CHAPTER Nineteen
The tailgate packed up shortly after kickoff. All that anticipation and excitement for an event that nobody cared about seeing. Ethan chugged a large glass of water after his impromptu conversation with Greg. He needed his brain to be in tip-top shape now. He needed to think.
Was Lorna right? She seemed like a girl who knew what she was talking about when it came to guys.
“Are you sure?” he asked her later as they walked back to the dorm.
“Oh yeah.”
Ethan had tried to balance her when they first left the tailgate—contrary to what she believed, Lorna could not hold her liquor—yet she was strolling alongside him by this point.
“But he pulled his knee away when I touched it.”
“That’s because you were in public. Right by his fraternity. In a football stadium parking lot. Hetero Central. He couldn’t make a move.”
She had a point. Ethan did not pick an opportune place to touch the knee of a closeted frat boy. “Couldn’t he have winked at me? Just so I knew that he knew we were on the same page.”
“Because a wink would’ve been that much subtler.” She gave him a wink, just to demonstrate its inherent shadiness.
Ethan held the front door open for Lorna, and she curtsied.
“So what do I do now?”
“Give him time.” They stopped by the mailboxes. Nothing for Ethan, but Lorna received a thick fashion magazine. “You made your move. He knows you’re interested. If he’s interested back, he’ll make his.”
“If? This morning you said the feeling was mutual. Was that the booze talking?”
“No, mom. Things are a little complicated. He may like you but refuse to do anything about it.” Lorna shut her mailbox, and it echoed inside Ethan. A definitive shut out. “You’re out. You’re you. Greg isn’t there yet.”
Ethan leaned against the wall of mailboxes as the fear sunk in that he might never be. “We’ve never kissed,” he said. “We’ve done lots of other stuff, and he wants to do even more stuff, but we’ve never kissed.”
Hearing him say it aloud crumpled a part of Ethan. That must have been an answer, just not one he wanted.
“Don’t worry. It’ll happen,” Lorna said, faltering with her pep talk.
“You don’t sound certain.”
“I’m not. I’m hopeful.”
Ethan acted as spotter for Lorna as they climbed the stairs. He himself wobbled up the steps, gripping onto the banisters to propel himself. A buzz lingered in his system, but mostly he was tired. It was only noon, but he felt like he had lived an entire day already.
He expected Lorna’s room to be empty. He expected his friends—no air-quotes needed—to be on some excursion around Duncannon. Instead, he and Lorna stumbled into her room and interrupted a study session between Jessica and Preston. Ethan made sure to guide Lorna directly to her bed.
“I can take it from here.” Lorna eschewed all drunkenness as she hopped onto her top bunk. Ethan figured she’d probably gotten up there under worse conditions.
“Are you good?” he asked her. She nodded wildly and laid down to rest. That meant he had to face Jessica.
“Hey,” Jessica said. Her expression quickly went south as she sized him up. His hair was messed up, a beer stain ran down his lime-green T-shirt, and he was pretty sure that “Go Whitetails!” had been painted on his face at some point.
“Hi.” Ethan leaned against the bunk bed. He could almost hear the thoughts Jessica and Preston were sending each other. He wished Lorna were still awake.
“Ethan’s got spirit!” Preston called out, scratching at his day-old scruff. He seemed to get a kick out of him, and Ethan felt himself blush for a second.
“I went to the tailgate. Lorna invited me. Did you know most students go to the tailgate, but not the game?”
“Interesting,” Preston said with an exaggerated nod. Ethan wondered what they would all say about him later. It might be the only time when he was the topic of conversation.
“I was wondering where you were,” Jessica said. “I knocked on your door before we went to breakfast.”
“You should’ve texted.” Like with the movies. Or not. Ethan’s breath caught in his chest.
Jessica’s face pinched into a pinpoint. “I can smell the beer on you.”
“We played flip cup. It was fun.”
“How’d you do?” Preston asked, and it sounded like he actually wanted to know.
“I did really well. My team only won twice, but I feel like in that game, there are no losers.”
Preston chuckled at that. Little did he know that quiet Ethan Follett was a tailgating, flip-cupping, sixty-nine-ing co-ed. Ethan was too scared to look in Jessica’s direction, but when he did, her reaction sucked the air out of every room in the dorm. He’d seen her upset before—she was a very passionate debater—but never had that look been focused on him.
“Well, I wanted to make sure Lorna got back safely. And she did! So my work here is done.”
Ethan gave them a salute before leaving, which he instantly regretted, then later realized was sort of a cool sendoff.
Φ
Ethan treated himself to a lazy Saturday. The exhaustion was a force greater than gravity on his bones. Drinking took a lot out of him, and he’d only sat down to talk to Greg in the tent. Lying down on his bed felt sooooo good, and he didn’t want to get out. He spent the sunny afternoon watching movies on his computer and sleeping.
Ethan had a fantastic nap that lasted three hours. He woke up in time for dinner and cried tears of joy when he saw the dining hall was serving chimichangas. He’d never been this hungry. Then he realized that he’d eaten nothing solid that day.
He walked back to his room. He hadn’t received any text messages from Jessica and wondered where he stood with her. She seemed like someone who could cut you out of her life in a heartbeat. Lorna was with her sisters tonight, so that left Ethan watching another movie. Despite what Greg said, he couldn’t give his friends up, not when his social life was perpetually on the verge of nonexistence.
Ethan fell asleep again during the movie. He didn’t know what time it was when he woke up. Or rather, when he was woken back up by his phone.
He had a text. From Greg.
What are you up to? Having a fun Saturday night?
Ethan pored over every letter of every word multiple times as warmth zipped through him. He checked the time. 11:46. Greg texted him on a Saturday night!
What am I going to write back? His response had to be pithy and flirty and fun, three things at which Ethan sucked.
He needed backup. He texted Lorna:
Help! Greg sent me a flirty text message. What do I say back?
He paced around his room. Maybe he should tell Greg he was recuperating. Or say that he was at a party. Or be mysterious. His phone rang, and he jumped.
“You called!”
“Yes! This is big,” Lorna said. He heard some faint noise in the background.
“Where are you?”
“I’m watching a movie at the house.”
Ethan felt better that he wasn’t the only person watching a movie on a Saturday night. “What do I write back?”
“What were you thinking?” she asked.
“Maybe, ‘Yeah. Having fun relaxing. How about you?’ How’s that?”
“That’s terrible,” she deadpanned.
“Should I say I’m at a party?”
“Say that you’re leaving a party. Let him know that you were social, but will now be by yourself.”
Ethan jumped onto his bed and bounced back and forth. He had built-up energy desperate to get out. “So I’ll write, ‘Just leaving a party. Can’t wait to crash. What a day!’”
“No. That’ll make him think that you’re going to bed and don’t want to be interrupted. Leave it at, ‘Leaving a friend’s party. Heading back to my dorm.’ It’s open-ended, and his response will tell you what he’s thinking.”
So Ethan texted her suggestion verbatim. He hid his phone under his pillow and walked a lap through his dorm, traversing every suite and the first-floor lounge. He had to keep his mind off his phone as best he could.
He checked the time on the clock in the lobby. Eight minutes had passed. Was that enough time to wait for a response? Ethan didn’t know the protocol. He dreaded returning to his room to find no response, but that got outweighed by the potential of a text from Greg waiting for him!
Ethan galloped up the stairs as fast as he could, but still taking way too long. He held out hope. Hope that Greg wanted to see him. Hope that Greg was horny enough to respond immediately.
He yanked open the door to the stairwell, plowed into the hall, and almost bumped into Jessica knocking on his door.
“Hey.” She seemed more pleasant than this afternoon, but a pall was still cast over her eyes. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
You mean do I still smell like beer?
“I’m good. I don’t need a PB&J.” Ethan placed his hand on the doorknob. He wanted to turn it and check his phone. If he were better at math, he would calculate the odds of a message waiting for him.
Jessica blocked his entry. “Listen, I know tailgating and parties seem fun, but they’re empty entertainment. They’re just filled with lemmings getting other lemmings to drink as much as possible. Getting wasted shouldn’t be the end-all, be-all of college.”
Ethan crossed his arms across his chest. “Yes, I got a little drunk at the tailgate, but I had a good time. I met some cool people. I don’t see the problem.”
He thought he heard a dull buzz coming from his room. His phone vibrating with a text from Greg? So close, yet so far.
“You know Preston and Blake met playing beer pong at that LGBT party, right? Did you also give them this talk?”
Jessica shook her head. Her body clenched, like she wanted to say more but held back, which was so unlike her. Jessica never missed an opportunity to get her point across.
“Ethan, this isn’t you.”
“How would you know?”
He reached behind her and opened his door. He didn’t want to close it in her face, and fortunately, she was gone before it came to that. A chill zapped through Ethan. He wasn’t one for friend drama. He had always played the good guy and never tried to rock the boat. But a smile drifted onto his lips this time. Jessica made it seem like Lorna and Sahil were the scourge of society. If only she’d been at that tailgate today, she would realize how fun and friendly everyone was and—
GREG TEXTED BACK.
Ethan gripped his phone so hard he almost dented the sides.
I’m nearby. Up for some late night hanging out? ;)
Ethan spun around his room. He stood on his chair and leapt onto his bed. He’d never been this happy. But his joy faded when he reread the message.
He remembered their code. Greg didn’t want to hang out. He wanted to “hang out,” i.e. hook up. Ethan thought they’d made a connection at the tailgate and the concert hall. Greg had told him about his frat brother, about his dad. Ethan had revealed his high school past. He thought they had crossed a threshold. He was wrong. They were friends with an arrangement, and nothing more.
Sure. Buzz me when you’re downstairs.
Little did Greg know that he did a different idea in store.
Φ
“Hey stranger.”
Greg waited outside for Ethan. He had on a yellow polo that popped against his tanned skin. Ethan did a mini-swoon when he saw him not in sweats. This was practically formalwear for Greg Sanderson. Ethan opened the front door, but Greg didn’t budge.
“Come with me.” Greg nodded behind him. They walked around the dorm to a wall next to the stairwell exit that was partially hidden by a pine tree. Greg put his hands on Ethan’s hips. No kiss, of course.
“Still recovering from this morning?” he asked Ethan. Beer lacquered his breath.
“It was funny running into you,” Ethan said, wondering if Greg would press the issue. But he also knew that wasn’t Greg’s style.
“Yeah. I’m glad you came out. You need some excitement in your life. Well, excitement that doesn’t involve jerking off strange men in the library stacks.” Greg laughed; Ethan humored him with a smile.
“It was a good time.”
“You seemed like you were having a blast. I had to do a double-take to make sure it was you playing flip cup.” Greg went into a brief daze remembering the moment. “You were so into it. Totally free.”
And then moments like that made Ethan mushy all over again, when Greg showed that he cared. Ethan’s heart beat for Greg; he wished it didn’t, but it did.
Greg rubbed his hands over Ethan’s chest, then farther south. “Uh-oh.”
“Sorry,” Ethan said half-heartedly.
“You’re gonna make me work for it, huh?” Greg took Ethan’s hand and placed it over his own bulging erection. This was when Ethan should’ve pulled away, told him that he wasn’t Greg’s whore anymore. But he couldn’t slam that door.
“Is something wrong?”
Ethan shook his head.
“You sure? We don’t have to.”
“I’m fine.”
Ethan tried his best to get into the moment. He and Greg looked into each other’s eyes. Moonlight glowed behind Greg’s chiseled jawline, and he exhaled a pleasurable sigh. Ethan felt so close, yet so far. He had pangs of desire and nerves rumble through him, but this time it wasn’t an orgasm. It was something deeper, more terrifying.
And then he couldn’t stop himself. Ethan leaned forward and kissed Greg right on the lips. Adrenaline surged through him, like he’d punched through a window. Another wave of energy inundated him when he realized that Greg wasn’t pulling away.
Greg kissed him back.
Harder.
His soft, warm lips pressed against Ethan’s. His tongue pried open Ethan’s teeth and slid into his mouth. Ethan stood at full attention now, ready to poke a hole in his pants. His body was a unit of solidarity living in this moment.
Greg’s hands went to Ethan’s neck, and Ethan’s hands circled Greg’s waist. Body heat radiated through his core. He was afraid to pull away, afraid of what happened next. But it finally happened. They had to come up for air.
Neither of them said anything. They just smiled at each other.
Greg leaned against the tree. His mind seemed to be reeling with its own million-mile thoughts. Ethan kept silent. He didn’t want to ruin the moment. He didn’t even know what the moment was.
He ran his fingers through Greg’s hair. He’d always wanted to do that.
They looked at each other once again. Ethan didn’t want to break this perfect silence.
And then, for possibly the first time ever, Greg Sanderson blushed. “Well then.”