Poster Boy

by Anne Tenino

  “Ha,” Gomer scoffed. “That’s because you don’t pay attention to life’s smaller details.”

  It was an awesome homecoming. Madame B got over greeting Danny, then started haranguing the officers who’d brought them back. It was all in French, but Jock caught a lot about doors, and damage, and someone needing to replace stuff. They bore it pretty well—in fact, they kind of looked bored. They must have heard it a few times before. Finally the DCRI left, and the guys stood around in front of Madame’s house, talking and laughing, everyone kind of delirious with their freedom. It was a beautiful, sunny day, with the bonus that there was only a mild wind, which added to the party atmosphere. Jock kept Toby’s fingers wrapped in his, and every once in a while Toby’d smile at him, or lean over to kiss him quickly. Madame Bouvinet was telling them about the many the things she’d spent all day making for them to eat when they got home. “They cannot have fed you well,” she declared.

  “You cooked without me, cupcake?” Danny pouted.

  “It helped me keep my mind off of what might be happening to you, mon cher. I was so agitated.”

  “Seriously can’t believe that still,” Noah muttered behind Jock.

  “Hey man,” Turbo responded quietly. “Dudes fuck dudes. Why can’t he date someone’s gramma?” He sounded like he was joking around, not needling Noah. Good, maybe they’d get over what had happened.

  Toby squeezed Jock’s hand and smiled, flicking his eyes toward them to indicate he’d overheard Turbo and Noah. Jock tipped his chin and smiled back.

  Madame B raised her voice, addressing them all, but nodding at Toby. “Someone from your institution is here to welcome you as well.”

  Jock’s hackles went up, and Toby swallowed before asking, “Someone informed the college of our, um, adventures?”

  “Oui,” Madame B said. “Not me.” She set her mouth in a flat line. “I believe the DCRI involved them in their investigation.”

  “Shit,” Toby whispered. Jock gripped his hand tighter. Louder, looking around at all the guys, Toby said, “I guess we should find out what he wants and get this over with.”

  “Maybe he really does just want to welcome us home,” Gomer offered as they all set off, walking around the main house to EuroTAG.

  As they got closer, they could see a gray-haired, thin man sitting in a chair on their patio. Jock didn’t know why, but he’d sort of assumed Madame B would let the guy in. But why would she? It was their place, they were paying for it. “I wonder how long he’s been waiting for us?”

  “Hours, I hope,” Toby said. “Whatever he’s here for can’t be good news.”

  The administrator caught sight of them, then, and started speaking before he’d even stood up fully. “Ah, gentlemen, so glad to see you made it back from your, um—”

  “Incarceration?” Noah suggested. Toby reached behind Jock and hit him in the arm.

  “I believe he means to say ‘wrongful incarceration,’” Danny added. The guy looked as if he had been about to say more, but when he turned to Danny, his eyes went wide. Probably because of the way Madame B was plastered all over Danny’s side, arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

  “Guys,” Toby said through clenched teeth. He waited a second, but no one else offered anything. Then Toby stepped forward, pulling Jock along with him. He halted suddenly, shooting Jock an apologetic glance, and let go of him before pushing to the front of the pack, between Gomer and Ricky. “Hi there, Dean Ursine. Toby Moore, we met once a couple of years ago when I was a student here. I’m sure you don’t remember.”

  The dean nodded, shaking the hand Toby offered him. “No, I’m sorry to say I don’t recall meeting you, but we have so many students and they stay for so little time I can’t possibly remember them all.”

  That was it. Jock couldn’t stand him.

  “Yeah, well . . .” Toby tilted his head and half shrugged. “I assume you need to talk to us. Would you like to come inside?”

  “Certainly. Thank you. And yes, I do need to speak to all of you, in light of today’s events.”

  “Great.” He sounded like he was grinding his teeth. Danny and Madame led the way around the house to the back—the front door was boarded up. It looked like it had come out on the losing side of a law enforcement battering ram.

  “What’s he the dean of?” Jock asked, taking ahold of Toby again once he caught up to him.

  “Students.” Toby rolled his eyes. “This could get ugly. I’ll take all the blame.”

  “No, you won’t,” Jock whispered as they started inside. Behind them, Noah and Turbo voiced similar opinions.

  Standing in front of the television with everyone seated in their usual spots—except Madame B, who squeezed onto the long couch with Toby, Jock, and Danny—Dean Ursine started with the good news. “First, I need to inform you that, due to the stress of your recent experiences, we’ve cancelled all your midterms this coming week.”

  “Woot!” Gomer shouted. Some of the guys murmured appreciatively, but Jock could feel the tension in the room. They all knew it was about to go downhill.

  The dean nodded at Gomer, clasping his hands behind his back. “As a matter of fact, we’ve unenrolled you from the sections being taught at the Saint-Rémy satellite campus.”

  “What?” about three guys yelled. Toby put his hand on Jock’s knee, stalling him when he started to sit forward.

  “So what’re we supposed to do for the rest of the term?” Danny asked.

  “Well.” Dean Ursine smiled tightly at them, pacing a couple of steps closer. “You’ll use this week to travel back to the main campus and finish your sections there.”

  The silence lasted for about two seconds, until Noah said, “The main campus is in Oregon.” He hit Gomer with some squinty-eye as he continued. “That’s kind of an important detail, Dean.”

  Gomer was oblivious to Noah’s diss. “What, you mean we have to leave? You’re kicking us out?”

  The dude held up his hands. “Not precisely. You have the option of dropping out and staying here for the rest of your term, but not under the aegis of the college. We’re simply reassigning your classes to a different campus, where you’ll have to relocate to if you wish to continue.”

  “In Oregon,” Danny said quietly. Next to him, Madame let out a small, hurt noise.

  “Yes, well, under the circumstances, the college felt it was better for you all. I’m sure you don’t want to remind the authorities of your . . .”

  “Antics?” Noah suggested. Toby didn’t try to hit him this time. “They dropped all the charges. It’s not like they’re kicking us out of the country.”

  The dean’s lips were stretching thin, trying to hang on to his polite smile. “We’re not ‘kicking you out,’ per se, so much as encouraging you to leave.”

  “Don’t punish them,” Toby said. “Dean Ursine, I’m the one at fault here. As resident advisor—”

  “It’s not your fault.” Jock clamped down on Toby’s hand where it still rested on his knee, stopping him from getting up this time. “We’re all adults.” Legally.

  “Yeah, Tobes,” Danny jumped in. “Besides, you had other things on your mind.”

  “No, really guys. You all came to me when you needed stuff from me, but I didn’t make the effort to actively reach out to you—”

  “Yes you did!” Ricky shot up, lip going pouty. “What about all those weekends when you took us places because our hack of a history professor was too lazy to do it?”

  Toby blanched. “Um, I’m not sure I’d call him lazy, exact—”

  “Yeah.” Gomer stood too. “And when you took us all to the emergency room when Julian tried to pick up that chick with fondue and then Noah choked on a croissant and I got a concussion?”

  “It was a possible concussion,” Toby said, addressing the dean.

  “Plus, you made sure we had unique experiences,” Jules piped up. “Like taking us to our first French tavern, and when we parked on the side of the road and someone broke into the van
and stole all our beer.”

  “And your art supplies,” Toby blurted. “Don’t forget your art supplies. It’s not as if we only used the van to transport alcohol.”

  “And dude,” Danny said, some note in his voice drawing the attention of everyone in the room. He picked up Madame’s hand, staring into her eyes as he kissed the back of it. “You totally encouraged me to go after the woman I love.”

  “Yeah,” Toby sighed. “I did do that, didn’t I?” When Jock caught his eye, he smiled faintly. Jock twined their fingers together.

  The dean cleared his throat, reminding everyone he was in the room. The dude had gone shifty-eyed, gaze pinging from Jock’s hand engulfing Toby’s, to Jock’s face, then to Toby. “Um, I hope I’m reading this wrong, but Mr. Moore, are you involved with one of your advisees?”

  “Yes,” Jock announced, sitting forward and fixing the dude with his most intimidating frown.

  “Well . . . yes.” Toby said at the same time, squeezing Jock’s hand.

  Dean Ursine took a deep breath, rising up on his tiptoes before planting his heels on the floor again. “I see.”

  “Is that going to be some kinda problem?” Jock asked.

  Dean Ursine tilted his head to one side, then the other—one of those motions between a nod and a shake, a well no, but yes sort of gesture. “He is in a position of power over you.”

  The room was filled with the collective snort of all the guys.

  The dean licked his lip. “It’s frowned upon for resident advisors to have romantic relationships with their advisees.”

  “Heh,” Noah scoffed. “When I was a freshman, I was doing the RA at my dorm and everyone knew—and I mean everyone. No one ever said shit to us.”

  A vein fluttered in the Dean’s temple. “Well, it’s not specified in the rules, exactly, yet—”

  “Was your RA a guy or a girl?” Turbo asked Noah.

  Noah squinted at the dean. “A girl. Maybe that’s why no one cared.”

  Turbo stood slowly, stare never wavering as he jerked his head to the side and loudly cracked his neck. Half the room winced, including the dean. “Whaddya think, guys, is this dude a homophobe? Is that his issue?”

  “Okay, wait.” Toby stood up. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s not necessary.”

  “Uh, yeah.” Danny nodded his head vigorously, then stood also. “I think it is necessary. If this so-called administrator is engaging in discriminatory behavior, it’s necessary for me to know before I file my complaint.” He crossed his arms over his chest, sidestepping until he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Noah and Turbo. “So, mister dean person, how do you feel about the LGBT community?”

  Madame got up and walked over to him, looking down her nose at the enemy.

  “Oh no,” Toby muttered.

  Jock rose to his feet slowly, consciously using his size to fill the room—it was all in the attitude. “Chill, guys.” He may have been talking to the bros, but he was watching the dean. “We don’t want to cause any problems for anyone. Not unless it’s warranted. And I don’t think that’s the case here, is it? We’ll all go home to save the college from any further ‘embarrassment’ . . .” He waited for any objections, but there were none. “And mister dean person will accept that and leave, saving himself from any further ‘embarrassment.’”

  “Works for me,” Dean Ursine called, halfway to the exit. “Thanks for being so—”

  Whatever he was grateful for was cut off by the slamming door.

  “I really could have gotten in trouble for being with you,” Toby said on their way out to the cabanon after a huge dinner at Madame’s house. She’d gone all out and made bouillabaisse. “It doesn’t matter that Noah’s RA was a girl. It’s like when your coach kicked you off the team because you’re gay, but he had grounds because you were drinking. Dean Ursine has grounds to make problems for me because I am in a position of power. Not much power, but still.”

  “I know,” Jock said. That was all he said. It took Toby a minute of silent walking through the night before he figured it out. Jock was worried about their upcoming talk. Toby couldn’t claim to be calm about it, but he’d managed to forget for a while over dinner. Jock probably had a plan for what he wanted to say, and Toby should probably let him do it his way, but . . .

  He yanked his boyfriend to a standstill, just before the yard light from the pool deck spilled onto the path they were on. The moon was full tonight, and if Toby looked downhill he’d see row after row of grapevines shining blue and silver, marching down the hill. But he didn’t; he focused on Jock.

  He’s still my boyfriend. It was amazing how good that felt, to know that. He’d thought he’d be able to let go of Jock if things didn’t work out, but standing here, feeling Jock’s fingers smooth down his neck as he gave Toby a questioning look, he couldn’t say that with certainty. If Jock really did think of Toby as lesser than him because he let Jock fuck him, would he be able to accept that?

  No. “We don’t have to talk tonight if you don’t want.” Buying ourselves a little time, are we?

  “Don’t you think we should? I mean, what I said last night was kinda harsh.” Jock’s fingers dug into Toby’s shoulder as he turned away a second, toward the grapes. Toby had a feeling he wasn’t enjoying the view. Or even seeing it.

  He touched Jock’s face, and instantly all attention returned to him. “What do you want to tell me?”

  Jock’s mouth turned down. “Nothing, I just want to . . .” He swallowed. “I want to do this.”

  Toby attributed his confusion to the amount of wine he’d had. He’d had a pleasant buzz before, but now he had a disorienting light-headedness that was making it hard for him to follow what Jock wanted to do.

  It. He wanted to do it. “So instead of talking, you want fucking?”

  Jock swallowed, ducking his head.

  “I don’t want to fuck you.”

  Jock jerked back upright, staring at Toby, mouth hanging open.

  “I don’t want to fuck you to somehow make things even between us.” He cupped Jock’s face between his hands, holding on tightly so Jock had to look right into his eyes. “Last night, the thing I said that started all this was that I wanted to make love to you. Me topping you to make things equal would be the opposite of that. It would take all the love out of the act and make it only about sex. I don’t want that.”

  Jock drew in a deep breath. “I don’t want that either.”

  “It probably doesn’t seem like it right now, but you have something that a lot of guys throw away because they just want to get it over with. You have the opportunity to do it right. Your first time should be special. If not with me, then with someone else.”

  “With you,” Jock corrected.

  “That’s how I’d like it to be. Maybe, if we did it right your first time, it would make up for my first time.”

  “Your first time was that bad?”

  Oh God, should he say the first thing that popped into his head? He shouldn’t, because it was incredibly sappy, but standing here in the French moonlight, overlooking a French vineyard, about to go get naked in a French cabanon with his (American) boyfriend? France is for lovers, after all. “My biggest regret is that my first time wasn’t with you.”

  Jock nearly swallowed him into a kiss, taking his whole mouth at once and cupping the back of his skull to hold him steady. A replay of the kiss in the police station, but better because it was in the moonlight and there were no frat boys watching. “Let’s go to bed,” Jock said as he pulled away, both of them breathing heavily.

  Toby resisted when his boyfriend took his hand and tried to get them going toward the cabin. “Wait, we still need to talk.”

  “Can’t we do it later?” Jock asked. “Like, after we . . . do that thing you said?”

  “Make love.”

  Jock nodded, stepping close again and tunneling his fingers in Toby’s hair. “Make love.”

  “We need to talk about one thing first. I know you might
think you can do this tonight, bottom, but I want to wait. Is that okay?”

  The relief that flashed through Jock’s eyes told Toby he’d been right about him not really being ready for this. “That’s all right.”

  He probably wasn’t going to be as relieved about the next thing Toby was going to say. “And, I think maybe we need to put a moratorium on fucking altogether for a while.”

  Jock nodded slowly. “Like starting over, kinda. Reboot.”

  “That’s it exactly.”

  Jock pulled Toby through the door of the cabin, ignoring where the police had splintered the jamb, and led him to the bed—which Madame B must have made. Everything was tucked in and the pillows were plumped and the coverlet had been smoothed out. It looked almost virginal.

  Jock sat down on it, nudging Toby until he stood in front of him. Then he consciously gave up control. Lying back on the bed and spreading his arms. Toby smiled at him, then toed off his shoes before kneeling to remove Jock’s.

  When Toby’d said, “I don’t want to fuck you to somehow make things even between us,” the load of apprehension and anxiety that Jock had been carrying around since this morning just fell away. He’d almost thought he could hear it hit the ground. Then Toby’d said all that other stuff that was almost too embarrassing—too precious—to remember, and it had filled up the raw spaces inside him left exposed, like that expanding foam or something. Or caulk. Toby’d caulked up his heart.

  Watching Toby undress in front of him, it became clear that giving up control was just like choosing to start this relationship in the first place. He’d never not be scared to do it. And when Toby climbed onto the bed, beginning on Jock’s clothes, it hit him that he’d never stop trying to take control. Toby massaged Jock’s dick through the denim while opening each button on his fly separately, and as every extra centimeter of freedom eased the constriction of his jeans, Jock had to physically hold himself back from just ripping his pants open. He could shuck them and his briefs in seconds, then roll Toby over onto his back and . . .

  “Pretend your arms are glued to the bed,” Toby whispered before kissing Jock’s now-exposed abdomen, tongue swirling into his belly button. “If you’re a compliant boy now, you can do whatever you want to me later.”