Boyfriend Material

by K.A. Mitchell

  I don’t know why I felt like I should defend her. Maybe she didn’t know that any of them would want to see me if they’d been so pissed about my dad. She works hard. Two jobs. I had food, clothes, house.

  Yes. Uncle Owen agreed.

  I wished Uncle Owen had given me more than one glass of the wine they’d had. I could really stand some of that warm, fuzzy feeling I’d been enjoying at the beginning of the meal. And here I thought my biggest issue was going to be worrying about what had happened between Blake and Ethan. Ethan I trusted, Blake, not so much. Okay, not at all.

  Uncle Owen picked up Christine’s hand and kissed it, then went back to signing. My fault. Sorry.

  He was looking at me, but I couldn’t figure out why he was apologizing.

  Why?

  My mom carried Waardenburg. I told my sister a baby would be bad. Risk deafness. Not fair. I was angry. Maybe why she hid you.

  I got it. But I didn’t think that was the only reason Mom hadn’t told me about my family. She was angry about a lot of things.

  No, I said. Mom’s angry... “At a lot of stuff.” I said it aloud so if I was getting it wrong he could read my lips or Christine could explain. Angry at me. Stealing. Jail.

  Sorry, he said again. Happy you’re here. He gestured between himself and Christine. No children. Risk not fair.

  That made a lot of sense. If I was straight, I wouldn’t want to risk passing Waardenburg on to a kid. There were other things it could cause besides deafness and white hair.

  I nodded.

  You want children? he asked.

  I couldn’t say no fast enough.

  The panic on my face made Christine laugh.

  You learn fucking in school? Uncle Owen’s expression was intent again.

  God, where was my hoodie when I really needed it? Did my uncle really just say that? What did he think I was studying?

  “Sex education?” Christine suggested.

  I might know fuck and shit and bitch in sign, but condoms and birth control had not come up, not even in two semesters. I finger spelled birth control?

  Yes.

  “Not a problem.” I said it without thinking. Without remembering that Uncle Owen could read lips. And I really couldn’t blame it on one glass of wine.

  Why? he asked.

  I swallowed a spurt of fear. Really, Ethan? You’ve been blurting this out to people for five years?

  It wasn’t just the student loans. I liked Uncle Owen and Christine. I liked the idea of them. Of visiting this house again. But how comfortable was that going to be if I had to lie?

  Uncle Owen made a sympathetic face. No girlfriend?

  No girlfriend. I took a deep breath and brought my hand to my temple to begin the sign. Boyfriend.

  Chapter 6

  When Ethan finally texted to ask if it was a good time to call, I shot off a yes, said good night to Uncle Owen and Christine, and ran upstairs, even though it was only seven thirty.

  “God, it is so good to talk to you. I can’t wait to get back to school.” He sounded like he did just before he ripped up a sheet of calculus problems in frustration.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” But there was enough of a sigh in that answer to make me wonder. “I’ve just had a little too much family time after doing my own thing. At least I can hang out with Makayla tomorrow. Though I’d rather it was you.” His voice did that sexy dip.

  I told myself I wasn’t jealous, but he’d been so upset. “What happened with Blake?”

  He made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “Just Blake being Blake. Acting like he’s the only person who matters. How are things there?”

  Finally. “I told him.”

  “About coming to visit for winter break?”

  I wanted to smack myself in the head with the phone. Sometimes Ethan was the most self-absorbed dick I’d ever met.

  “No. That I’m gay.”

  “You did? Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you? I can leave right now.”

  Of course, that was Ethan too, dropping everything and charging to the rescue.

  “It’s fine. I really don’t think he cares.” After a moment, Uncle Owen had clarified by asking Gay? When I’d nodded, he’d said, Good, no oops baby. I told Ethan, “He’s glad I won’t make any Waardenburg babies.”

  “That’s kind of mean.”

  “No. I understand what he’s saying. If you know your kid is going to have a hard time, it’s selfish to have one.”

  “I don’t know. That’s pretty cold.”

  I needed him to understand that it wasn’t just about theoretical babies. “You don’t live with this. He does.” It was always hanging over me, the idea that I’d go deaf. All the stares. Even the kindest people who walked up and just asked, like I should come with a label. “I live with it.”

  “Well, I’m not going to stop being glad you were born.” Ethan’s indignant tone almost made me smile. “I know things haven’t been easy for you, but I’m really glad you’re here. And part of my life.”

  It was like getting an extra glass of wine, fuzzy warmth spreading out from my belly. How could I argue with that? Why would I want to?

  * * *

  Snow cushioned my steps as I trudged across campus, despite the heavy tread of my boots. Okay, so I might have been stomping out some frustration. Not at the weather. I loved the snow. It muffled the world and kept a lot of people indoors, creating a peaceful escape for those of us who didn’t mind going out in it. But what it also did, here in northwestern Pennsylvania, was come in thick blizzard-like, lake-effect bands. Again, I wouldn’t mind, if I hadn’t spent the last two hours freaking out because Ethan’s charter bus wasn’t back yet. Caring about people obviously just gave life new ways to fuck you over.

  One lousy text after two hours of silence. Hey, finally here. In my room.

  I hadn’t burned off the bad mood by the time I got to the El, stomping and shaking off the snow in the entrance way. I headed up the ramp of the enclosed walkway that bridged the creek and ravine. Between the heavy snow and it being after seven o’clock on the Sunday after Thanksgiving, it was deserted. My boots echoed on the laminated flooring.

  I thudded along with my head down until a familiar “Hey” made me look up.

  Now it was my heart thudding, as stupid as that sounded. The sight of him standing there in his black wool coat chased off all that frustration and left me swallowing back—something—all thick and stuck in my throat. I honest-to-God could see myself jumping at him and wrapping myself around him.

  Five days, not even. God, Reese. Get a grip.

  I didn’t have to jump. His long legs hurried him the rest of the way to meet me, then we were hugging.

  He felt so good, prickly wool shoulder and all. I wasn’t even thinking about it when my hands closed over his ass and, okay, I could totally picture me inside him right then. I ducked my head when he tried to kiss me. With that thought in my head, we’d be putting on a serious show in case anyone walked by.

  After a minute I remembered I was pissed at him. I punched his shoulder. “Hey, would it kill you to send a text?”

  “I did.” He fumbled for his phone under his coat.

  “Yeah, I got that. After I’d been sitting in the lobby of the field house for two hours waiting for your bus.”

  “The—oh.” He looked down. His cheeks were patched red, but that could have been from the wind. “We talked the driver into stopping at the performing arts center first, so those of us from the east campus wouldn’t have so far to go in the snow with all our shit.”

  We? It was easy to imagine Ethan handling that all on his own.

  Then he smiled, and I wanted to back him into one of those windows and kiss him until he was blushing all over
. Fuck, I’d really missed him.

  “You were waiting for me?”

  I glared. I’d probably never be able to smell that field house blend of sweaty wrestling mat and pool chlorine without an anxious weasel of worry chewing at my stomach. Not that those were scents I saw myself getting attached to. “The buses were supposed to be back two hours ago.”

  His grin got wider. “You were worried?”

  “Why the fuck would I be? When the last text I’d gotten said, ‘So much snow and wind it feels like being in a shaken snow globe.’”

  He grabbed my shoulders, still with that bright smile, teeth flashing under the soft white track lights. “You’re crazy about me.”

  How the hell was I supposed to look at that mouth, those eyes and still be pissed? “Fuck you.” It didn’t have much behind it and I didn’t push him away.

  Screw it. I stretched up to kiss him.

  It was a mistake and it was awesome.

  Five days, how could I have missed kissing that much? It wasn’t like I should have gotten that used to it in six weeks. But I had. He tasted familiar. Felt familiar. And exciting all at the same time. His tongue swept into my mouth and I stroked right along it, my senses filled with wet wool and Ethan.

  His hands slid down my back and I pressed in closer. That low pulse of arousal was too good to ignore.

  Echoing voices and laughter worked like a snowball down my back. I jumped away, just before a group of girls came around the curve of the walkway.

  Ethan leaned against a support beam, smiling at them like we hadn’t just about been caught with our hands in each other’s pants.

  “Hi, Ethan,” one of them called.

  “Hi, Jaz.” He waved. When they were out of sight, echoes fading, he pulled me back toward him. “Now this,” he brushed a cold thumb over my mouth, “was worth going outside for.”

  “I’m surprised you managed to overcome the horror.”

  “What’s to like about snow? Cold, wet feet, lumpy unattractive clothes and this,” he tapped his still-styled but damp hair, “does not survive hat hair. How can college not have snow days?”

  I stepped back far enough to look at the soaked to midcalf jeans and kicks. “How can you not have boots?”

  He caught my hands and squeezed them. His bare fingers were freezing, even through my gloves. “In my room somewhere. I might have been in a hurry.”

  I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted to press him up against the windows and kiss and suck and taste. I wanted a triple shot of that Ethan-assurance that things would be okay, even if it was a big ol’ lie.

  Even with my hoodie on, he read the want in my face. “Is your roommate back?”

  “Yeah. Connor?”

  “Yeah,” Ethan sighed.

  Voices came again from the bottom of the ramp. So much for people staying in. Dining halls, student center, lounges. There’d be people in all of them.

  In desperation, I tugged him toward the library side of the El. I knew every quiet, hidden nook in that building. Nothing so secret that we’d get the kind of reunion I knew we both wanted, but at least we could kiss.

  We took the branch of the El that put us on the second floor of the library, near the Academic Success Center. And I got a terrible good idea.

  The ASC was still closed because of the holiday, and even the library was only open noon to nine today. But I worked as an ASC tutor, and I had a key to their office.

  After checking the security camera, I steered Ethan at the wall away from the stacks, then behind the welcome desk and quickly unlocked the office. I pulled him in and pushed him up against the relocked door.

  His jaw dropped. “Isn’t this a little—”

  “Shut up or I’ll start thinking about it too much.”

  I kissed the smile off his face and into my mouth. How did his tongue on mine feel so damned good?

  I worked at the big buttons on his coat.

  “Fuck these fucking clothes,” he murmured against my mouth and we broke apart to strip the outer layers.

  There was one window, next to the filing cabinet, but nothing that looked out into the library. This office was an afterthought, half tucked under the stairs to the third floor. I’d made sure not to switch on the lights and there were no cameras in here, but it was still risky.

  Losing the tutoring job might be the least of my worries if we got caught, but even hearing that in my brain didn’t stop me. I grabbed Ethan again as he was half out of his shirt.

  I slid my hands up underneath the thick material and put my thumbs over his nipples. He gasped and I went in for his mouth again.

  I grew up in a trailer in the mountains of West Virginia. I knew what need was, and I knew the difference between needing and wanting. But I swear, I’d never known what wanting like this was. Wanting something so much it hurt. And it wasn’t just his smile, his tongue against mine, even his body. I wanted everything. I wanted the promise of it. That I could be this. Like him. With him. Happy.

  Something behind him crashed to the floor, followed by a crack and the rush of papers spilling out.

  I glanced down. One of those plastic file sorters had been hung over the door. Fixable. Later.

  I shoved Ethan’s shirt over his head and put my mouth over his chest, tonguing the hard nub. He pressed my head closer, and I sucked, drawing more of his skin in, tasting the different textures. Hard, pebbled, and the crinkle of hair.

  “Ah.” His whisper was harsh. “Should we...” a pause for breath “...pick that up?”

  “After.” I went for his other pec, trying out a graze of teeth.

  The pace of his breathing got faster, rough and rumbling in his throat. I kissed that too, liking the way his breath caught whenever I used my teeth or sucked hard.

  “Damn.” He breathed it out, hot against my ear. “We should spend more time apart if it does this to you.”

  I straightened. It wasn’t quite a handful of snow down my back, but it definitely got a little colder in here. “I didn’t realize I needed to do—” I didn’t want to finish the sentence, but I had to. I tried again. “Sorry I can’t live up to—” Goddamn him.

  “Oh God, no. Shit. No. That’s not what I meant. I am such an asshole.” He squeezed his eyes shut.

  No argument from me there.

  His eyes opened. Glittered in the dark, looking straight into mine. “You are so hot. You turn me on just looking at me sometimes. And I don’t—can’t—fake how hard you make my dick.”

  It had been solid, thick against my hip as we kissed, as I licked his chest and neck.

  “I meant here.” Ethan waved a hand around the dark office. “Before I opened my big stupid mouth, I was so hot at the idea that we were doing it here—plus the way you were going at me, like you’d really missed me—I felt like I’d come as soon as you touched my dick.”

  Ethan’s ability to dig himself a giant hole with his big stupid mouth was something that I should be all-too-familiar with. I’d forgive him for taking a bite out of my ego. In a minute.

  I took a step back. “Prove it.”

  “Huh?”

  “Show me how hard you are.”

  His teeth picked up a trace of the light, but the smile was uncertain.

  I waited, folding my arms across my T-shirted chest.

  Ethan let out a breath and unbuttoned his fly, pulled down his zipper, then put his hands under his waistband and looked at me.

  I’d had a lifetime of practice hiding my expressions. I could certainly keep Ethan from knowing how in over my head I was in this dark little room.

  “Fuck. You definitely had your toppy flakes for breakfast.” Ethan bit his lip and shoved his jeans and boxers down to his thighs.

  His cock was hard, not all the way, but as I stared it tilted toward his stomach m
ore.

  “Wyatt?” The uncertainty in his voice broke me.

  I went to my knees and drew him into my mouth.

  “Oh shit.” Ethan was loud enough to be heard outside the door.

  I pulled off. “Shh.”

  “I know,” he whispered, and then dragged his shirt up into his mouth.

  I rested one hand on his belly, just above his pubes. His muscles jumped. I licked the head, kissed it. Until I’d tried it with Ethan, I never realized a dick in my mouth would feel so good to my own dick. That the bitter salt sliding over the roof of my mouth would make my balls get all full. Before then I’d thought it was something you did so people would do it for you. It wasn’t. It was sex all by itself. That weight, the taste, his skin. Him vulnerable and needy cradled in spit and suction.

  Ethan had this kind of groove on the underside, his dick not round and fat like mine got, but thick like a flattened tube. My tongue on that groove, pointed, rubbing, flicking as I bobbed on him was what made him craziest. And I loved making him crazy.

  His hand brushed my cheek, then both hands, cradling my face, thumbs in my hollowed cheeks. I wanted him to drag me forward, so I could learn how Ethan got down on me so far, but he held me like I was made of crystal, his breath hissing around the cloth in his mouth.

  I could still make out words. It was Ethan after all.

  “Oh shit. So good.” Just a whisper. “God, Wyatt.”

  I put my fingers behind his balls and lifted them, let them roll and shift a little in the sac, stroking the shapes under his skin. So soft. My fingertips grazed the springy hair that got thicker in his crack. He made a sound I’d never heard before, low and strangled.

  It did something to me. Made me want harder. My mouth worked overtime with spit, trying to get more of him past my lips without choking. The fingers on the hand around his shaft were soaked with it. Oh. I could definitely do this. I switched my grip, and worked my middle finger back behind his balls, finding the soft dent, the rim and dip. I pressed into his hole, and his grip tightened on my face.

  His cock hit the back of my throat, and I gagged.

  “Sorry.” He bit off the word.