Better Be Sure: Harrison Campus Book #1

by Andy Gallo

  “Okay, fine.” She patted him on the back and smirked. “But then you really might end up on a mattress in my room.”

  “You’re gonna mix those whites and colors, aren’t you?” The snark in Brittany’s voice sometimes got too much.

  “No, but I only have one basket.” He scooped a second pile of dirty clothes into the white plastic tub. “I’ll sort it out when I get down there.”

  Taking the little leather pouch that contained their laundry quarters, he led the way. His fraternity brothers typically went to dinner as a group, which left the house unusually quiet.

  “Tell me again why I’m waiting for dinner just to watch you wash Marcus’s dirty clothes?”

  “Because a) you made us late and we missed going with our friends so we’ve only got each other to eat with, and b) this will only take a minute.” Turning to face her, he used his ass to push open the door. “Unlike back home, we don’t have to trek over to the creek and beat them over a large stone. Here we use an au-to-matic washing machine.”

  She snickered and held the door for him. “Oddly, I can see barefoot hillbilly Jackson and Marcus washing their clothes in the crick. Kinda like you’d be Huckleberry Finn and Marcus would be Tom Sawyer.”

  Sorting the clothes into the two machines, he laughed at the image. “That sounds about right.”

  Jack had just slid the last set of quarters home when the door swung open, hitting Brittany in the head.

  “Hey, watch it!” she said.

  Seth stopped in his tracks. “Oh, sorry—” The door swung back. “Ow!”

  Jack pulled the door open. Seth’s bag had fallen and the contents spilled across the floor. Seth rubbed his knuckles.

  Trying hard not to laugh, Jack bent down to help his friend. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, fine. Just surprised to see anyone here.” Putting his stuff back in his bag, Seth looked disappointed. “I left dinner early, hoping to get here before everyone else.”

  “Sorry,” Jack said. He wasn’t really. Catching the machines took planning and a bit of luck. “But if you want, I’ll leave my quarters and you can toss my stuff in the dryer. You’ll be next for sure.”

  Seth’s green gaze lit up as he glanced from Jack to Brittany. Hurriedly, he drew the drawstrings on his bag and stood. “Really?”

  Jack handed him six coins, a couple more than necessary, just in case. “It’s not like I’ve got anything secret in there.”

  He stared at the money for a moment. “Um… can you watch my stuff for a minute?”

  “Sure.” Jack took Seth’s laundry bag and put it on the washer.

  “I’m going to go get my books. I can study until your stuff is done.”

  Seth didn’t wait for Jack to comment. With another hurried look toward Brittany, he blushed and twisted on his heel.

  “He’s cute.” Brittany craned around him. “A bit skinny, but he looks like he has a nice butt.”

  “Leave him alone, Brit.”

  “What?” The innocent look she gave him didn’t work.

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  She opened her mouth to answer, but shut it again. They gave each other the evil eye until Seth returned, rounding the corner, backpack over his left shoulder. “Thanks, Jack.”

  “Anytime.” Jack stepped to his right to block Brittany’s view. Of course it didn’t stop her from trying to peek over his shoulder. “I should be back before the dryer is done.”

  “No worries,” said Seth with a shy, dimpled smile. “I’ll be here.”

  Jack propelled Brittany out of the room. “He’s so….”

  “Innocent?” Jack raised an eyebrow to stress his answer.

  “I was going to go with boyishly sweet.”

  “Don’t you remember what happened the last time you dated someone from the house?” He started to turn, but jumped back when he saw the slap coming. “Besides, he’s not ready for you. You’ll chew him up and spit him out.”

  “More like I’d rock his world.”

  They stepped into the waning daylight, and he wished he’d remembered a sweatshirt. “Seth’s a nice guy, a bit goofy, but also naïve. Find someone else.”

  “You think he’s still… you know—” She looked back toward the door. “—a virgin.”

  “Brittany, stop.” He waited until she faced him. “Seriously. I thought you were through dating anyone from the fraternity?”

  “No, you decided that.”

  “Maybe because you blamed me for letting you date Harper.” Jack shook his head. “I don’t need you mad at me again because someone else is an asshole.”

  “You just said he was a nice guy.”

  “He is….”

  “Then what’s down your shorts that has you so itchy?”

  Jack closed his eyes to regain his composure. “I used to think Harper was a nice guy, too, until… until…. And we both know how accurate my assessment was of Kieran.”

  “Not every guy is a jerk.” She stared at him and shook her head. “You can’t paint everyone with the same brush.”

  “Wasn’t it Cher who said, ‘Don’t shit where you eat’?”

  “No, Jack. It wasn’t.” Brittany held out her hand. “I’m going to need your gay card.”

  “What?”

  “Cher was in the movie, but she didn’t say that. The mother did.”

  “Whatever.” He wasn’t sure what pissed him off more—the fact he tried to live down to the gay stereotype or that Brittany called him on his mistake. “The point’s the same.”

  “So you don’t want me to date anyone in your fraternity?” Her gaze told him she’d tossed down the gauntlet.

  “No, but like I said, he’s a nice guy. I know what’ll happen if you chase him. He’ll follow you like a little puppy, and when you’re done, he’ll be crushed. I’m not saying don’t get to know him, but do it because you like him or don’t do it at all. He’s not like Billy. He won’t be okay with a hookup for his first time.”

  They glared at each other for a few seconds until she nodded and turned away. “Okay, fair enough. Now can we go eat?”

  “Sure.” He wasn’t sure she meant it, but he knew she wasn’t cruel.

  He’d get Marcus to help keep an eye on things.

  Ed: Study group got cancelled. How’s messing with the boys?

  Jack: Boys are busy studying.

  Ed: Including you?

  Jack: Is that your way of asking if I’m free?

  Ed:…. Are you?

  Jack: Well, I have an early start tomorrow, but….

  Jack drove into the empty Barnes and Noble parking lot. Ed’s pickup was parked in a far corner next to an ivy-choked wall.

  He double-flicked his headlamps as he drove over. Ed climbed out of his car and leaned against the passenger side, thumbs shoved into his pockets. He wore an open leather jacket against the night chill, and his lips curved as Jack parked in the space beside him.

  Light spilled over the fence from the streetlamps.

  Jack closed his door and leaned back against his Jeep, mirroring Ed. Nervous laughter threatened to make a fool of him. “Third meet up in two days, Ed.”

  The underlying question did not go unnoticed.

  Ed sifted a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I….”

  “It’s okay,” Jack said quietly. “You can say it.”

  One step forward and Ed closed the distance between them. His voice was cautious, low. “Can I say it like this?”

  Jack frowned, brain scrambling to figure out where the space between them had gone and what he should focus on first. The light breath tickling his chin, Ed’s lashes as he glanced at his mouth, the soft sound of Ed swallowing.

  Cool fingers gently touched Jack’s face.

  Heart racing, Jack licked his lips, and Ed’s lips followed. His warm, minty mouth pressed softly against Jack’s bottom lip.

  Jack had kissed guys before, but it was clear after only a second with Ed’s lips on his that he’d never felt one quite like this.
At the bare brush of the skin, electricity shot through him. It buzzed at his neck, the base of his spine, even the backs of his knees.

  Jack gasped into the kiss, and Ed pressed their lips more firmly together, the bow of his lip begging Jack to suck it.

  Jack opened his mouth and greedily accepted Ed’s demands. Jack’s tongue danced over his top lip, and Ed joined in. The moment their tongues touched, Jack took over control. He slid his hands over Ed’s cotton shirt under his jacket. The soft material stretched over Ed’s tight stomach and back.

  Jack pushed Ed back against the pickup, deepening their kiss. Ed hummed his approval into the kiss, one hand balling Jack’s shirt, the other kneading the back of his neck. Jack pressed himself against Ed’s warm, solid weight and drank in their kiss.

  It was the best thing he’d ever tasted. He wanted their tongues to slide together like this all night. Wanted to explore how much of this shooting electricity he could take before he melted.

  “Jack,” Ed said when they pulled back, panting for breath. “That was… was….”

  Jack let out a soft laugh. “Yeah. Thank you for telling me like that.”

  Ed rubbed his lips with his knuckle. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it the moment I saw your sticker.”

  “But you’re deep in the closet.”

  “Narnia deep. No one knows.”

  “No one?”

  “No one that matters. There was this guy… but he kept trying to push me to come out before I was ready.”

  Jack eased back against his Jeep. Marcus and Brittany would probably be telling him to run right now. That this could only end in disappointment.

  A fleeting thought of the bet had his stomach twisting too.

  He sucked in his bottom lip and tasted Ed on him. A strange thing, this giddiness that filled his veins and made him want to get closer and closer.

  He should tell Ed he didn’t want to hide.

  Should be prepared to drive out of here as single as he drove in.

  Jack surged forward, gripped Ed’s nape, and hauled him into another frenzied kiss.

  “What was that for?” Ed’s smile tugged at Jack’s chest.

  “My way of asking if you still want to get something to eat.”

  Ed looked into his eyes. “It’s a date.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Here?” Brittany looked over her shoulder at the run-down café, then back at Marcus and Jack. “This is where you wanted to go for coffee?”

  Marcus shrugged and beckoned them inside. “All proceeds go to charity or something. Just thought we’d try it for a change.”

  “C’mon, Brit, where’s your sense of adventure?” Jack flashed his brother a wink. Why Marcus wanted to come here, he didn’t know—but he had his back. “I’m tired of the one by campus anyway, time for something different.”

  “Whatever, but if I get sick….”

  Jack put his arm around his best female friend. “You’ll be fine. Do you really think my uptight brother would take us to the hepatitis house?”

  “I’m not uptight,” Marcus growled. Grabbing some menus from the counter, he led them across the mostly empty room to a corner table. He pulled back a high-backed, velvet-cushioned chair and plunked himself on it, chucking his bag on the floor next to him. Brittany followed suit, taking the wooden stool to his left.

  Jack took the long route to the seat in the corner, scanning the entire place before settling in. “This place is… eclectic.”

  “Whoa, big word there.” Brittany rolled her eyes at him. “Do you even know what it means?”

  He sneered at her, pretending to laugh. “Of course I do. It’s the politically correct synonym for nothing matches.”

  Marcus snickered, drawing a sideward glance from their friend.

  “That just might be the gayest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Brittany said.

  “I’m working on it.” He mouthed the word “hag” to his brother. Three times Marcus managed to stifle a laugh, but when Brittany exhaled loudly, he lost his control.

  “You two are children, you know that?” Burying her face in the menu, she pretended to read. When she looked up, Jack gave her his saddest face. Deciding he might need to move closer, he saw the hint of smile blossom into a wider one. Shaking her head, she put down the menu. “How can I stay mad when you look so damn cute? If only you weren’t gay.”

  “Crap.” Marcus covered his face with both hands. “Now he’s going to be on about how girls think he’s cute too.”

  Brittany twisted in her chair, craning her neck all around. “Okay, I’ll admit this place is cool. And it says here that 20 percent of all profits go to the campus’s women’s group and the local battered women’s shelter. Where’d you hear about this, Marc? More importantly, why did you want to come here?”

  “Dunno. Somewhere.” Jack noticed Marcus flicking his thumb, something he only did when he was uncomfortable. There was a story here, but he’d wait to ask.

  “So, Brit.” Rather than let his brother squirm, he drew attention to himself. “Got any good suggestions on where to take Ed for dinner?”

  “Oh yeah, when’s your next date?” She flicked a loose dark curl as if Marcus were invisible to her.

  Jack hoped his smile would be mistaken for him thinking about Ed and not how well his plan worked. “Tomorrow. I was hoping for tonight, but he has class.”

  “You have to choose a place this time, huh?” Her eyes glazed over, and a dreamy smile dimpled her cheeks.

  Marcus snorted. “Yeah, Jack, whatcha gonna do? Feed him grapes and recite a poem?” Brittany hardened her stare at him and suddenly Marcus yelped. “What’d you do that for? And damn, your heels are lethal. Shit. I have a lacrosse game tomorrow.”

  From behind Marcus came a soft chuckle. Jack glanced back. A girl a couple of tables down had her head bowed into a book, a grin stained on her face. Jack turned back to Marcus, noticing his gaze snap away from the girl.

  “We need some drinks!” Marcus said hurriedly. “Where’s the waitstaff?”

  Brittany tapped the menu. “It says you have to order at the counter.”

  “Right, what do we want? I’ll grab ’em.”

  Jack watched Marcus snake to the counter. Something about him was off, but he couldn’t place it.

  “You could take him to that independent theater….” Brittany’s voice drew his attention from Marcus.

  “Just dinner. I need a good restaurant to take him to.”

  “What’s wrong with the usual places?”

  “First—” Jack pressed his two index fingers together. “—I don’t have a ‘usual date place’ to take him to. Kieran and I never did more than pizza or wings. And second, he’s so not a chain restaurant kind of guy. He took me to that totally cool diner. It was in east donkey fuck, but it was a local place. And last night to a small pub that had authentic English food. I know I’m kinda lame in the romantic department, but I want to try anyway.”

  “That’s… sweet.”

  No one served Marcus, so he hit the bell. There was a scraping of wood against wood as a chair slowly pulled back. Head-in-a-book girl sauntered over, with quite the attitude in each step.

  Marcus’s posture straightened as the girl ducked behind the counter. Her hair—blonde, sharply cut, shorter in the back than the front—swished as she shook her head.

  “What do you want, Reynolds?”

  Reynolds? Clearly they knew each other, but by the sound the girl’s tone, they probably weren’t friends.

  “Oh, you’re working now?” Marcus said. “I just thought you had no friends, sitting there with your book and laughing to yourself.”

  Whoa, Marcus. What was up with that?

  The room was small enough that it was easy to overhear them. Brittany stopped talking when they spoke too.

  Brittany huddled closer. “Who’s she?”

  “No clue.” He kept his attention on his brother and the waitress.

  “Well, it seems like I was having a better time t
han you were. Say, how’s your foot?”

  From how tense his brother was, Jack braced himself for the retort. “Just two espressos and a latte, without the attitude, please.”

  Marcus stormed back, dropping hard onto his chair. Watching the waitress start their order, Jack leaned closer. “Okay, bro, who’s that and what’s up with you two?”

  “I’ve told you about her before. That’s Vanessa, Satan’s daughter.”

  “Right.” Her.

  “You into her?” Brit asked.

  “Hell no. I just want to shake her until all words have rattled out of that beautiful mouth. I mean, big mouth.”

  Brittany looked to Jack, confusion etched in her brow.

  “Vanessa is in Marc’s philosophy class,” Jack said. “Every time he comments in class, she pipes up, taking the opposite side. He’s convinced she only does it when he speaks.”

  “She does,” Marcus said.

  Brit glanced over at Vanessa behind the counter. “She’s sorta edgy. I would have guessed that to be your type.”

  He huffed. “She seems off-balance to me. She only paints her fingernails on one hand and always tilts this little cap thing she wears to the same side. It’s like with one flick of the finger, you could topple her over. Which, believe me, I’ve thought about doing. More than once.”

  Jack studied his brother. He almost never noticed this much detail, even on girls he liked. Of course, painted nails on one hand was different enough for anyone to remember.

  “Are you sure you don’t need better arguments?”

  Marcus scowled at Brittany’s question.

  “Please. She’s never proved me wrong, just takes the opposite position. Most times, the professor agrees with both of us.” Checking around behind them, Marcus lowered his voice. “Plus she finishes with this stupid bite of her lip, as if she’s suddenly worried she got the answer wrong.”