Want Me

by Neve Wilder

  Eric: So get your ass back here. 5 minutes tops, but I’ll bet I have you shooting in 3.

  I clenched my phone harder in my hand and gritted my teeth.

  Nate: Nope, can’t miss this class. Prof locks the door one minute after the hour.

  Eric: Chaffin or Anderson?

  Nate: Chaffin. Heard West does it too.

  Eric: They don’t know what they’re missing. A lot of good things straggle in a little late

  Nate: Or not at all.

  A handful of seconds passed with nothing else from him, so I texted again.

  Nate: I wanted to come in last night but I couldn’t. The guys stayed forever

  Eric: Not a deal, I told you. Just messing with you.

  Nate: Okay

  I started to type something else, then erased it.

  Eric: Nate

  Eric: I’m not going anywhere.

  Mark and I shared my second class of the day, Comparative Politics, so after it let out, we headed toward the caf to grab lunch. Spotting Jesse at the coke machines, I waved him over and he joined us, plunking down a thick burrito and a Mountain Dew before launching immediately into a bitchfest about the course load his advisor had recommended for next semester. It was nice, kinda like old times when we’d all started hanging out freshman year after Jesse and Mark had finally started getting along. Because they didn’t at first, and I’d never really understood why not.

  We played grievance roulette, which Jesse usually won, and Mark made sarcastic jabs between sandwich bites. And yeah, maybe he was a little more cutting than usual and still seemed to be giving me the side eye, like at any moment he expected me to break out a baggie of coke on the tabletop and snort a rail right there in the middle of the caf. But mostly everything was going just fine. I started to relax, thinking maybe things were going to work out fucking peachy after all. I was out to my parents, so was there really any need to rush things here when Eric and I could just get it on out of sight? I mean, I’d never been the kind of guy to go walking around with heart eyes and hanging all over someone anyway. The Defcon 3 boner threat being around the dude was token enough. And then, maybe over summer when school was out…

  “So was it fun over Thanksgiving? With Eric I mean?”

  I glanced up sharply to find Jesse scrutinizing me as he pried a glob of cheese from his foil wrapper with the corner of his thumbnail. I shrugged. “It was fine, yeah. Fun or whatever. He goes with the flow.”

  “I didn’t think you were a big fan of him honestly, so it was a little surprising you just up and invited him home with you.” That was Mark and suddenly I felt like I was at a chick table in the Mean Girls movie. Their combined expressions were like hawks circling a shadow moving across the grass, waiting for the right moment to dive. Maybe I was just being paranoid.

  “I was neutral toward him before, I guess. And now we’re cool.” Now we’re cool? Jesus, was that the best I could say about a guy who turned me inside out? Fucking wimp. Guilt rolled around in my gut and formed a mass—not a happy pairing with the Italian sub I’d just finished. I tasted acid in the back of my throat and reached for my water bottle, taking a quick swig before capping it again.

  Mark sat back in his chair, letting his legs sprawl wide as he folded his arms over his chest. “I guess if he’s your dealer, I understand.”

  I smacked my hand on the tabletop. Louder than I meant to. The sudden crack stung through my palm and made Jesse jump, while a table full of girls nearby looked over. But Mark kept his gaze on me levelly as I spoke. “Do you have a problem with him? Or me hanging out with him?” I went overboard trying to keep the desire to growl at bay and my teeth unclenched.

  “I don’t have a fucking problem with him, necessarily. I have a problem with my bro becoming a cokehead.”

  My pulse amped up a few more notches, and I was sure the blood running through my veins was nearing steam point. I sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “I’m not a cokehead. I was…we…” I needed another breath since the last one had run out far too soon, so I took it, probably sounding like I was having a panic attack. “We’re together. Seeing each other.” Mark’s face went blank, and then he burst into laughter that died a quick death as I glared at him. “We weren’t doing coke in the office that night—we were screwing around, okay? And I really fucking like him.” I collapsed back in my chair and ground the heels of my hands into my eyes until bursts of color danced in the darkness, then let them fall away.

  Jesse had gone stock-still, and I couldn’t read his expression, but I gauged Mark’s as utter disbelief. I was right there with him. It was like Thanksgiving all over again. Man, I really had zero cool in these kinds of situations. I seemed to either cold-shoulder people or just verbally vomit everything out at once. I’d be the worst politician ever.

  “You’re shitting me,” Jesse muttered.

  “Fuck.” I pushed my chair back from the table, at least remembering to shift my weight so the legs didn’t screech dramatically over the floor. “The whole coming-out thing is a load of horseshit and I’m done with it.” I swiped my napkin across my mouth, then balled it up and tossed it on my tray. “I’m pretty sure that as my friends you’re supposed to be more supportive of it or some shit.” I left my tray on the table and ditched out, pushing through the double doors and starting across the quad. It was cold as shit outside, and I’d forgotten my damn pullover in the cafeteria but sure as hell wasn’t going back to get it. Fuck it. I’d check the lost and found later.

  With my phone in my hand, I thumbed open my texts, about to message Eric and see if he wanted to meet up to fuck the agitation out of me—though if I was being honest, as much as I knew a hard fuck would get me on an even keel again, it was also just being around him that I craved. Like a moth to a fucking flame. A very dirty, very potent flame.

  “Dude, your pullover.” I whipped my head around as Mark jogged up, his arm extended and my fleece dangling from his fingertips. I snatched it with a muttered thanks as he fell in step beside me, panting as he tried to catch his breath.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I nodded tersely. “Yeah, it’s fine. I blew up. It was uncalled for, I guess.”

  He grabbed my shirtsleeve and stopped me, dragging me to a nearby stand of trees huddled around a small bench. I pulled my fleece over my head and parked my ass against a tree trunk as Mark lit into me, most likely deservedly. “You haven’t exactly been forthcoming lately, and you haven’t made it fucking easy to be supportive of anything when you’re hiding shit and lying about it. Constantly. And I think usually when there’s a whole coming-out thing, there’s a little more preamble or something than out of the fucking blue in the middle of the caf to two dudes you’ve been blowing off for the last two months.” He lifted his hand before I could spout off again. “I’m not saying I don’t get why you did that, but shit, cut me a little slack. I really did think you were getting into a problem or something.” He rubbed one shoulder uncomfortably.

  “Why?” I demanded.

  Mark let out a long breath. “Well, for one, you two suddenly started hanging out together, and then the whole thing with Merriweather happened and…” Mark paused. “Eric’s pretty tight with that Chet guy, right?” He said Chet’s name like it was something nasty stuck on the roof of his mouth.

  “Yeah, I guess. I don’t really know Chet at all.”

  “Well, Chet’s a fucking tool, and he was supplying Cam.”

  I bit my lip. Definitely not the time to remind Mark that a supplier didn’t an addict make, but I could understand his concern now. Maybe?

  I sagged a little against the tree, an involuntary mea culpa. “Sorry. I had no idea. I don’t see them hanging out much lately because…” I gestured to myself as if the reason should be obvious now. “But that’s not Eric. Trust me, I’d know. I mean, I’ve seen him hammered before, and he’s done some shit, but he’s not an addict or a dealer.” In truth, I didn’t have 100 percent proof of this, but I did have 100 percent trust in him and i
n my own assessment of him. That realization whooshed through me and threatened to send me into another internal tailspin because, holy shit, I wasn’t even sure when I’d last trusted someone I was involved with the way I trusted him. If ever. Not just in the bedroom, but beyond. “But I’m not doing shady shit, okay? I promise. Just freaking the fuck out over a bunch of other stuff.”

  Mark settled his ass onto the rail of the bench and gave me an expectant look, so I told him an abbreviated and much tamer version of how Eric and I had begun in the first place. Surprisingly, Mark listened attentively. “My parents know,” I finished. “I sort of dropped it on them over Thanksgiving.”

  “Jesus, was it weird?”

  “Awkward as fuck, yeah, but okay in the end.”

  Mark rubbed his lips together and fiddled with the strap of the backpack he’d let sag against his shins. “Cam and I kinda messed around once.” He glanced up at me, and the hesitation in his eyes kept me quiet, waiting to see if he wanted to say more. “We were both really fucked-up, and it wasn’t a big deal I didn’t think, but I dunno. I think maybe he regretted it a lot, and it ate at him and…shit.” He sucked a breath through his clenched teeth and shook his head. “His parents are really…they’re strict. Like devout-ass Baptists or something. Him being in a frat in the first place was rough from the get-go—I mean, they wanted him to go to a fucking seminary. Anyway, I just kinda wrote it off as like…heteroflexibility or something, but I don’t think he did. It didn’t happen again, and obviously neither of us felt any sort of urge to share with the class, but…I guess it messed with him.”

  “Damn, that sucks. I mean, you know him OD’ing wasn’t your fault, though, right?”

  Mark gave me a pained glance, then shrugged, seeming unconvinced. “In theory, yeah. I mean, I didn’t put the drugs in his hands or anything, but I guess I…” He shook his head. “I feel like I should’ve done more or noticed that it was becoming more than a party thing.”

  “Dude, we were sophomores and you’re not his dad. Did he want more or something? With you, I mean?”

  “What? No! Like the opposite actually. He kinda started shutting me out, and that’s when I started noticing Chet coming around.”

  I narrowed my eyes, because something about the story didn’t quite add up to me, but Mark turned the conversation and seemed ready to get off the subject.

  “Think Jesse’s pissed at you, though.”

  My brow wrinkled. “Jesse? What the hell for? He should be the understanding one.” I remembered the frozen look on his face, but I’d kinda forgotten all about him when Mark and I had gotten into it.

  “I’m pretty sure he’s had a major undercover boner for Eric since the dude moved in.”

  “Shit,” I muttered. “I guess I should talk to him.” Excellent. Something else for me to dread: Jesse’s big ol’ brown-eyed gaze looking at me like I’d kicked him right in the balls.

  Mark eyed me and raised a brow. “Or…you could take your own advice. You’re not Jesse’s keeper. Let him work it out.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, and I knew he knew what I meant. For lying to him, for shutting him out. For everything. It hadn’t been fair, even if he was a tool sometimes. I was, too.

  Mark stretched his legs out, lifting off the armrest as he shouldered his backpack and gave me a one-armed hug. “No sweat, man. I’m sorry for coming on strong and from the totally wrong angle. ”

  “Nah. It’s good. Don’t, ummm…can you not mention it to any of the other brothers yet? I’m not sure how…or…yeah, just don’t say anything if you don’t mind.”

  “We’re cool, dude, I gotcha.”

  We walked a few paces over the grass before I thought to ask, “What was that thing you said about…hetero what?”

  “Flexibility. Like…95 percent of the time, I’m all about the T & A, but sometimes if the situation’s right…” He shrugged. “Like the girl who gets drunk and makes out with her best friend or something because her lips looked soft and they were drunk and it felt good. Or, maybe they’re not even drunk, there’s just this situation where—” He waved his hand. “Fuck it, I don’t even know how to explain it. Mostly straight with occasional showers of homoeroticism or something.”

  I was mind-blown. “I didn’t even know that was an option.”

  “I have a cousin who volunteers at an LGBT youth shelter. She knows all sorts of stuff about sexuality. We were talking about it over Thanksgiving.”

  Heteroflexible. Huh. I turned that term over in my head, considering whether it was a better fit for me than bi and then decided fuck it, I didn’t necessarily need to figure it out because one thing I did know was that no matter what kind of label I attached to myself, Eric fucking did it for me. Up, down, backwards, forwards, and sideways.

  Jesse wasn’t at the house when I got back from classes, and neither was Eric for that matter. When I texted him, he said he had a study group until later that night.

  Nate: That door better be unlocked tonight

  Eric: It was unlocked last night

  Eric: Will be again tonight

  Eric: Straggler

  I hit the gym hard to make up for how much I’d slacked over the break, busting through cardio and weights until I was so drenched and hot that the shower I took afterward did nothing but encourage more sweat—especially because I grabbed the stall next to the one Eric had fucked me in. I got all overheated again thinking about it, wondering if we might be able to pull it off for a second time. Maybe with a few new twists.

  In true hornball fashion, I noticed I’d started keeping an eye out for other places on campus where we could sneak off to because now that I’d opened my mind to it, the possibilities seemed endless. Public sex kink—I definitely had it. And probably a lot of other ones I hadn’t figured out yet.

  By the time 11:00 p.m. rolled around, I’d finished all my homework and was slumping on the couch in my room, on my way to crashing hard when I heard the sound of Eric’s footsteps on the stairs. Jesse’d come and gone again earlier in the night, speaking minimally to me, though it hadn’t been unkind. My impression had been that he wasn’t sure what to say, but I was gonna take Mark’s advice and give it a few days to see how it’d all play out.

  Water ran in the bathroom, the door closed, and a few minutes later opened again. Then Eric’s bedroom door shut, and I grinned. I checked my watch and distracted myself for another ten minutes before leaving my room behind, anticipating his bed just as much as his body in it, the sheets warm and smelling like him. Maybe he’d be wearing one of those sultry-ass sleepy smiles I liked, or maybe that stern pinch of his brows that meant good times were in store for my dick. I was cool with either.

  “Thought you might stand me up again,” he murmured when I slid between the sheets and pressed against his back as he shifted to make room for me. He was lying the way he had been the first night I snuck in. It was his favorite position, I’d discovered over Thanksgiving—on his stomach and half-buried in his pillow.

  “I didn’t stand you up, technically speaking. I failed at waiting it out.” I ran a hand up his spine and curled my fingers around his shoulder, nosing at the nape of his neck where the masculine scent of him was potent. “You thought you were pretty fucking funny this morning, didn’t you?”

  “I was.” I could hear the amusement in his voice, see that wicked grin of his like it was right in front of my face. “God you’re sexy when you’re trying not to get hard.”

  “I’ve given up trying. I just let it happen and hope nobody notices.”

  “Like right now?” He shifted, one firm round asscheek nudging against me.

  “Oh no, I definitely want you to notice that. I’ve been waiting all fucking day to bust a nut.”

  “Yeah? So will you be mad if I tell you I knocked one out in the bathroom at the library tonight?”

  “Cheater, and also gross.”

  Eric laughed. “Bet you wouldn’t have said that if you’d been there.” He reached behind him, sliding his h
and up the length of my thigh, then easing it between our bodies until he was gripping my cock through my boxers.

  I let my eyes fall shut as he stroked me lightly through the fabric. “Maybe not,” I agreed. “Fuck, gimme some friction, you cocktease.”

  “Say please.”

  “Make me.”

  He did. I’d said it over and over as he rolled me onto my side, slid his hand behind my knee, and held it while he fucked me into oblivion. And even though I was sated and drowsy as hell afterward, sleep didn’t come. I twisted the bedsheets every which way trying to get comfortable until Eric ran his hand up the length of my arm and squeezed my bicep.

  “I feel like I’m trying to fall asleep in a box of puppies.”

  “Sorry,” I muttered. “I can go back to my bed.”

  “Or you can tell me what’s up.” He rolled to face me and dragged the tip of his finger along my jaw. “Can’t see you well enough to tell if you’re glaring right now, though.”

  I snorted and adjusted the pillow under my head. “I’m not glaring.”

  I told him about Mark and Jesse, and he closed the few inches between our lips and gave me a light kiss, saying afterward, “You’re on a roll.”

  “Your lack of impulse control is rubbing off on me.”

  “If that’s the only downside to all the other ways I get to rub off on you, I call that a win.” His teeth flashed in the darkness.

  “Mark thinks Jesse has a crush on you.”

  Eric mmm’d thoughtfully. “He invited me home with him for Thanksgiving, but I said no.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah. A few days after shit between you and me blew up.”

  “Why didn’t you say yes?”

  “Because I didn’t want to. I like him fine and he was probably just being polite, but I got the same vibe. He’s subtle about it, though. And he’s nice.”