by Vivica Dorn
THE KINGSTON COLLEGE SERIES:
Book 1: THE TA
Book 2: THE SHARK
Book 3: THE FARMBOY (to be released)
The Kingston College books can be read in order, out of order, or as standalone stories.
OTHER VIVICA DORN BOOKS:
UNDERHANDED GAMES
THE SHARK
Kingston College #2
Vivica Dorn
CHAPTER 1
Finn Adamson coursed through the water, as at home as he could ever be. The water of the Kingston College pool caressed and buoyed him as he propelled himself faster and faster. The thrill of the cool water against his hard body never got old, and he had to stop himself from grinning as he rhythmically turned his head to breathe with each front stroke. The Kingston College Swim Team was practising the relay and Finn was the third leg. His teammate Lance was waiting, crouched above and ahead of him, ready to take the final leg of the relay as Finn approached the wall, arm outstretched. He could feel Lance’s eyes on him, even through the dark goggles, laser-focused, waiting for him to arrive. He could practically feel the tension rolling off of Lance’s body, and the millisecond his fingers tapped the wall Lance was arching over him, his huge, tall body diving forward with ferocity Finn had never seen in another swimmer. His long legs and height meant that he was already ahead of the swimmers in the other lanes who had jumped into the water around the same time. As much as the older swimmer bugged him, Finn had to begrudgingly admit that he was a phenomenal athlete, a real star.
Finn pulled himself out of the pool and watched Lance pierce through the water, straight and true as an arrow. The exceptionally tall junior was built to do this. Finn felt a frisson of jealousy run through him. Absolutely fucking perfect form, he thought with a grimace. Finn loved swimming, had loved it since he was a child, and knew he had a talent for it. What he lacked in technique and experience he made up for with pure passion, love for the sport, and speed. The coach had started calling him “Minnow” because, though he was shorter than many of his teammates, he darted and spun with a natural quickness.
Lance was the complete opposite of a minnow. He was a shark – huge, strong, exquisitely graceful and yet somehow dark and ominous. He was their team’s most valuable weapon in the relay; he could close almost any gap in the final leg if they were behind; if they were ahead, he widened the gap and won them the relay with ease. Finn couldn’t keep his eyes off the older boy as he easily pulled ahead of his teammates in the other lanes. His long, muscled body cut through the water violently, but with a violence that was carefully controlled. Finn shivered as drops of the pool’s water rolled over his skin, watching Lance with a mixture of reverence and annoyance. He swam like a machine, but Finn couldn’t sense any passion from him, couldn’t sense a love for the water, and that bothered him more than it should have. It wasn’t fair that someone who didn’t love the sport as much as Finn did would be so fucking perfect at it. Finn noticed himself pouting and quickly shook himself as the tall swimmer returned for the final lap, sluicing through the water towards the wall. Irrationally, Finn had the intense urge to step back as Lance’s huge body barrelled toward him and came up against the wall below his feet. Lance righted himself in the water and pushed back his goggles, looking up at Finn. For a moment Finn’s eyes met with Lance’s steely grey ones and a strange and foreign shock ran through him, scalp to spine. He quickly looked away, scowling. Lance’s serious, brooding grey eyes always made him feel so damn weird. He was sure the older boy was always judging him for something – his lack of technique, his lack of height, something.
After practice the team warmed up in the showers. Finn sighed into the hot shower’s stream, rinsing the chlorine from his dark curly hair. While he didn’t mind the cold water of the pool when he swam in it, he always revelled in the warm shower afterward. He hated being cold, but you’d be hard pressed to get him to admit it – with large, long-lashed eyes and glossy curls, Finn already felt like he had to make up for a certain inherent femininity. His pride would never allow him to complain about being cold the way girls so often did. Still, he took secret pleasure in the steam and the warmth running over his skin, closing his eyes and rubbing his hands over his shoulders and arms.
When he opened his eyes again, he noticed someone had stepped into the shower next to him. Their locker room didn’t have dividers, just an open wall with shower heads. It didn’t really bother Finn; like his teammates, he usually got in and out of there fairly quickly and no one made much of a big deal about looking at each other. Despite that, though, he let his gaze fall to the side for a moment to see who was there, and the water suddenly felt a little colder when he realized who it was. Lance. He thought about the fact that, after almost two months practising together, Lance had never said a single word to him. Ever. Then again, he didn’t see Lance talk to their other teammates much, either. He had a few friends in his year on the team, but in general he was reserved in a way that seemed almost stoic, always serious, always focused. Lance turned his shower on beside Finn, turning his face up to the warm water streaming down. Steam began to rise around the tall swimmer’s body. Finn watched as the water turned Lance’s dark coppery hair to a deep, rich mahogany. Finn wasn’t sure he had ever been this close to him, and noticed a faint smattering of freckles dusting the tall boy’s broad shoulders and back...
Suddenly Lance’s eyes were on him, boring down into him with icy fire. Finn gasped and looked away, straight ahead at the blue tiled wall in front of him, face burning. What the hell was he doing? He regarded Lance from the corner of his eye as Lance began to wash himself slowly and methodically. It had been only the briefest of glances, but there was something in Lance’s eyes that Finn couldn’t quite name or understand. He quickly turned off his faucet and left the showers, drying himself, dressing, and getting out of there as fast as he fucking could.
CHAPTER 2
Finn’s Politics and Governance professor, Dr Adams, was late to class, and the students in the lecture hall chatted and laughed in his absence. Some of them snoozed. Finn wouldn’t mind sleeping a little more himself – he always struggled with the 8:30am classes, even though he was usually up much earlier than that for swim practice. Something about warming up in the showers after practice made his sleepiness return full-force, and sitting in a dim lecture hall while his professor droned on only made things worse. A few more students streamed into the hall, looking relieved that the professor had not yet arrived. Among them was Lance, towering over the other students walking in at the same time. Hot annoyance and embarrassment warmed Finn’s cheeks and he stiffened as Lance took the seat directly behind him. He rolled his eyes. Out of all the empty seats left in the hall, Lance had to sit right behind him? Really? Was he trying to intimidate him into being a more disciplined swimmer by monitoring his academic performance or something? This wasn’t the first time this had happened, either. Lance had sat directly behind him several times, and with an embarrassed huff Finn thought back to Lance claiming the shower directly next to his. Finn was considering getting up and switching seats when his friend and fellow swim team member Sam practically fell into the seat beside him, laughing.
“Made it!” The tall blonde boy grinned, his straight white teeth gleaming in contrast with his tanned skin. Somehow Sam managed to look like a California surfer all year long, despite the fact that they were currently experiencing a miserably grey October. He brushed his long golden bangs out of his eyes, and leaned closer to Finn, speaking quietly. “Did you see who’s sitting behind you?”
Finn rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, what the hell, there’s so many empty seats. Why’s he even in a freshman course, anyway?” Finn whined. The back of
his neck prickled; he was sure Lance was staring at him. He wondered, a little meekly, if he had complained too loudly.
Sam shrugged. “He’s an engineering student so it’s probably an elective. No idea why he sat there though. You’re always the third to his fourth in the relay, maybe he wants to keep his eye on you, make sure you’re being a good boy out of the pool,” Sam teased. Finn groaned at his friend, elbowing him.
Suddenly the class quieted as their teaching assistant, Michel, walked in. In tight dark jeans and a V-neck sweater, with chestnut locks, green eyes, and a red, curving mouth, Michel looked more like a model than a Master’s student, but he was exceptionally brilliant. It was rare that he made an appearance in lecture, but he graded most of the students’ papers and exams. Finn squirmed a little as he remembered the scathing comments on the last paper he had turned in. Sam immediately leaned forward, totally ignoring Finn now and staring at the TA. Michel saw Sam and noticeably blushed, shooting him a look that was absolute scathing. Sam grinned and then leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his had lazily, his eyes never leaving Michel. Finn looked at his friend curiously. What the hell was that?
Michel cleared his throat and regarded the rest of the class.
“Professor Adams can’t attend lecture today due to family circumstances. I will be lecturing today in his stead.” An international student from Belgium, Michel spoke with the posh, smooth accent of someone whose first language was French but who had spent his undergraduate years at Oxford.
Sam quickly pulled out his pen and notebook, looking at their TA almost eagerly, as if he wanted to be noticed taking notes. Michel looked at Sam again, narrowed his eyes, and began the class without a further glance his way. Finn ignored whatever the hell his best friend was doing and started taking notes, determined to make up for his recent poor grade.
CHAPTER 3
Lance Gallagher wasn’t surprised to see his friend Michel teaching the class today. Michel had mentioned he might be filling in for the professor this week. He listened as Michel began to lecture but he didn’t bother taking notes – he rarely did. He found that he remembered almost everything he needed to in lectures just by listening. He barely studied for exams yet had some of the highest grades in his year. He didn’t particularly care about things like that – having the best grades. It just came naturally to him.
He found his eyes settling on the boy in front of him throughout the lecture. Something about the freshman got under his skin in an irritating way. He was arrogant, too arrogant, and he swam without discipline. He was an extremely talented swimmer considering his lack of training, but he moved with wild abandon, a lack of thought and attention, and, though he always wanted to swim faster, he didn’t seem to have any interest in swimming better, something that frustrated Lance to no end. He also didn’t like the way the boy’s blue eyes often seemed to follow him: in the pool, in the locker rooms, in the halls. There was something disarming in Finn’s face: the wide, deep blue eyes with long lashes made him look younger than he was. Perhaps his arrogance was to help make up for his girly-looking face and dark curls. Finn. What kind of swimmer had a name like Finn? It was ridiculous. Too ridiculous to even think about. And yet Lance found himself thinking about the younger boy when he should have been listening to the lecture.
He watched as Finn took notes diligently, and also watched as the girls around him giggled and stared, clearly talking about the beautiful boy. This bothered Lance for reasons he couldn’t quite name. Irrational anger swarmed in his chest and he ground his teeth as he fought back the urge to slam a book on the desk next to the girls and shock them into paying attention to the lecture instead of Finn. The hypocrisy of the desire wasn’t lost on him – he had missed everything Michel had said in the last five minutes. Sam leaned in and whispered something against Finn’s ear and Lance clenched his jaw, leaning forward involuntarily. Finn turned to his friend, his soft mouth moving soundlessly in the lecture hall. Lance watched that mouth intensely, unsure why he couldn’t look away, suddenly uncomfortable. Such an arrogant swimmer shouldn’t have such perfect, innocent-looking face, pouty mouth, and slim body.
Since the first time Lance had seen Finn swim, he had wanted to tame him. He watched Finn swim with that extraordinary joy and had the intense urge to crush the feelings of freedom right out of the smaller boy. The sport required discipline, and he wanted to instill that discipline in Finn, brutally. He wanted to wipe the confident smile from his face after each successful swim, wanted to take that slender throat in his hands, wanted to force his fingers into that wet red mouth, wanted to shove his cock -
Wait, what? What? What the fuck? What had he been thinking, where had his mind been just about to go? Before he could sort out exactly what had just happened, the lights in the lecture hall came on and Michel turned off the projector. Lance squinted in the light, breathing deeply, steadying himself and his wayward thoughts, realizing he hadn’t listened to the lecture with his usual care. He would have to ask Michel for notes later, he thought, irritated. His dislike for the young bright swimmer was morphing into something else, something unhealthy and distracting that he wasn’t sure he could control. He swallowed and set his jaw. This was bad. This was very, very bad.
CHAPTER 4
“Remember we have a quiz next time on the effects of globalization on the democratic processes of developing nations. Today’s slides will be posted for your review. Merci, tout le monde.”
Sam stuffed his things into his bag quickly, and blurted, “later, man,” without looking at Finn, jumping up and approaching Michel before the TA had a chance to leave ahead of the students. Finn watched as his tall blonde friend stood unnaturally close to the European student. Shaking his head at his friend’s antics and gathering his own things, Finn stepped out into the aisle without looking to see if anyone was coming. Someone bumped into his back, knocking him forward. Finn’s stomach clenched as he stumbled forward, about to fall down the steps that led to the front of the lecture hall. A strong hand gripped the back of his shirt, right at the nape of his neck, and yanked him back. For a moment he was pressed against a huge, strong body. Relieved, he turned around, about to apologize, then he froze.
Lance stared down at him with a look that could only be described as seething. His square jaw was tight with tension, his grey eyes burning. Finn met the look with annoyance. What was Lance’s problem? What did his tall, insanely talented teammate have against him? Finn had never done anything to him! It didn’t help that Lance was one of the best-looking guys Finn had ever seen. His cheeks reddening, he remembered the last girl he had hooked up with, a cute blonde whose name he couldn’t remember, during the drunken festivities of the first week of school. After making out for a while in the corner of a room at a party she had pulled away, looking suddenly dreamy, and said, “hey, do you think you could introduce me to the tall guy on your team? The one with the reddish hair?”
Finn jutted out his chin, trying to look tougher after he realized he had probably been pouting. It was a bad habit of his, and made his already soft features look even more girly.
“Watch it, Lance, you almost killed me there,” he muttered, knowing that the collision had been his own fault but not particularly caring.
Lance’s nostril’s flared and a muscle in his jaw twitched. There was a flash of something dark in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Lance detached his gaze from Finn’s face and looked over his head as if dismissing him.
“My apologies,” he said flatly, brushing past the smaller boy, walking down the steps and exiting the hall. Finn waited a moment, then followed him and the other students out, ignoring the way the skin burned where Lance’s knuckles had brushed the back of his neck.
During their next practice Finn did his best to ignore the giant copper-haired junior, though his eyes followed him seemingly without meaning to. He couldn’t help but watch with awe when Lance swam – there was so much raw yet restrained power, so much skill in the exacting m
ovements of his long, muscled body. When Lance pulled himself out of the pool with ease, whipping off his goggles and swim cap, Finn had to hurriedly look away. He thought he felt Lance’s dark grey gaze settle on him, but he couldn’t be sure.
He turned his attention to his friend Sam. He had noticed that Sam’s mood was off today; he seemed quiet and sad, his usual sunny and laid-back demeanour dampened. As they shuffled into the locker room after practice finished, Finn called his name.
“Sam, hey, Sam!”
Sam turned back towards him, blinking slowly.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” He asked with only a shadow of a smile.
“You tell me. You ok?” Finn searched his tall friend’s face. Sam’s smile warmed into something more genuine.
“Yeah, for sure, just lots going on, you know.”
Finn paused, unsure if he should press for details. Finally he nodded.
“Yeah, I get that, for sure. Hey, there’s a Halloween party on campus tomorrow night, you wanna go? Might be a good distraction for... whatever...” He let the sentence trail off, hoping it would encourage Sam to share a little more about what was bothering him. They hadn’t known each other for long, only meeting as freshman at the beginning of this school year, but he liked to think that Sam knew he could trust him.
Sam appeared to think about it for a moment, then nodded.
“Yeah, ok, that could be good. Text me the details, ok?” Then he turned to his locker, yanking out his bag.
“You got it,” Finn replied before heading towards the showers, oblivious to the fact that Lance had watched their entire exchange with an expression that could only be described as wolfish.
CHAPTER 5
Lance sipped his beer, scowling as the muddy, flat flavour rolled over his tongue. He thought longingly of the excellent wine collection he had in his apartment and wondered for the hundredth time that night why he had bothered to come. Lance Gallagher did not go to college parties. Lance Gallagher did not drink cheap beer. At least, not until tonight. He sighed, casting his eyes up to the ceiling in irritation as students pulsed in and out of the room around him, laughing and sloshing their drinks, gyrating to the music, some dressed in costumes, some dressed only in what appeared to be lingerie. Lance watched the other occupants of the room with detachment, like a scientist observing from the outside of an experiment, with absolutely no desire to join in.