What Love Means

by F N Manning

  Watching Brendan spell was probably like what other people experienced when watching their team win the world series: I was incredibly proud even though I had nothing to do with his success.

  A girl with brown hair and intelligent, dark eyes made it to the end with my brother. Just those attributes made me think she was the mystery guy’s sister. My eyes drifted to the other teen as his sister spelled. He became softer for a second while watching her but was no less appealing. Whatever insanity took ahold of me that night returned. What were the odds I would see him again? It was like the universe telling me to chill out and have a good time.

  He still seemed interested, so it wasn’t just the alcohol. That was an ego boost. This may be the only time I snagged someone this attractive. Did it really matter if they were male or female? No one else would have to know. And why was senior year supposed to be easier? It was no less packed than any of the other years. Maybe I deserved some fun. More than the sort Russian literature could provide.

  “The winner is Brendan Winthrop-Scott.” I was drawn from my thoughts by the professor’s proclamation. I clapped much more enthusiastically than the other spectators.

  I didn’t think Brendan would let me get away with hugging him in public, so I settled for congratulating him verbally. He tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal as he said, “This was just for fun.”

  “You clearly have more talent than I gave you credit for,” I said earnestly.

  Brendan beamed until Professor Vincent walked over to us. The man frowned at us for a second, then shook himself and smiled. “Maybe young Mr. Winthrop-Scott can surpass you.” He left us to corral the kids for the rest of the meeting. Brendan looked at me quizzically.

  “He doesn’t like me very much, but he’ll love you if you keep going like that.” He gave me another embarrassed but pleased smile and went to join the others. There was no club until the last few years I competed, so Professor Vincent offered to tutor me before that. Dad hired someone instead. I guess he still hadn’t forgiven the slight.

  A few of the parents kept mingling in the parlor but most of them dispersed. I planned to use the rest of the time wisely. I attracted my, uh, gentleman caller’s attention and gave him a significant glance. Hopefully I didn’t look like I was having a stroke or something. I waited for him in the hall this time, but someone else came out first. Ugh.

  “You got your daddy to pull some strings after all, Cal?” Nicholas Stewart sneered. He had black hair, a long, thin face, and cold eyes. He always held himself to his full height even though he was pretty short. He looked at me like I was beneath him, but he looked at everyone like that. I really hoped I didn’t resemble him but feared I did. At least I was taller.

  “Can’t win them all,” I said neutrally, nodding my head to the parlor instead of commenting on his reference to the internship.

  He smiled thinly. “Jeffery will prevail next time.”

  “No,” I smiled. “Your brother can’t win them all because he already lost one. My brother can win them all.”

  He scoffed. “Are you sure? Your father can’t buy the whole thing.”

  I sighed. “Maybe you just weren’t the better applicant.”

  Nicholas’s eyes narrowed before he smiled. “Actually, this could be a good thing. I have free time. I heard Katie March has free time too.” Ugh, why couldn’t he just passive aggressively congratulate me and be done with it? This bordered on outright pettiness.

  I clenched my hand into a fist. He noticed the movement and grinned, so I brought my hand up to examine my nails like that was my intention all along. “I thought you weren’t dating this year.” Passive aggressive politeness was an art form in my family. “Isn’t that what you said after Rebecca and Sarah and Ashley turned you down for homecoming?” I asked innocently, like it was a genuine inquiry.

  His mouth tightened, score a point for me, then he changed topics. “Are you going to Kyle Fraiser’s party this weekend? Or did you already exhaust yourself on a school night?”

  It hadn’t been my idea to go out on a Thursday but I didn’t comment. Worry simmered in me for a moment as I jumped to conclusions about why he mentioned something that happened last week, but paranoia would do me no good in front of him. “Perhaps,” I replied shortly instead.

  Could we be done with this now? Secretly, I hated the competitiveness between us. I saw him all the time. We were friends with the same people. Yet it was always him who seemed to be in direct opposition to me when playing sports or getting good grades. Maybe there was a way we could reach a truce. What if he didn’t hate me? Maybe he just had parents who told him to be more like Cal Winthrop-Scott. Perhaps we could put our animosity in the past.

  Nicholas’ eyes glinted with something dangerous despite his civil tone. “I swore I saw the craziest thing when we went out last week.” So much for putting the animosity in the past. I wanted to strangle him.

  My throat was tight with panic but I managed to get out, “Whatever you think you saw, you’re mistaken,” in a whisper.

  “Perhaps.” He sounded amused. “Maybe it was a trick of the light. None of the other guys seemed to know where you ran off too.”

  “And you—” I broke off. I couldn’t ask.

  “I didn’t say anything,” he said kindly. As if it was an afterthought, he added, “But I could.”

  Part of me wanted to admit defeat, curl up in a small ball, and cry. Actually, most of me wanted that. I rose to my full height instead so I could menace over Nicholas. When the time for passive aggressive slights and polite words with hidden meanings was over, it was time for intimidation. Not my strongest suit but I had to try.

  “Forget whatever you think you saw,” I warned lowly. “It’s only an internship. You don’t want to go burning bridges over it.”

  “What are you talking about?” he smirked, raising an eyebrow, clearly thinking he had the higher ground.

  “Well, my godfather is head of the admissions board at Princeton. It would be a pity if his impression of you were to become tainted.” I smiled pleasantly at him after delivering the threat. A bluff really. His family might know people at Princeton too, but my father had a reputation for being ruthless in his business dealings. All Nicholas had to think was that I was the same way or that this was some kind of mutually assured destruction situation.

  His eyes widened before he schooled his expression back to contempt. “You’re a regular chip off the old block,” he muttered. Why was that a bad thing? We both wanted the internship with my father’s company after all. The man knew how to get things done.

  “You too,” I said cheerfully. “Give your parents my best.” I gestured with a hand, shooing him away. He scowled but stalked off obediently.

  I couldn’t quite stop a smug grin from forming on my face. Everything between Nicholas and I was a competition, so I enjoyed the small victory. However, my brooding mystery man didn’t seem to enjoy the show. I noticed him standing frozen nearby after Nicholas stalked away. Oh, how much of that had he seen?

  I didn’t know how to explain. Sure, it had been a low blow, but Nicholas really was a pain in the ass. He threatened me first anyway; I had to respond. “Where were we?” I asked. I hoped we could ignore the unpleasantness of a moment ago. And if I was going to be blackmailed for it, I might as well get more than just a drunken escapade with this sexy stranger.

  The other boy looked at me blankly for several seconds. I was beginning to get worried when a smile appeared on his face. His grin turned sinful and I felt a flutter in my chest. The lust from our night together wasn’t a fluke; it was back, strong as ever. “Show me where the learning happens,” he requested.

  ***

  We found an empty classroom and were on each other. His body pressed me into the door until I adjusted so the knob wasn’t digging into my back. Maybe he thought I was trying to get away because he shoved me backward. It took my breath away but in a good way. I didn’t mind being trapped between the firm surface of the door and his d
electable body.

  With his tongue painting dizzying patterns inside my mouth, it was a struggle to think. Should we talk first? Did I need to make sure he understood this was a one-time thing? Or maybe two or three times. He was more forceful than the day before, but excitement and arousal pooled in my stomach each time he slammed his body into mine, so I didn’t mind. He placed biting kisses on my jaw while he moved to mark up my neck.

  Thank god fall weather was approaching; this felt too good to stop and it wouldn’t be weird if I had to wear a scarf or turtleneck. I was too distracted by my growing desire and his wicked mouth to notice how fast this was moving. He had my shirt unbuttoned and was working on my pants.

  “Are we really going to do this now?” I questioned. Katie had been my only serious girlfriend. I should definitely slow things down. Any second now. I didn’t seem to be doing that.

  “We don’t have that much time.” He winked. “We can take our time later.”

  I wanted to protest again, but then he was on his knees, running his hands over my hips and opening my pants to reveal the black boxers underneath. Good thing I chose to wear them today instead of something from my superhero set. Aquaman boxers would probably ruin the mood.

  If this guy wanted to… have his way with me in a deserted classroom, it wouldn’t really be a hardship to let him. It didn’t mean I was gay or that it had to happen again. And it felt so good. The rough treatment was hitting all kinds of buttons I didn’t know I had. Still, I couldn’t be a complete doormat. “Don’t really think you needed to take my pants off,” I managed.

  He did anyway but I didn’t complain again once he jumped up and pressed his body against mine. I forgot about everything else as he probed my mouth with his tongue. His hands pulled at the tie loose around my neck as he removed my shirt, and fabric moved down towards my wrist. He stepped away suddenly. It was cool in the room without his body on mine.

  I went to chase his mouth but found my wrist bound to the door with the tie knotted around the knob. He didn’t look smoldering and sexy anymore but smirking, angry, and victorious instead. It would have still been hot if I didn’t feel wrong footed and confused. Struck dumb for a moment by what was happening, he had enough time to get my belt from my pants and tie my wrists together.

  “What the hell?” I asked while tugging on my makeshift shackles. Was this some type of prank show with hidden cameras? I was offended at my subconscious. I may not be so obviously appealing like the smirking jackass in front of me but surely that wasn’t the only way I could land someone so hot.

  “I used to think that saying about revenge being a dish best served cold was total bullshit,” he laughed. “This is actually really satisfying.”

  “Revenge? We don’t even know each other.”

  He trailed a finger down my chest. “You’re Calvin Winthrop-Scott.” He did a mock pout. “You don’t recognize me?” Between his insane hotness, the drinking and dancing, and our amorous activities, he made an impression. A bad one. He was trouble but so damn appealing anyway. I’d definitely remember him.

  “Cal. No one calls me Calvin,” I replied instead, not sure what else to say. I started going by Cal in high school. “Did we compete in middle school?” We locked eyes. He looked away first. That was it; we’d competed before. The air between us became heavy for a few seconds. Until I burst out laughing. “Do you have a grudge because I’m a better speller than you? Please tell me that’s not what this is about.”

  He rolled his eyes and took out his phone to snap a picture. I glared while he shrugged. “It’s a keepsake.” His eyes darkened. “Someone needed to take you down a peg or two.”

  “Who knew someone so intimating and surly would be a sore loser?” I pondered out loud. Internally, I remained rather calm. My brain simply refused to accept that this was happening. Nope, no way, I’m mistaken. I would be untied and free any second now. This just could not possibly be real. Hazing wasn’t supposed to start until I joined a frat in college.

  “People are full of surprises. Or maybe not in your case. You’re entitled and rich but that’s not enough for you,” he scowled. “You still have to treat people like dirt on the bottom of your shoe.”

  “What you walked in on—”

  “What about at our last competition? You won and then I recall something about me being trash.” He smiled but it was hard, cruel. “You had a lot to say.”

  “Max,” I breathed. There was only one person from the bee I parted with on bad terms. He stared me down, stormy amber eyes going through a wave of emotions I could only guess at before he nodded. Max Keller. He didn’t touch me this time, but I still had the breath knocked out of me. This wasn’t just any former competitor. Max had been my best friend.

  In the past, his mom had done his hair. It was always cut short and she’d made it rest neatly on his head. He’d also been small. He looked totally different: hair unruly, body much more pronounced. He wore glasses back then. I felt lost, staring at him and not being able to see the kid I traded Pokémon cards with or tried to outsmart while we watched Jeopardy. He’d been scrawnier than me back then even though I’d been pretty scrawny myself.

  Losing hurt, sure, but I expected him to congratulate me anyway, to support me as I did every time he went further than me. There’d been fighting and insults instead. “You’re still mad I won?” I asked quietly. He didn’t confirm or deny it, just glared steadily at me, and my calm about the situation snapped. “It’s not my fault you didn’t have what it took.”

  He pointed at me, eyes flashing with heat. “That, that’s what it’s about.” He stalked away for a second then wheeled back towards me. “I acted badly, but you won and acted worse.” He laughed humorlessly. “I thought maybe you changed, but you’re still the same stuck up asshole.”

  “I’m not sure you’re any better.” I gestured as much as I was able to in my bonds. “This is petty.”

  The comment didn’t bother him. “What do you expect from a dirtbag like me?”

  “I never called you a dirtbag,” I replied inanely. I had called him a lot of other things: insane, jealous, inferior.

  “The gist was that I’m beneath you.” He stepped closer, the hint of an inviting smile on his lips. It reminded me of a children’s poem: step into my parlor said the spider to the fly. I knew it was a trap but that didn’t stop me from feeling mesmerized by him and wanting to get lost in his web of desire. He nodded down to our bodies. “Now you’re beneath me.”

  “Let’s talk about this.” Panic crept into my tone, belying the rational tenor I tried to strike.

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” He evaluated me. “You either learned your lesson or you didn’t.”

  I nodded quickly. “I have, definitely.”

  He considered, pressing his lips together. “You don’t look very sorry to me.”

  “I’m deeply remorseful for my actions,” I intoned. It might be true, I’d been a stuck-up brat, but I was more worried about getting out of this predicament than anything else.

  “Same old Calvin, huh?” He almost smiled. “Always gotta show everyone how big your brain is because you know fancy words.” His eyes trailed down my body. “That’s not you compensating for something, is it?”

  I sputtered incoherently for a few moments as he grinned at me without shame. “Max, for god’s sake—” I snapped.

  “Hey,” he interrupted, “you’re contrite, remember?”

  Who was using fancy words now? I managed not to comment while I nodded instead and tried to appear apologetic.

  He tilted his head while he evaluated me. He had done that when he was a kid too. I needed to be on guard, but the motion disarmed me as it was the first action I recognized and could reconcile with the boy I knew before. Then he stepped closer and I was transfixed by something else, his eyes again, and the way his hair fell slightly onto his face. I liked his longer locks.

  He kissed me, soft and teasing, until I was distracted enough, and he pulled back and slipp
ed past me, taking my shirt and pants with him. “Bye!” he called behind him.

  “No, wait, come back here!”

  Shit.

  bal-ə-(ˌ)nō-päs-ˈthīt-əs, noun

  Inflammation of the foreskin and head of the penis

  Cal’s dad wasn’t just a dickhead, he was a bal-ə-(ˌ)nō-päs-ˈthīt-əs.

  Chapter 3

  B-A-L-A-N-O-P-O-S-T-H-I-T-I-S

  Max

  Even though it was surreal, watching the bee had started okay. I felt more relaxed than I ever had while in the world of competitive spelling. I didn’t have to assess whether I knew every word they asked and lament over each word I knew, wishing I got it instead. In the back of my head, I tried to spell every word anyway. I still seemed to know my way around the dictionary.

  Then I forgot all about spelling when I saw the hottie from the other night. Yeah, it definitely wasn’t surprising that he came from a place like this. I didn’t mind if he wanted to slum it with me again. What were the chances I’d see him again? Maybe it was fate. No, that sounded too romantic. It was whatever it is when lust brings two people together again. Horny fate.

  I almost didn’t go after him at first. In the light of day, I could recognize him. I tried to tell myself I didn’t know for sure, but one of the contestants looked exactly like Calvin the last time I saw him, just less skinny and awkward. I liked fooling around with preppy guys but had a history with this one. It was a bad idea. Hadn’t I been bored though? It would be exciting at least.

  I rode around on what my mother called an ‘insane metal death trap’ and we both knew I wasn’t as careful as I should have been if April wasn’t with me. I’d gotten into fist fights with guys twice my size at school before I bulked up, I was the first of my friends to smoke pot, and I had done a million things I’d never imagined myself doing when I was Cal’s friend. At the heart of all those things, I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t the cowardly little boy I used to be. If I ran the other way now that I knew who he was, that felt a lot like fear. Like I couldn’t handle myself against him and that was ridiculous. I couldn’t be scared of a guy who had manicured nails.