by Roni Loren
“I didn’t mean—”
He stepped past him into the room. “What in the hell?”
“Oh, right.” Hunter spun on his heel. “Another frat pranked us last night. I haven’t had a chance to clean it up yet.”
His father swiped through the powdery layer on the bedpost and touched it to his tongue.
Hunter recoiled. “What are you doing?”
His father eyed him. “Making sure it’s not cocaine.”
Hunter fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m not doing drugs, Dad. It’s baby powder. And for the record, my allowance definitely wouldn’t fund this much blow.”
“Watch your mouth, young man.”
“Sor—”
The door of the closet swung open, and Hunter’s heart stopped for a minute. No, not now. Please, Dev. But it was too late. Devon was already heading their way. And he was wearing Hunter’s clothes. Sweats and a knit cap that covered any hint of purple.
“Sorry to interrupt. Didn’t know we had company.” He sent a polite but fake smile Dad’s way. “You must be Senator Riley.”
Hunter lifted a brow. Devon’s voice sounded different—gruffer—and his whole demeanor was off. What the hell?
His father eyed Devon. “And you are?”
Dev put his hand out for a shake. “Devon Crowe, Hunter’s roommate.”
Hunter watched as the two men shook hands. And Hunter wondered how his dad would react if he knew he was shaking a gay man’s hand. Or that the hand he was clasping had been wrapped around Devon’s cock a few hours ago as Hunter lay next to him doing the same thing. Hunter knew he shouldn’t, but he got perverse pleasure from knowing that.
“So I guess you didn’t hear the knocking either?” his dad asked.
Devon released himself from the handshake and shrugged. “Sorry, sir. We both were up late hitting the books, and I sleep with earplugs since Hunter snores.”
Hunter could tell his dad was evaluating Devon, but thankfully for reasons other than sexuality. He was probably wondering if they were up drinking or getting high last night. That suspicion Hunter could deal with.
“Well, I’m not going to interrupt father/son day,” Devon said. “And I need to get going anyway. But it was great to meet you.”
“You could join us,” Dad said. “It’d be nice to know who my son is sharing a room with.”
Devon’s gaze flicked over to Hunter. “Ah, sorry, can’t today. I promised my . . . girlfriend I’d take her out to lunch. And you know how women are if you cancel on them.”
Devon’s smile went saccharine, tight.
His father returned the smile. “Yes, they are a demanding species, aren’t they? Go ahead. Don’t want to get you in trouble with the lady. Maybe some other time.”
Hunter’s fingers curled into his palms. He hated that Devon had to lie, hated that he had to be anyone but himself just for his dad’s sake. And he hated himself for not standing up and putting a stop to it.
Devon gave Hunter a quick glance and then headed toward the door. His father waited until Devon left, then said, “I knew this frat house thing was a bad idea.”
Hunter’s stomach dropped, and he turned around to face his father. “What?”
His father put his hands out. “Look at this place. It’s a dump. And that kid that let me in downstairs reeked of cheap beer and God knows what else. And he’s got a name like a terrorist. How did they let someone like that in the fraternity?”
Hunter gritted his teeth. “Dad, it’s Saturday morning on a college campus. Everything smells like cheap beer. And Ahmed is Muslim and about the nicest guy you’ll ever meet.”
His father’s lips pressed together. “Goddamned California. You sound like some bleeding heart already. And was your roommate coming off a high? His eyes were bloodshot.”
“I told you we were up late. Devon doesn’t do drugs.”
“This is not what I want you around. You shouldn’t have to share a room with anyone. I thought fraternities had some standards of who they let in and how they ran things. We can get you an apartment off campus.”
Hunter’s jaw clenched. “I don’t want an apartment. I like it here. My friends are here. And I like that it’s not the Ritz-Carlton. I can be normal for a while.”
His dad’s lip curled. “Normal? You know what that’s a code word for? Mediocre. I didn’t raise you to be average.”
“My grades are good. I’m going to my classes. I’ve never missed a practice with the team. Where I live is not affecting anything that’s important. Back off, Dad.”
His father stepped forward, fire and brimstone in his eyes. “You watch your tone with me, son. You’re here because I allow you to be. If I think it’s not serving your best interests anymore, I will move you back home. A&M will have a spot for you. And your mother will stop moping that you’re gone, so don’t push me.”
Anger steamed through Hunter, but he knew this was a fight he wouldn’t win. The more defiant he got with his father, the tighter his dad would squeeze. He needed to fake surrender. He let out a breath. “Sorry. I know you’re looking out for my best interests, and I appreciate it. But you also raised me to be an independent man, and I feel like I’ve earned the right to make some decisions on my own. If my grades or performance on the team suffers, then let’s talk. And if you doubt what I said about drugs, check the tests I have to get regularly for the team. I’m doing well here. I don’t want to spend this visit fighting.”
His father tucked his hands into his pockets and stared at him for a long moment. Finally, he took a step back and the tense set of his jaw relaxed. “Fine. You’re right that we shouldn’t argue when it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. We’ll talk about this at another time.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded at him. “Now change into something that doesn’t make you look like a hobo and put on a jacket. We have reservations at The Stermont in twenty minutes.”
“We could just grab a burger. There’s a good place right off campus.”
His father shook his head and glanced at his Rolex. “No. I have colleagues who are joining us and they want to meet you. Ten minutes. Wear a tie. I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
Hunter groaned after the door shut. Great. Just what he needed. Not only his father but also his father’s friends. He knew what that kind of lunch would be like. Look at my son the baseball star. Look at my heir apparent. Dance, monkey, dance.
He wished he was still in bed. Even if that meant he’d be faced with an awkward conversation with Devon. He’d take that any day over this.
But this was his life.
Being away helped him forget it was there. But it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
***
Devon waited until he heard the town car drive away before he came out of the chapter room and into the kitchen. “They’re gone?”
Ahmed looked up from the math book he was flipping through at the table. “Yeah, you’re safe. Why exactly were you hiding again?”
“I told them I couldn’t go to lunch with them because I had a date. But I left my keys in the room.”
Ahmed sniffed. “I don’t blame you for bailing. His dad seems like a prick. He talked to me slowly like I didn’t understand English. I wanted to be like, ‘News flash, old man: You’re the one with the goddamned accent.’”
“Yeah, the guy’s a major asshole.” Devon rubbed his arms, the house still chilly despite the sun being up.
Ahmed pointed to the counter. “There’s coffee left if you want some. May warm you up.”
“Thanks.” Devon went over to pour a cup.
“I can’t believe you guys slept here last night. It was like a meat locker.”
Devon kept his back to Ahmed while he fixed his coffee. “Hunter had extra blankets so we just bundled up.”
“When I called him this morning about his dad, he sounded freaked out. I thought he had a girl up there with him or something.”
“No, just me. But we were tangled
up together after a long, sweaty night of hot man sex. Didn’t want his dad to find out.”
Ahmed snorted. “Right.”
Devon smiled and sipped his coffee. It hadn’t been the truth, but it’d been closer to it than Ahmed would ever believe. He turned around and leaned against the counter. “His dad would flip his shit if he knew Hunter had a queer for a roommate. I think Hunter was worried I’d out myself to him.”
“Ah. Yeah, my parents probably wouldn’t be thrilled with that either. But that’s because they secretly worry that I’m gay.”
Devon lifted a brow. “Are you?”
“No. Just completely inept at getting a girlfriend.”
Devon laughed. “I’ve heard you have to actually go out to find girls. Not just hang out here at the house or with study groups at the library.”
“Hey, I drank two beers at study group last night. It was a wild time.”
Devon laughed. “Scandalous.”
Ahmed tapped his book. “My double major is a total cockblocker. It’s hard to find any time to go out anywhere, and most of the girls that come to our parties here have already put me in the friend zone.”
“Want me to set you up? There’s this girl in my accounting class who I’ve gotten pretty close to. She’s quiet, but once you get her talking, she’s hilarious. Cute, too, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
“I’m into cute. And I like funny.”
“Cool. I’ll invite her to the next party and do an intro.”
Ahmed grinned. “Do you charge a wingman fee?”
“Yeah, if you get a date out of the deal, you owe me a cup of the super expensive coffee. Not this shit we call caffeine.” He dumped his half-empty cup in the sink.
“Deal. I’d return the favor but the only other gay guy I know is my bio professor. And he smells like formaldehyde and has unfortunate amounts of nose hair.”
“Sexy. But thanks, I’m good.”
“I’m sure. It’s gotta be easier with guys, right? I mean, figuring out what a girl wants is so damn complicated.”
Devon smirked, thinking of the man who’d just walked out the door. Complicated didn’t even begin to describe it. “It’s as simple or as complicated as you make it.”
And Devon seemed to have a masochistic streak, because he was making this as complicated as fucking possible. Last night should’ve never happened. Seeing Hunter with his father today had cemented that. Even if Hunter has some curiosity brewing, even if maybe there was something there between them, Devon would be a major dick for pursuing it.
He knew himself too well. He hooked up and moved on. He didn’t do relationships. Doing anything with Hunter would screw up their friendship and worse, would risk messing up Hunter’s situation with his family.
Devon had been on the receiving end of being turned out from his family. He didn’t wish that on anyone. Hunter’s dad was a douchebag. That guy Hunter could probably do without. But Hunt also had a mom and a sister, extended family. He had all of that waiting for him back in Houston—financial security, a future where he wouldn’t have to worry about making ends meet, a home. It hadn’t been that long since Devon had been staring down the possibility of having to drop out of college and get two jobs just to get by. If his younger sister hadn’t hit it big with her music career, he wouldn’t be here right now. Oakley had saved them both when she’d landed her gig in a girl singing group. But Devon hadn’t forgotten what it’d felt like to be completely and utterly on his own—alone with no one standing in the wings to catch you if you tripped up.
He wouldn’t risk putting Hunter in that situation just because he had a hard-on for the guy. He needed to keep his hands to himself, sleep in his own bed no matter how damn cold, and stop fantasizing about his best friend. They were beyond lines being drawn in the sand. Moats needed to be dug and armed guards installed.
Maybe it was time to move out of the frat house altogether. He could afford a student apartment now and save himself the torture and Hunter the risk of this going any further.
He could start looking for a place today. He and Hunter were supposed to go see Oakley in concert this weekend, a road trip that had been planned for a while. He’d tell him then, come up with a way to make it sound like it had nothing to do with what happened last night. Maybe he could even use Oakley as an excuse—she gifted him with funds for his own apartment.
God, that sounded lame.
He’d figure something out.
He had to. Or this was going to end badly.
And no matter what, he knew one thing for sure: He didn’t want it to end. He’d never had a friend like Hunter. He could find people to warm his bed. That part was easy. But there was no way he’d find someone who got him like Hunter did. That shit was different. Special. And worth protecting.
Chapter 7
College
This was so not his scene. Hunter tried to move to the beat as the crowd pulsed around him near the front of the stage, but this music wasn’t his thing and the high school chick in front of him kept casually grinding herself back against him, making everything awkward. He wasn’t drunk enough for this shit. Grinding girl sent him a look over her shoulder that obviously was some sort of invitation, but he couldn’t be less interested. She had on a pound of makeup and reeked of some kind of sweet perfume and alcohol. No thanks.
Dev was having no trouble keeping up with the beat, though, and seemed to be having a way better time. The shots he’d taken before they came in had probably helped. The kid had been in a weird mood the whole ride here. But now he was bouncing next to Hunter, face lit up with pride, as he watched his baby sister perform on stage with her girl group, Pop Luck. Hunter took a long sip off his cup to finish his beer, entertained more by the view of his tipsy, dancing friend than what was on stage or the girl in front of him.
“Isn’t she amazing?” Devon yelled.
Hunter smiled and tossed his empty cup to the ground, Dev’s exuberance contagious. “Yep. She’s totally hot.”
Devon shoved him in the shoulder. “Watch it, big man. That’s my baby sister. I’ll kick your ass.”
Hunter caught Devon’s wrist before he moved away, the heat of Dev’s skin against his palm sending a jolt through him, and without thinking, he pulled him closer. “I’d like to see you try, Crowe.”
Devon’s gaze flicked to Hunter’s grip on his wrist then to the scant space between them, confusion flaring there. “What are you doing?”
Hunter knew he should let go, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Holding on to Dev in the mass of chaos felt like finding safe harbor in the eye of a storm. He put his mouth close to Devon’s ear. “I’m using you as a shield. I need you to protect my virtue from the jailbait over there. Maybe she’ll think we’re together.”
Devon glanced over at the girl, who peered back again, focus zeroing in on Hunter. Dev gave him a wicked look, his smirk loose from his buzz. “We’ve got this. Just follow my lead.” Devon hooked his finger in Hunter’s belt loop and dragged him over to the spot he’d been dancing in. The music pumped through the arena, and the colored lights sparked over Devon in a haphazard, colorful pattern, revealing only pieces, snapshots. Hunter couldn’t look away. Dev rocked to the beat. “Come on, big man. Dance. Let’s shatter her little schoolgirl fantasy about landing a college guy for the night. Let her think I’m taking you home.”
Hunter laughed, nervous all of a sudden. “I suck at dancing.”
“Nobody sucks at dancing at a concert. Just close your eyes and move.”
Hunter wasn’t sure that was the truth, but he did have a little buzz going, and Dev’s grip on his waist was keeping him in time with the music. He closed his eyes and hooked an arm around Devon’s neck, focusing on letting go and moving with the beat.
“There you go,” Dev declared. “Just move.”
Hunter rarely danced and definitely had never tried with a guy, but before long, he could feel himself getting swept up in it—the beer, the music, the skill of his
dance partner. All if it was pulsing through him with an electric edge, waking up everything and dragging him into the oblivion. He opened his eyes, finding Dev with flushed cheeks and laughing eyes. Devon spun around and then grabbed Hunter again without missing a beat. God, the kid was something. Devon was in his element tonight. Not that he ever held back. He was open about who he was, but seeing him in this environment proved that Devon still held some things in check around the frat house. Here Devon was free . . . and fucking magnetic.
The draw was something Hunter was learning to get used to. From the beginning, Devon had had this undeniable pull on him, but it’d been purely a friendship vibe. They connected and just got each other’s humor. Their differences had been a nonissue.
But after the night they’d shared his bed, the pull had gotten decidedly less clear cut. Hunter hadn’t lied when Devon had asked if he looked at guys in a sexual way. He didn’t. He was just starting to look at Devon that way. And it was completely fucking with his head.
The whole reason he’d been able to be so relaxed around Devon from the start was because Hunter had never considered that he was anything but straight. There’d been no question. Hell, if anything, he’d wanted to show some of the idiots in the frat that being gay wasn’t fucking contagious. And, of course, it wasn’t. But spending the last year with Devon had shaken the foundation of what Hunter thought he knew about himself. And he had no idea what to do about it.
Devon turned and put his back to Hunter, keeping close but moving with the music and leaving enough space between them that it didn’t cross into bump-and-grind territory. That’s when stalker girl decided she had an opening. She shimmied over and tried to work her way in between him and Devon. Her body brushed against Hunter’s arm in seductive invitation. But before she could slide into Devon’s spot, Hunter took a wide step, grabbed Devon’s hand, and pulled Dev against him hard. Their chests collided, and Devon’s eyes widened.
Hunter hadn’t planned for that to happen, but now that they were pressed together, he just decided to go for it. He gripped a hand in Devon’s hair and touched his forehead to his as they moved to the pumping music as one, hips grinding, bodies swaying.
