The Academy

by Quinn Anderson

  “Right? Between class and our dorm, this year’s going to be a cardio year.” He disposed of his trash, collected his belongings, and with a final wave to Deen, exited the dining hall. But once outside, he hesitated. Gray Eyes floated into his thoughts for the hundredth time.

  Nick glanced to the right, at the overgrown path. Gray Eyes was long gone, of course, but Nick couldn’t stop thinking about the deliberate way he’d looked at Nick, stood up, and then exited without breaking eye contact.

  Did he . . . want me to follow him?

  Nick shook his head. That was ridiculous.

  But was it? Nick was pretty sure he’d seen that exact move in a movie or two. Then again, why would a complete stranger want to signal Nick?

  That’s easy: he wouldn’t. This is wishful thinking. You saw a cute guy, and you want to believe he noticed you too. Stop being weird, and get to class. You can’t afford to be late on your first day.

  Nick turned his back on the path, mentally and physically. To his left lay a cement sidewalk that led to Nassar Hall, and by extension, his class. He stared at it, willing his feet to move, but they remained rooted to the spot.

  As if of their own accord, his eyes drifted over his shoulder. The path Gray Eyes had taken cut through a patch of trees before curving off behind the dining hall. It was impossible to see where it led from here.

  Should I see what’s down there? For curiosity’s sake? It won’t take more than a minute. I have some time to kill before class anyway, and at this rate, I’m going to be distracted if I don’t get some closure.

  His excuse was thin as tissue paper, but he glommed onto it. After another prolonged pause, he turned right and trotted down the path. The trees weren’t thick enough to obscure him from view, but they did give him an odd sense of privacy. Especially as the path wound off to the side, and the main part of campus got left behind.

  After thirty seconds of walking, Nick found himself behind the dining hall. The trees thinned into a clearing with an old, disused picnic table in the center.

  Sure enough, Gray Eyes was sitting on the picnic table, in the precise same pose he’d taken up earlier that day: feet planted on the bench seat.

  As soon as he saw Nick, he smirked again. “Oh, good. You’re as smart as you look.” He stretched one long leg to the ground and stood up. Nick hadn’t realized it before—since one or both of them had been sitting—but Gray Eyes was taller than him. That didn’t happen to Nick often.

  He scrambled to think of something to say. Unfortunately, his heart was beating so loudly, it drowned out all thought. “Um . . . hi?”

  Nice one. Very original.

  Gray Eyes slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans—which looked both new and expensive—and strolled up to him, stopping a few strides away. “I’ve never seen you around before. Are you new?”

  Nick loosened up enough to roll his eyes. “I’ve been getting that all day. Do they make you guys memorize the student roster, or what?”

  Gray Eyes laughed. “You’ve never attended a small school before. I can tell.” He took another few steps forward, bringing them within a foot of each other.

  The air left Nick’s lungs. From this miniscule distance, he could count the freckles on Gray Eyes’s nose.

  Limpid. Nick met his gaze. That was the word I was trying to think of before. He has limpid eyes.

  “You didn’t answer my question.” Gray Eyes lowered his voice to a murmur, as if they were sharing a secret. “You’re new here, right? What’s your name?”

  “Nick Steele. And you are?”

  Gray Eyes studied his face in a manner that was both unnerving and flattering. “Are you a freshman or did you transfer?”

  “Now who’s not answering questions. And why did you bring me here?”

  “Because I wanted to welcome you to the Academy, Nick.”

  Before Nick could react, Gray Eyes reached out and cupped his chin, sweeping a thump across Nick’s bottom lip.

  Nick made a surprised noise. His brain told him to pull away, but his mouth wanted to lean into the soft touch. The very gray eyes Nick had been so focused on latched on to his lip, and for a bleary moment, Nick wondered if this stranger was going to kiss him. Even more confusing was the fact that Nick wanted him to.

  Before Nick could decide what to do, Gray Eyes released him. Nick stumbled, weak in the knees and blinking.

  “Interesting.” Gray Eyes stepped back, eyes trained thoughtfully up at the sky. “You can run away now.”

  Nick didn’t need to be told twice. He turned tail and ran-wobbled away as fast as he could.

  “What’s his name again?”

  “Nick Steele.” Sebastian glanced across the picnic table at Theo, his redheaded friend. “And he’s new here, though I doubt he’s a freshman. He looks like he’s seen some shit in his day. It’s kinda hot.”

  “You worry me,” said Dante. He was fanning himself with a folded copy of the school newspaper, no doubt thanks to the sun beating down on them.

  “Want us to move into the shade?” Sebastian had sweat trickling down his own back, but he ignored it. “We could grab our usual table under that one tree. Now that we’re upperclassmen, I think we have the right to force freshmen to move if they try to sit there.”

  “Nah, I’m all right. I have class in the auditorium in a few minutes. It’s always freezing in there. I’m soaking up the last drops of summer while I still can.”

  Sebastian looked thoughtfully up at the clear blue sky. It’d been sunny for weeks now, but the heat of August was starting to wane, as if it could feel September looming closer and closer. If Sebastian closed his eyes, he could pretend he was back home. His parents’ house was always a little too cold, probably because there was never anyone in it.

  But he wasn’t home. He was gearing up for his third thrilling year at the Academy of Holy Names. If it was anything like last year, he could expect partying, depravity, and utter tedium. The usual.

  The Academy never changed. The groomed lawns and perfect hedges were present and accounted for. The picnic table behind the dining hall hadn’t moved, though there were a few new Sharpie messages graffitied across the surface. And Sebastian was lounging around with his two best and oldest friends. Everything was as it had always been, more or less.

  Theo wound a strand of his vibrant hair around his index finger. “On the subject of the new kid, I’ve already heard some rumors about him. Which seems weird, considering it’s been like half a day.”

  “It was a gossip-light summer.” Sebastian shrugged. “Not much else to talk about. Ashley Marr cheated on Dustin Schwartz for the hundredth time, David Patter got a tattoo on his dick, and Chris Rand got caught smoking weed in the dorms. Again. Nothing exciting ever happens around here. Hence, the new kid gets the spotlight.”

  “If he’s not a freshman, then he’s a transfer,” Dante said. “I heard one of the girls in the registrar’s office talking about someone who transferred ‘under mysterious circumstances,’ quote unquote.”

  Sebastian frowned. “You’re shitting me.”

  “I shit you not, my friend. Word on the street is, Nick got booted from his last school. Think he got caught cheating? Or fighting?”

  “I heard he had sex with a professor.” Theo shrugged. “Though obviously none of the rumors are true. He would have been expelled, and the Academy never would’ve accepted him.”

  “True.” Sebastian stretched his arms above his head. “But that won’t stop everyone from spreading gossip anyway. Good to know we’ve all left our juvenile high school ways behind us. I, for one, am thrilled to be in college, surrounded by adults who never act immature.”

  Dante scoffed. “You sound awfully bitter for someone who’s single-handedly powered the Academy’s rumor mill on more than one occasion.”

  Sebastian didn’t dignify that with a response.

  Theo cut in. “We don’t have to talk about this if you think it’s distasteful. How were your early classes?”


  “Fine.” But Sebastian’s brain currently had one track, and it ran straight to Nick. “You guys saw the way Nick stared at me this morning, right?”

  “So much for changing the subject,” Theo said with a laugh.

  Sebastian ignored him. “That was so not subtle. I wonder if he’s gay or uncouth.”

  “Don’t stereotype people,” Dante admonished. “He could be bi and uncouth.”

  “What about a minute ago? He followed me outside exactly as I thought he would. That’s a pretty clear sign of interest.”

  “What do you care?” Theo raised an eyebrow at him. “You trying to date him?”

  Something twanged in Sebastian’s chest, but he shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t date.”

  “What’d you say to him anyway?” Dante asked. “I saw him run off toward Nassar Hall in a hurry. He looked pale too.”

  “It’s not so much what I said, but what I did.” Sebastian grinned, replaying the memory in his head until he imagined he could still feel the softness of Nick’s bottom lip against the pad of his thumb. “I touched him. And more importantly, he let me.”

  Dante grimaced. “Touched him where?”

  Sebastian glared at him. “His face, you pervert. It was practically innocent.”

  “Why’d you do that?” Theo asked.

  Sebastian considered the question before answering. Honestly, it’d been an impulse, which was strange to admit. He never lost his cool around boys, but the second he’d caught sight of Nick’s uncertain blue eyes, he’d needed to touch him. It was a little alarming.

  Summoning up his best cocky smile, he answered, “Why else? Because I wanted to.”

  “That’s hot,” Dante said, pitching his voice high. “Doesn’t mean he’s interested in you, though. Or interested in men. If some random dude walked up to me and grabbed my face, I’d run for the hills too.”

  “There’s no way he’s straight. That look he gave me this morning had something behind it.”

  “You looked back,” Theo said. “Don’t think that wasn’t obvious.”

  “Guilty.” Sebastian rubbed his chin. “He’s cute, that’s for sure. He has that whole golden-boy thing going on. Haven’t seen one of those since my internship in Cali.” An idea rose to the surface like driftwood. “You know . . . he might be a good candidate for our old bet.”

  Sebastian might have imagined it, but he thought Theo looked stricken for a moment before he blinked catlike green eyes at him. “Seriously? We haven’t dusted off the bet in years.”

  “Yeah, because we’ve known half our peer group since grade school. There hasn’t been a good challenge. The new kid smells like fresh meat to me.” Sebastian leaned forward, excitement building in him. “I think we should do it. First one to get a kiss from the new kid wins.”

  “Might be a little unfair.” Dante shrugged a sculpted shoulder. “I mean, obviously one lingering look does not a romance make, but Blondie did check you out earlier. I’d say that gives you an advantage. The subject of the bet has to initiate the kiss, after all.”

  “Oh, please.” Sebastian scoffed. “So what if he stared at me? Everyone stares at me. Besides, I’m bored. There’s nothing to look forward to this semester. The excitement of freshman year has worn off, we’re not seniors yet, and we won’t be old enough to buy alcohol for—” He screwed up his mouth. “I suck at math. Theo, how far away is your birthday?”

  “Three months and twenty-seven days. Not that I’m counting them or anything.”

  “Nearly four months! Four long, arduous months before one of us can buy liquor for the rest of us. That’s a whole semester still to go before we can stop relying on upperclassmen and fake IDs every time we want to throw a house party. What better to do with our time than revive our old bet? If I remember correctly, the score is tied. We could settle this once and for all.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Dante said. “You’re so bored, you want to toy with the feelings of a complete stranger? Over a bet that barely has stakes? Theo, do you find this as disturbing as I do?”

  Theo shrugged. “I’m more disturbed that he can’t do basic arithmetic.”

  “Hey now.” Sebastian pouted. “My talents are artistic in nature. Bet I can write a better geopolitical analysis of The Goblin Market than you can.”

  Theo grimaced. “Touché.”

  “And besides”—Sebastian turned to Dante—“the bet does so have stakes. We’re competing for permanent ownership of our beloved Barbzilla.”

  Dante groaned like a dying animal. “Why do we still have that thing? It’s a million years old and probably soaked in germs.”

  “I like it.” Theo shrugged. “I’m surprised you don’t.”

  “Yeah, Dante,” Sebastian said. “Where’s your sense of nostalgia? To others it might look like a silly plastic trophy with a Barbie head glued onto it, but it’s part of our childhood.”

  Theo gave Sebastian a dreamy smile. “Plus, I’m currently in possession of it, which makes me the winner.”

  “Not after I take it from you,” Sebastian piped up.

  “Try me, Prinsen.”

  Dante groaned again and let his head thump onto the table.

  “Sounds like Theo is in.” Sebastian clapped his hands together. “That settles it. Nickolas Steele just got one hell of a target painted on his back.”

  “Before you get too excited . . .” Theo hesitated. “Aren’t we a little old for this? I swear, I never should have showed you Cruel Intentions when we were tweens. I created a monster.”

  Sebastian scoffed. “Oh, come on. Our bet isn’t nearly as tacky as the one in that movie. It’s a simple kiss. No one will get hurt.” He paused. “Though for the record, if we were in that movie, I would so be Sarah Michelle Gellar.”

  “Your name is literally Sebastian. Wouldn’t that make you Ryan Phillippe?”

  “Theo, please. It’s obvious I’m Buffy all the way.”

  “Huh.” Theo tapped his chin. “So, does that mean I’m Phillippe?”

  “You wish. You’re Reese Witherspoon, and Dante is—”

  “I swear to God,” Dante interrupted, “if you say Sean Patrick Thomas, I will flip this table.”

  Sebastian sniffed. “I was going to say Selma Blair, only less gullible and with better fashion sense.”

  Dante appeared to mull that over. “Acceptable.”

  “Before we get too ahead of ourselves,” Theo said, “we should find out more about Nick. Specifically, we should confirm if he’s into men. If he’s not, the bet’s off for obvious reasons.”

  “Good point.” Sebastian grinned. “Though after the welcome I gave him, I’m really not concerned.” He shivered a little at the memory alone. When their faces had gotten close . . . Sebastian hadn’t wanted to pull away. Arousal mixed with a note of apprehension blossomed in his viscera. When was the last time he’d reacted to someone like this? Had he ever?

  Dante picked his head up with a sigh. “I think it’s safe to say this year is going to be interesting.”

  Nick did his best to concentrate in class, but half an hour after his strange encounter with Gray Eyes, his heart was still jackhammering in his chest.

  No matter how many times he replayed the memory in his head, he couldn’t convince himself that it’d really happened. A total stranger—who happened to be an attractive guy—had lured him to a secluded spot and . . . and . . .

  Nick didn’t know how to describe it. He’d touched him? That sounded dirtier than what had actually gone down. It had been a uniquely sensual experience, no doubt. Nick didn’t think anyone had ever stopped to touch his lips before. Not like that.

  And then Gray Eyes had dismissed him as easily as a professor might. Nick had been all too happy to scamper away. He’d almost forgotten he had class in his haste to escape. Although, considering he hadn’t heard a word his professor had said, he could have skipped.

  Why had Gray Eyes gotten him alone? Why had he touched him? Was that how people said hello around
here, or what? Nick shook his head to himself. Deen had said the people around here were hedonists, but Nick had assumed that was hyperbole. This was still a Catholic university.

  There was a chance his expectations about this place were all wrong. The idea was as frightening as it was intriguing.

  The professor—a woman in her late twenties who insisted on being called Jessica—turned to the next page in their syllabus. Nick followed suit, along with the other students in the class, before casting his attention out the window. From five floors up, he could see all the way across the lush campus.

  Is Gray Eyes in class right now? Is he thinking about me too?

  The thought made him squirm. Like clockwork, the memory of the touch played again in his head. It seemed to be getting more vivid with every reprise. He could almost feel the heat from Gray Eyes’s skin, the insistent-yet-light press of his thumb. When Gray Eyes had first approached, Nick had gotten a whiff of almond. Maybe his cologne or shampoo. Whatever it was, it had taken up residence in Nick’s nose.

  Nick wasn’t the most experienced when it came to flirting, but he was reasonably sure the stranger had been hitting on him. Why else would he focus on Nick’s lips? Heat swept through Nick. He forced himself to think of something else. Cold showers. Screaming children. The mysterious disappearance of Amelia Earhart.

  As if sensing his plight, someone tapped his shoulder.

  Nick twisted in his seat. The girl behind him still had her hand out, perhaps prepared to tap him again if necessary.

  “Hey,” she said in an undertone. “I’m Angela.”

  Next to her, a boy leaned across the aisle toward them. “And I’m Minho.”

  “Hi.” Nick glanced at the professor before giving a little wave. “I’m Nick. What’s up?”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Angela smiled prettily, and Nick’s heart skipped a beat. “Are you new?”

  “How does everyone— You know what? Never mind.” He blew out a breath. “Yeah, this is my first day. It’s nice to meet you both. If you’re in this class, you must also be physics majors, right?”

  Minho nodded. “Yeah, there’d be no real reason to take Principles of Physics otherwise. We probably have a couple of classes together. Hopefully, we’ll see you around. All the STEM kids tend to run in the same crowd.”