a smile that felt like a beginning. Then I lifted his hand to my lips and kissed his fingers before turning to the waiting car.

It took forever to get to sleep that night. I couldn’t stop thinking about my day, from the parking lot make-out session to the club. If Rory hadn’t had to help his brother, I would have gone home with him or invited him over for sure. No doubt about it. Maybe it was ho-ish, but I didn’t care. I’d already jacked off to the memory of sucking his cock and the way he’d pulled me against him afterward. His fingers in my hair and the feel of his body through the mesh. Fuck. I fell asleep with my hand on my dick, wearing a shirt that didn’t belong to me, just to relive the moment. And while handling my cock was a regular occurrence, I never wore anything except boxer briefs to bed.

I finally started to drift off when I heard a light tap on my bedroom door. Max inched the door open, spilling light from the hallway into my room a second later. I sat up on my elbows and glared at him blearily.

“What are you doing?” I hissed.

“Checking on you. I didn’t know if you went home with your tutor or not, and I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he whispered.

“I’m fine. Why are you whispering?”

“It’s dark. You’re supposed to whisper in the dark.” Max moved into my room and sat on the corner of my mattress before lying beside me. “Since you’re awake, you might as well tell me all about Rory.”

“Shh. G’night, Max.”

He nudged my shoulder. “Did you know you still have Sky’s shirt on?”

My eyes flew open. Oops. “Do I? I don’t care. I’m too tired.”

“Hmm. Me too.” Max didn’t budge, though. He was quiet for a moment; then he said, “The guy I danced with tonight was cute, didn’t you think? He had a weird-ass name. Phoenix. His parents named their kids after the places they were conceived. I think my name would be Tustin. How ’bout you?”

I gave him a blank stare, then slowly closed my eyes. “You like him. Did you get his number?”

“Yeah. I can’t do anything about it, though. Unless Sky is in on it.”

“I don’t get it. Didn’t you say he was going to send you a dick pic earlier? Why can’t you do what you want too?”

“I can. Sort of. I just promised not to this weekend.”

“You guys are weird,” I grumbled for the millionth time.

“Maybe.”

I opened my eyes. “Max, why are you still with him?”

He laid his head on the pillow, but he didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know. Let’s talk about something else. The guy who drove me home played guitar in some band from the eighties. He sang a couple of their hits on the drive back. He actually had a decent voice. We…”

I groaned and rolled over while Max droned on about music that was a decade old when we were born. He did this occasionally when he was in some sort of turmoil. Talking until he couldn’t stand the sound of his own voice was Max’s way of dealing with uncomfortable thoughts. I figured he’d go back to his own bed when he was ready.

Sometime later, I awoke to the sensation of being watched. I thought it might be part of a dream. I didn’t feel any sense of danger; it was more of a creep factor. Or maybe it was Max. I turned to my side and frowned. He’d crawled under the blankets at some point and burrowed close to me. I inched away from him. I was mildly annoyed, but he could stay if he didn’t hog the covers.

I was about to close my eyes again when something clicked. I stared at the shadow in my doorway and then leaned on my elbow.

“Sky?”

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. I recognized his silhouette. He lingered for a half second longer, then closed the door. I rolled my eyes and fluffed my pillow. Those two were ridiculous. I kicked Max.

“Your boyfriend is home. Get outta here,” I grumbled.

“Mmmhmm.”

I rolled over and pulled the covers over my head when he swatted my hand away. Whatever. Not my problem. I didn’t want any part of their drama. I had better things to think about.