by A. J. Truman
“I’m not an alcoholic. I just do it to be social.” Does getting drunk with one other person in her room count as being social? Ethan could see how that was a slippery slope. A pang of sympathy blazed in his chest. If he’d known how much drinking affected Jessica, he wouldn’t have gotten trashed in her room, right under her nose. That wasn’t just disrespectful. It was downright cruel.
“I didn’t know!” Ethan said.
“Dave and I are the only ones she told. I figured you should know, that it’ll help explain things. Please keep this between us.”
Ethan lay his head on the toilet seat, which he knew was filled with germs, but he felt even grimier. There were valuable moments from last night: dancing with Lorna, taking shots with Sahil, giggling and talking and bonding and letting the night take hold of him. He didn’t want to cut out that life completely.
His nerves sprung awake, and he lifted his head. A damp towel massaged his neck. The cool beads of water soothed his skin. He craned his neck and saw Preston behind him.
“Thought this might help,” he said. “Well, until you throw up again.”
Ethan’s stomach turned, but in a good way this time. He and Preston had never touched, not like this. His neck had never felt so warm.
“Thanks. Why are you up so early?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” Preston stopped rubbing the towel. “Blake and I broke up last night.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ethan said. Sadly, he was so hungover and hurt from Greg and Jessica, he couldn’t enjoy the news.
Preston shrugged. “It just wasn’t working out.”
“Sometimes it’s better to know that now and end things upfront rather than drag it out. You think you’re sparing someone’s feelings, but people get hurt much worse when you drag it out.” Ethan knew this all too well and gulped back a lump of heartache.
“That’s a good point. You’re very wise, Ethan.”
“Or so I’ve been told.”
They shared a moment when their eyes did all the talking. For Ethan, the silence was ten times scarier than any awkward conversation he’d tried to initiate with Preston. His body rumbled with conflicted feelings and emotions—
And vomit.
Actually, it was just vomit.
“Will you excuse me?” Ethan asked, kneeling over the toilet.
Preston got the hint and closed the stall door on his way out.
Φ
Ethan’s nausea returned on Tuesday, but no alcohol was involved. He stood on the bottom step of Bamberger Hall. He could avoid Greg, but he couldn’t avoid Con Law.
He couldn’t bear sitting next to Greg, not after everything that had happened. It would be torture to look at that face and know that Greg didn’t want to be with him.
He steeled himself as he reached the lecture hall. Instead of going to his regular seat, he stood against the opposite wall, using every fiber of willpower not to glance at Greg. Professor Sharpe had more energy than usual today. He bounced around the stage and asked questions to students. At least somebody had a good weekend.
His usual section of front row suck-ups provided all the answers. Ethan squatted on the floor and did his best to take notes without toppling over. His old self would be so ashamed of him right now, slumming it on the floor in a class he wanted. What happened to Ethan the good student? Or is he now Party Ethan? Or still Nerdy Ethan? He had trouble juggling all the versions of himself he was trying to be.
“Now, when was the first, last, and only time we repealed an amendment from the Constitution?”
“1933. Prohibition.”
That was Greg’s voice. In the front row? Ethan stood up and scanned the suck-up section.
“Very good, Greg,” Professor Sharpe said.
Greg, in the front row, wearing a button-down shirt and khakis, beamed with pride. An older man sat next to him in a full suit and patted his shoulder.
What. The. Hell.
“Everyone, we have a special guest in class today,” Professor Sharpe said and pointed at the man in the full suit. “This is Justice Warren Sanderson, Fifth Circuit Court of Virginia.”
Ethan had to blink twice to fully digest what he’d heard. Greg, the Greg Sanderson who could care less about law, had a federal judge for a father. Everything and nothing made sense at the same time, and like any good aspiring lawyer, Ethan had to dig deeper.
Φ
Justice Sanderson, Greg, and Professor Sharpe stood around bullshitting after class. Ethan waited in the hall and eavesdropped as best he could. He wondered if he would ever reach a high enough status to have a friendly chat with a judge or an esteemed lawyer. Greg nodded and smiled and played along, but he probably could care less. Life’s best gifts were spoiled on the wrong people.
Ethan played it cool, pretending to check his notes, while Greg and his dad left the lecture hall.
“Hey,” Ethan said, acting pleasantly surprised to bump into Greg. Panic flickered in Greg’s eyes. He had never seen him this nervous, and he enjoyed having the upper hand for a brief moment. “I didn’t know your dad was sitting in on class. I’m Ethan Follett, a friend of Greg’s.” He caught Greg holding in a breath at the word “friend.” “It’s nice to meet you.”
Justice Sanderson gripped his hand in a firm shake. Ethan felt seriously underdressed in his hoodie and jeans. He wondered if Greg’s dad knew his son usually wore warm-up pants.
“Nice to meet you.” Justice Sanderson wore thick glasses and a serious expression that seemed like a perpetual scowl. “So how do you know Gregory?”
Ethan stifled a laugh. Gregory. If only he knew.
“From Constitutional Law. It’s a great class. Professor Sharpe has so many interesting stories. I can’t believe he’s argued before the Supreme Court.”
“Professor Sharpe,” Justice Sanderson said with a laugh. “I remember when Wendell argued a case in front of me years ago. He was, shall we say, rusty.”
“Dad, you don’t have to talk about work.” Greg wouldn’t look at Ethan.
“What brings you to Browerton, Justice Sanderson?”
“I was visiting a colleague in Pittsburgh and thought I would pay my son a visit, make sure he’s applying himself.”
“I am, Dad.”
“Are you? Did you sign up to take the LSATs yet?” Every question that came out of Justice Sanderson’s mouth sounded like a cross-examination.
“I’m working on it,” Greg said through gritted teeth.
“By the time you work on it, the admissions deadlines will have passed.”
Ethan tried to hold himself back from fangirling, but this was the first time he had ever met a judge. “Your Honor, it is…an honor to meet you, I just have to say.” He couldn’t stop staring. He was surprised he could talk. He was having a conversation with a real live judge! Now he wished he had worn a suit, too. “I’m curious what you think of that immigration case making its way through the Texas courts.”
“I think there’s a good chance it gets turned over on appeal.”
“Like Ardsley v. State of Arizona?”
“Precisely!”
“Dad, let’s not talk shop all day long.”
Justice Sanderson pointed at Greg. “My son, the reluctant legal scholar. I’m glad I’m finally meeting a friend of yours who has more on his plate than drinking and chasing around girls. Walk with us, Ethan.” He led them downstairs to a bench outside the building and ran his wrinkled hands over the dedication plaque. He signaled for Ethan to come closer.
A gift from Grover and Missy Sanderson, Class of ‘51
“That was my father, Gregory’s grandfather,” Justice Sanderson said, his chest bulging with pride. “Browerton has been good to the Sandersons. It’s educated us, given us character.” He clapped Greg on the back, and Greg seemed to wince at the touch. The air had a crisp breeze, and yellow and orange leaves swept across the pavement. “So what type of law do you want to practice, Ethan?”
“I would love to stay with constitutional law, possibly
work for the state’s attorney.”
“It’s a great training ground. You can go anywhere after that. I never got those lawyers who just wanted to work in some cushy law firm where you get no legal experience. I know lawyers who haven’t stepped inside a courtroom since they passed the bar. Sure, you get a nice paycheck, but your brain turns to mush.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Greg cracked—a glimmer of the Greg Ethan knew. Not Gregory.
“Gregory, please. You don’t want that. You aren’t going to Harvard Law just so you can file motions and do document review all day.”
“I didn’t know you got into Harvard Law?” Ethan asked.
“He hasn’t yet. But it will happen. Once he finally takes the LSATs.” Greg kicked some stray leaves. “I will.”
“Has he talked to you about his preposterous plan to take a year off before going to law school?”
A simple question, but Ethan felt the pressure to answer correctly. He had wanted to see a new side of Greg, not get stuck in his family drama. Greg had never looked this beaten down. His smirk had gone into the witness protection program.
“Greg’s smart and savvy. I’m sure he’ll make good use of his time.” Ethan gave Greg a half-smile, but it may have been too little too late.
“If you take a year off to bum around, then you look like a slacker. How about you, Ethan? Where are you headed next?”
“Well, I’m only a sophomore. But I’m hoping to intern at a law firm this summer.”
“Hopefully, your enthusiasm will whip my son into shape.”
Greg pursed his lips like he was holding something back. Ethan didn’t want to know what.
“How about it, Gregory? Come up with an idea for what you want to do on your year off?” Justice Sanderson’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Your brother went to Harvard Law right after undergrad, and he loved it.” He then turned to Ethan. “He’s now clerking for a state supreme court justice in Florida. Gregory could have that, too. I suspect he’s having a little too much fun in college. Is he?”
Greg’s clenched expression remained.
“He’s very studious. I was having trouble keeping up in class, but he helped me understand the material. He’s a natural.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. There’s still hope yet for you, boy.” He patted Greg’s shoulder, only it didn’t seem like the supportive gesture Ethan saw previously.
Greg stood up. “Dad, what time is your flight? We should probably get you to the airport.”
Justice Sanderson checked his watch. “The limo is picking me up in about an hour. Let’s grab some lunch first. Care to join us, Ethan?”
Ethan didn’t have to view Greg’s expression to know the proper answer. “Thank you for the offer, Justice Sanderson, but I have class. It was great meeting you.”
Father and son walked off toward town, and Ethan slunk back to his dorm.
CHAPTER twenty-five
The front door to the dorm almost smacked Ethan in the face, and Jessica and Dave came out. Maybe that was intentional, he thought.
“Hey, guys.”
“Hey, Ethan,” Dave said. Jessica stayed silent and acknowledged him with the faintest of head nods.
“How did your show go?” Ethan asked. “I’m sorry I missed it.”
“It was a huge success. Thanks for asking.”
They switched places, and Ethan held the door open to keep the conversation going for another minute. “What are you guys up to for dinner?”
Dave looked at Jessica for a response. Her mouth twisted tight like a shirt about to tie-dyed.
“We’re eating at the dining hall tonight,” Dave said, not extending an invite. “This Norwegian novelist is speaking, so we’re going to see him after.”
“That sounds cool,” Ethan said with genuine interest. As much as others ragged on his friends, they did like trying new things. There were so many programs going on around campus every day, and Jessica was one of the few people who chose to take advantage. She came to college to broaden her horizons, not party. Ethan respected that, and a part of him felt the same way. The speaker sounded interesting, but Ethan didn’t need to be a body language expert to get that he should just stay home tonight.
He tried writing a paper in his room, but quickly fell asleep. A knock at the door woke him up. When he glanced outside, the sun was setting.
“Hey, Folly.”
Greg stood in his doorway, hands dug into his khaki pockets. Ethan’s jaw hit the floor.
“Mind if I…?”
Greg Sanderson stepped into his room.
Greg Sanderson was in his room.
He saw all the little details that made up Ethan’s life. The reminders thumbtacked to his bulletin board. The organized row of notebooks and folders. The keyboard cleaner next to his laptop. The perfectly made bed. All were in grasp. This was Ethan.
“Kids in this dorm are very trusting. I could’ve been a homicidal maniac.”
Ethan nodded. He didn’t know what to say. He wished for charted territory. Was he supposed to apologize or demand one from Greg or pretend like nothing ever happened?
“What are you doing here?” Ethan asked.
“I wanted to thank you for sticking up for me in front of my dad.”
“I’m sorry for intruding.”
“Why did you? Did you just want a connection for some fancy internship?”
“No!” Ethan shouted. He went to make sure his door was closed.
“Because you wouldn’t be the first one.”
“I wanted to meet your dad, okay? I wanted to know something about you. Just one of your little secrets that you keep locked away behind your Greg Sanderson facade.”
“You want all of me? Well, you just saw it!” Greg faced the window. His shoulders slumped. “I’m a fucking disappointment.”
That sucked the air out of the room. Ethan had never known a not-cocksure Greg. He was right. This was all of him.
“I don’t want to go to fucking Harvard Law.”
Ethan took a tentative step forward. “You want to teach, don’t you? That education class isn’t some distribution requirement.”
Greg sat on the foot of the bed. “I’m doing a double-major in special education.”
“That’s great!”
Greg seesawed his hand. “Teachers make pennies compared to lawyers. Trust me, I know.” He took a pause, and he squinted his eyes. Ethan could tell this wasn’t something he talked about, not with anyone. “My cousin has autism. People write off kids like him, but he’s a cool guy. Special ed kids just have an extra layer you have to get past. Most people don’t want to do the work. But my cousin rocks, and I want to help kids like him.” Greg shook his head. “I know, it’s corny.”
“I love your corny.”
Ethan noticed just how cute Greg looked in his outfit. The button-down hugged his firm frame and arm muscles, and the khakis made his legs thick and trunklike. Ethan knew not to get used to this clean-cut Greg, but he would enjoy it for now.
“Most guys in my frat are planning to be lawyers or stockbrokers. No teachers.”
“You can be a trailblazer then. Your dad will come around.”
“Come on, Folly. You’re not stupid. My dad is not the type who comes around. Not unless I go to Harvard Law and become an attorney. Then I’ll stop being an embarrassment to him.” Greg heaved out a sigh. “That’s me. The real me. I can have fun, but I can’t do much else.”
“That’s not true,” Ethan eked out.
“Well, tell that to my dad. Actually, don’t. You two are already way too chummy.” Greg smirked at him, and Ethan’s heart melted like a stick of butter in a frying pan. He patted the bed next to him. “What are you doing all the way over there?”
Ethan wanted to race over to him, but his memories held him back. “You made it clear what you thought of me at your frat’s party.”
“I’m sorry, Folly.”
“Please stop calling me that.”
“What was I sup
posed to do? I find you in my room posing like a second-rate porn star in front of my friends.”
Greg’s puppy dog eyes began their work on Ethan—until the party flashed back to him, through the boozy haze. Greg had stood there while his frat brothers laughed at him. Ethan knew how he was supposed to feel.
“You didn’t stick up for me. You let me leave.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve already said that. Twice.” Ethan stood by the door. Just like Greg had done.
“Can’t I explain?”
“I already know what you’re going to say. ‘You almost exposed me to my frat brothers. We’re just having fun, Folly. Blah blah blah.’”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“Then what were you going to say, huh?”
Greg launched off the bed, pushed Ethan against his door, and planted a passionate kiss on his lips. Ethan’s legs buckled under the heat beating off Greg.
Greg inched his lips away, and Ethan instantly dropped into withdrawal. Just like with drinking, one shot was not enough. Sincerity poured out of Greg, dripped from his stubble and big, brown eyes.
“I thought we were just having fun,” Ethan said.
“Oops.”
CHAPTER twenty-six
Greg kissed Ethan with his whole body, sending a sizzle down his spine. He grabbed him in a hug and soon his hands were tangled in Ethan’s hair. He felt Greg’s muscles flex as he held him against his chest.
It had been too long.
Ethan got back on his drug, letting Greg’s breath sweep by his ear and leave a trail of goose bumps in its wake.
“I missed you, Ethan,” he said.
He’d never known his name could sound this good. He’d never thought anyone would say it with such meaning.
Greg pulled him backward, to the bed. His hands were five places at once. Through his hair, on his cheek, sinking down his chest, grabbing his ass. He was pudding in each of those maneuvering hands.
“See? Beds aren’t boring,” Ethan said.
“I guess it depends who you’re on one with.”
