by Roni Loren
Everything had. All in one spring.
And nothing had been the same since.
Chapter 4
College—4 Years Earlier
Color was high on Hunter’s cheeks as he ran full tilt next to Devon. “Come on, dude. We’ve gotta move. If we get caught, it’ll ruin the whole thing.”
“I’m trying. I don’t run sprints for a goddamned living like you do.” Devon pumped his legs, trying to keep up with Hunter’s practiced strides, and peered over his shoulder to make sure no one was behind them. Two other guys from their frat were a few steps ahead, so he didn’t want to be the jerk who got them caught, especially not when the mission had been a success.
The four of them had managed to sneak inside a rival frat’s house and had buttered the common room floor while all the guys were sleeping upstairs. Then they’d set off the fire alarm. They hadn’t been able to stay to watch the chaos, but the sound of asses hitting the floor as the guys rushed downstairs and slipped on the butter had Devon huffing laughs as he and Hunter booked it back to their house. Hopefully they’d be able to send another guy in sometime tomorrow to retrieve the webcam they’d hidden to catch the fallout. But the pictures in his mind were already worth the effort.
As was having his best friend running next to him with that big-ass grin on his face. Devon had worried that his idea to join a frat last year had been one of his most idiotic moves ever. It’d been a whim when he was feeling particularly crusader-like after a hate crime on campus last year. Some guys from another fraternity had terrorized a gay freshman after a football game, and Devon had wanted to make a statement. Sigma Alpha Xi hadn’t been able to turn Devon down because of all the bad press the frats were getting, but he’d sensed their complete discomfort with the idea of having him live in the house. It’d taken everything he had not to bail, but then Hunter Riley had walked in and changed everything.
When the college baseball star, the best-liked guy of the group, had offered to room with Devon and had accepted who he was without a hint of discomfort, everything had changed. Devon had become one of them. Never before had he felt so a part of something with other guys. There was this camaraderie he’d never known he was missing before then. Straight guys had always kept him at arm’s length—like he was some bomb that might detonate and get gayness on them or something. So ridiculous. But here, Hunter had ushered him in as a brother and somehow had created a safe zone where all that mattered was if you were a good dude or not. Who you slept with was your own business.
Too bad Devon had to fight daily to see Hunter as just a brother.
“Shit.” Hunter grabbed Devon’s arm and yanked him off the path into the nearby trees. “This way.”
“Fuck.” Devon almost lost his footing at the sudden change in direction and crashed into Hunter as the trees closed around them, branches slapping at them as they went. “A little warning, man.”
Hunter got an arm around Devon before he could fall on his ass and then dragged both of them down to the ground and onto their bellies. “Shut up, I heard Kappas.”
Devon’s body hit the ground, dry leaves crunching beneath his elbows, and his side pressed against Hunter. His labored breaths sent steam curling in front of him in the frigid air.
“Stop breathing so hard.” Hunter nudged him with his shoulder. “They’ll see us.”
“How the hell am I supposed to stop breathing?” Devon worked to slow his heavy breaths, annoyed that Hunter didn’t seem exerted at all from the run. “Freaking jocks.”
“Shh.”
Devon peered out between the trees, the darkness almost absolute with the moonless night, but his breaths continued to send out telltale clouds. He scooted over and pressed his mouth to the back of Hunter’s shoulder to block some of the air. Hunter didn’t flinch. Instead he lay stock-still like he was a sniper ready to take out a target. But no one appeared in their view and after a few seconds, Hunter’s shoulders relaxed.
Devon’s nose was buried in Hunter’s sweatshirt, and he took a deep inhale. “Damn, you smell like really good bread.”
He snorted. “It’s the butter. It’s all over me. I bet I’d taste pretty good right now, too.”
Taste. There was a vision Devon didn’t need. Licking butter off Hunter’s body. “Stop flirting, big man.”
Hunter chuckled.
It was an old exchange. Part of their friendship was this ease with harmless teasing. Most of the guys in the frat had gotten into a similar habit with Devon around. Silly teasing disarmed the perceived threat. Look, I can smack this guy on the ass or let him tell me how hot I look, and I’m totally cool with it. I’m not gay. He’s not really into me. We’re all just one big, secure brotherhood. And with the other guys, it was all in fun for Devon. It was nice to be that open and comfortable somewhere. But lately when it came to Hunter, it was getting harder and harder for Devon to not let his mind really go there. Sometimes Hunter said something or looked at him a certain way that sent all these switches flipping inside him.
And though Hunter was straight, they’d crossed lines over the past year that Devon knew weren’t typical. They discussed their sex lives openly—something he was damn sure none of the other guys in the house wanted to hear about. Hunter asked a lot of questions, and though he looked surprised or apprehensive sometimes over the things Devon described, he never looked disgusted. Part of it was Hunter’s curious mind. The guy liked knowing how things worked. He was the one who took apart things and fixed them in the house. And that seemed to apply to Devon’s orientation, too. Hunter had been told such bullshit growing up that he seemed to want to unpack this thing called sexuality and figure it out.
But he did the same thing with Ahmed, another frat brother, when it came to religion. The guy was just hungry for a bigger perspective than the one he got growing up. That’s why Devon tried not to read too much into it. The last thing he wanted to do was fuck up the best friendship he’d ever had with something as stupid as lust.
Footsteps sounded on the pavement, and flashlights broke through the dark. Two guys in bare feet and Kappa sweatshirts jogged into view, the beams of their flashlights hacking through the night air with a haphazard pattern.
“Where the fuck did they go?” one of the guys asked.
“I don’t know. Did you see what house they were headed toward?” the other asked. “God-fucking-dammit, I think I cut my foot. I’m going to kill those shitheads.”
“I bet it was the Thetas. We got them pretty good last month.”
Hunter snickered under his breath. “Sure, sweetheart, the uninventive Thetas just got your ass greased. Sure they did.”
“I once had a Theta grease my ass,” Devon said against Hunter’s shoulder. “He wasn’t lacking in creativity.”
Hunter scowled. “Ugh. I can’t believe you fucked a Theta. Have some standards, man.”
“I’m kidding. The Thetas wouldn’t be cool enough to have a gay in their ranks. Though one of those douchebags kindly offered to let me blow him at a party last year—like he was doing me some fucking favor.”
“Hope you punched him in the throat.”
“I let him take his pants off and then tied his wrists to the bed and left him there for his roommate to find him. Did I mention the room was really cold?”
Hunter’s shoulders shook in silent laughter. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
“Don’t worry, babe,” he said, putting a teasing lilt in his voice. “I know you’d ask nicely if you wanted me to blow you.”
“Want to do it now? These fuckers are boring me.”
“Sure, unbutton your jeans.”
Neither of them moved because they both knew it was a joke—even if Devon secretly wished it weren’t.
The two guys searched for a few more minutes, once throwing the beam of their flashlight dangerously close to where Hunter and Devon were hiding, but doofus number two kept whining about his foot and they eventually gave up the hunt.
When they were finally out of sight,
Devon rolled onto his back in the leaves and let out a big puff of warm breath. The mist twisted and dissipated above him, revealing Hunter’s face peering down at him. Hunter grinned, all dark eyes and rough beauty. “We fucking did it, Dev. We got the Kappas.”
The mirth in his eyes was contagious. Devon smiled back up at him. “I can’t wait to see them sliding and falling over each other on that buttered floor like a bunch of bowling pins.”
Hunter reached out and took the black knit cap off of Devon’s head, exposing the purple-streaked hair they’d made sure to hide during the prank. He crammed the hat on his own head. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here, because my nuts are about to freeze off.”
“Can’t have that,” Devon said, taking Hunter’s offered hand and getting to his feet. “May throw off your balance on the field.”
Hunter smirked, and they trudged toward the frat house, the wind seeming to get harder and colder as they walked. Where the hell did California get off having this kind of weather anyway?
But the chill only got marginally better when they slipped inside the front door of the house. Hunter’s breath came out in a white puff. “What the fuck?”
Ames, one of the brothers who’d run ahead of him, stepped out of the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. “Looks like we weren’t the only ones pranking tonight. Heat’s been cut off and some jerkoff threw all of our blankets and bedding into the pool.”
“What?” Dev asked, looking up the staircase.
“Maintenance can’t get out here until the morning. I’m heading over to my girlfriend’s apartment. You might want to find a place to crash, too, or plan on sleeping in your coats tonight.” He patted Dev on his way to the door. “Nice work tonight, gentlemen.”
Devon watched Ames go, and then both he and Hunter vaulted up the stairs to their room. When they pushed open the door, they both cursed simultaneously.
“Motherfuck.”
“Son of a bitch.”
Devon’s bed had been completely stripped down to the mattress, and a bag of ice from the local gas station had been opened up and spread across it. A note pinned to the headboard read, Sigmas wet the bed.
Hunter’s bed was stripped as well, but apparently they’d run out of ice because instead of the full ice bath, all of Hunter’s underwear were strewn across the bed, and baby powder had been dumped all over them. His note read, Sigmas shit their pants. Hunter stalked over and swept the laundry from his bed, sending a powdery cloud wafting through the room. “Bastards.”
Devon coughed. “At least your bed is mostly dry. And smells baby fresh.”
Hunter looked over at the mess on Devon’s side of the room. “No shit. No way you can sleep on that. Let’s get all of that off of yours so it can dry out. I’ve got extra blankets and pillows in the closet. You can share my bed tonight.”
Devon lifted a brow. “You’re not even going to buy me dinner first? What kind of boy do you think I am?”
Hunter grabbed an ice cube and chucked it at him. “Shut it, Crowe. You’re lucky I’m not making you sleep on the petri couch.”
Ugh. No way. Devon shuddered at the thought of putting any exposed skin on the main couch downstairs. Two decades of parties, hookups, and God knows what else on that fabric. “Screw that. I think the floor in the bathroom is cleaner than that couch. But seriously, you sure you’re okay with sharing a bed? I mean, if you’re weirded out by that or you’re worried about what the other guys will say, it’s fine. I can find somewhere to crash.”
“With one of your on-again, off-again boyfriends?”
“No, I don’t have boyfriends. Too much work. I have acquaintances who I occasionally do dirty things with.”
Hunter sniffed. “No need to go whore yourself out for a bed to sleep in. I’m fine. Just don’t steal my covers, ’cause it’s fucking frigid in here.”
Hunter walked over to the closet and dumped out a laundry bin, lined it with a garbage bag, and then brought it over to Devon’s bed to start moving the ice into it. They worked in silence for a while, just the clink of the ice hitting the plastic container filling the room, but the quiet was anything but calm for Devon. He was going to share a bed with Hunter. They’d roomed together for almost a year. Things were comfortable. Good. Devon admired without crossing any lines. But it was going to be fucking torture sharing that small bed with the warm, hard body of the university’s favorite athlete.
Devon grabbed the bin, walked it to bathroom to dump the ice in the tub, and then returned to the room to find Hunter making the bed with new sheets and a thick blanket. Clouds of leftover powder hung in the air. “Well, aren’t you Mr. Prepared.”
“My mom bought me two of everything when I left for school. I think she’s under the impression the house has a maid service that’s changing my sheets weekly.”
Devon strolled over and pinched the luxurious fabric between his fingers. “Damn, these feel expensive.”
“Knowing my mother they’re probably made from angel tears and the golden hair of newborn babies or something.” He tucked the sheet around the bottom corner of the bed.
Devon laughed. “Your parents that bad, huh?”
Hunter had talked about his family before, and Dev knew that Hunter had purposely gone to school in California to get as far away as possible, but he didn’t know much about them beyond the fact that his dad was in politics and his mom was high maintenance.
“Mom’s okay. She just makes being rich her job. Dad’s a nightmare. If he saw what happened here tonight, he’d be calling lawyers to sue the other frat.”
“And what about the fact that you’re going to be bunking up with a gay boy?”
Hunter’s expression darkened. “He’d kill me first, ask questions later. He may do that anyway if he finds out we room together.”
Devon unzipped his jacket, frowning. “It’s hard to imagine you coming from such a closed-minded family. You’re like the poster boy for acceptance.”
Hunter shrugged, looking younger than his years all of a sudden. “My dad’s a great reverse role model. I watched what he did and then did the opposite. It’s worked for me so far. It got me here to California. It led me to major in engineering. And that gay dude I was supposed to run screaming from? Well, that guy turned out to be the best friend I’ve ever had. So, fuck my dad and his opinions.”
The words sent warmth spreading through Devon’s chest, and he walked over and cupped the back of Hunter’s neck. Despite the potentially intimate touch, Hunter didn’t shrink away—absolute trust that Devon wouldn’t cross a line ever present. Devon touched his forehead to Hunter’s. “You’re a good guy, Hunter Riley. I’m more than lucky to call you friend.”
He smirked, that spark of mischief coming into his dark eyes. “Stop trying to flirt before bed, Crowe. You’re not getting in my pants.”
Devon leaned back and cocked his head. “Can’t blame a guy for trying, right? You know, a quick fuck would warm us up. You could close your eyes and think of England. I’d be gentle.”
Hunter pulled off his jacket and tossed it to the side. “Do I look like someone who’d need gentle?”
The short, simple statement sent a bolt of heat right through Devon. His gaze snapped up. “What?”
“I mean, obviously I don’t know, but isn’t that one of the benefits of fucking a guy? You don’t have to be so gentle.”
“So you’d want it rough?” Devon wet his lips and forced out a half laugh. “Now you’re just trying to turn me on.”
“Shut up and get in bed.” Hunter tugged off his shirt, leaving him in just a pair of sweats. “I’m just saying. When I’m with a girl, I’m always worried about how much bigger I am than she is. I’m afraid I’m going to crush her under my weight or grab her too hard. I would think with a guy, that wouldn’t be as big of an issue.”
Devon tried to ignore the fact that Hunter’s bare chest was in full view. He’d seen Hunter shirtless a thousand times. The kid said sleeping with a shirt made him feel claustrophobic, but knowing
that he was going to be shirtless next to Devon in bed was a whole other matter. “Well, it depends on the guy. You’re a big dude. If you’re topping, you could still crush a smaller guy under your weight.”
Hunter went to their bedroom door and locked it, a thoughtful look on his face. “Is that what you do? Top?”
Devon eyed him carefully as he took off his own jacket and laid it over the back of the desk chair. He was used to having these kinds of conversations with Hunter. The guy wasn’t afraid to ask questions. But having this kind of conversation right before they were going to sleep in the same bed had Devon’s dick perking up and paying attention. Not good.
“I’ve done both, but I prefer to top.” He turned his back and hurriedly shucked his jeans before climbing under the blankets. At least if he got hard, he could hide it that way. “I can be kind of a control freak.”
“You?” Hunter feigned a shocked expression. “No.”
“Shut up.”
“If you fuck anything like you managed that group project in econ class, I’m scared for your dates.”
He laughed. “Hey, we got an A on that project.”
“’Cause we were all terrified of getting anything less for you. Figured you’d take us out to the whipping post or something.”
“You might’ve enjoyed that. You did say you like it rough.”
Flashes of Hunter tied up and bared for a kinky beating flickered through Devon’s mind, and he nearly groaned aloud. This was so not going to work. He had to get the fantasy reel in check or he was going to be tenting the goddamned sheets for all to see.
Hunter snorted and climbed under the covers, the weight of him depressing the bed and instantly making it warmer. He turned on his side to face him and propped his head on his elbow. “Hey, I really don’t care that we’re doing this, but it’s probably best we don’t mention it to the other guys.”
Devon swallowed. It’d be so fucking easy to reach out and pull Hunter down to him, to taste that full bottom lip, to show him exactly what the word top meant. He smirked instead. “No shit. There was butter involved. The jokes would be endless.”
