As I followed Lucas to the staircase, my brain seemed to catch up to what was happening, leaving me momentarily panicked. I paused. Am I really doing this? Me? The rise and fall of Lucas’ steps and the spellbinding bounce of his ass steadied my nerves, and suddenly I was poised to take the first step toward the most outrageous thing I’d ever done.
At that moment, Lucas glanced back and delivered a filthy challenge with nothing more than a smile and a wink. I missed the step and gripped the handrail to keep from falling on my ass again.
With an amused laugh, Lucas backtracked, took my arm then slid his fingers down my forearm and laced them with mine. “Careful,” he smiled and squeezed my hand.
He led me with more confidence than any man had a right to own toward the private study rooms that flanked the outer wall on the second floor of the library. Before I could warn him that the rooms would be booked solid so close to midterms, he stopped and flung open the door. “I reserved this last week,” he said, gestured me inside and closed the door behind us.
The room was small, scarcely large enough to hold the table and four chairs. I studied the carpet pattern, intricate geometric shapes on a black background. It was old and slightly musty, as though the carpet hadn’t dried after the last cleaning.
“Kyle.” Lucas’ voice was just above a whisper, but commanding nonetheless. “Come here.”
I swallowed again and gathered the words to explain how out of character our little rendezvous would be for me, but Lucas’ cockiness had turned predatory, and storm clouds settled over his ocean-blue eyes. Physically he was almost too perfect to be real. At the first step toward him my knees buckled and he took hold of my waist and deftly moved me. Once again, I fell dumb.
A thud resounded from the table I found myself crowded against. Startled, I twisted. Lucas swept my bookbag and tossed it on the floor next to his. He latched on to my chin, edged me back until the table dug into my thighs and, for lack of a better word, took ownership of me. Jesus! I am not a small guy, but Lucas had a presence I could never fully explain, and the way he kissed me lit me on fire—full-fledged ‘take-me-now, holy shit, what is happening’ fire.
I freed my mouth long enough to draw a deep breath, squeezed my eyes shut and recited the alphabet backward—in my head, of course, because it had been a while. And, well…I refused to be that guy. Sometime around M or Q—who can say the alphabet backward, anyway?—I opened my eyes. Lucas moved down my neck, and slid his hands under my shirt. My pulse raced and my chest pounded so hard that I briefly considered I might be in the midst of a heart attack. It was too much, and I gripped his hips and tried to signal my desire to slow it down a bit.
Lucas paused and appraised me. The intensity in his eyes stole my breath. And not in a good way. He looked, not angry, but different. “Isn’t this what you had in mind?”
I nodded, not knowing what about the last thirty minutes had given him the impression I held any capacity for rational planning.
“So, this is the fantasy then? Is this what I owe you?” His dark tone was far more biting than seductive, as though we were role-playing but with two different scripts. He resumed kissing me, aggressively sucking on a spot low on my neck and kneading my ass in a desperate, almost painful way I loved. I tried to close my eyes and enjoy it until he bit my earlobe hard and muttered something else about not wanting to disappoint me.
“Hey, wait.” I summoned all my self-control and stopped his fingers from unzipping my fly. Another uninterpretable comment about giving me what I expected accompanied his hand shoved down the back of my pants. I reached behind me and stilled his wrist. “Wait,” I snapped.
“What’s the matter? Can’t stay hard under pressure?” He jerked away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a perplexed expression under it.
“No, I’m plenty hard but confused as hell.” I searched him for clues. “I was kidding when I said you owe me. This is… Wait… Is that what you’re doing with me?”
Lucas gave a noncommittal shrug and reclaimed the air that separated us. The sweet kisses along my neck made my insides swim, but something was still off. He moved to my lips and dialed up the aggression to a ten again. The fog of hormones cleared, and my erection wilted with the way Lucas kissed me—like a roadblock he had to remove. I stayed him gently, straightened my untucked and half-unbuttoned shirt and regained composure. My balls groaned in protest, but Lucas’ weird vibe had clicked my real brain back on.
“Seriously, I’m attracted to you, but I… Shit, I’m sorry. I think we’ve had a misunderstanding. You don’t owe me anything, and I have no expectations of you. I would never take advantage like that.”
His dumbfounded gawking did not provide the assurance I’d hoped for. I was quite sure he never got turned down, especially not by a guy like me, but even I wasn’t pathetic enough to accept a pity fuck for an apology.
“Um, it was nice to meet you, Lucas.”
Bewildered and acutely aware of the protest formed in my now-twice-insulted testicles, I left the private enclave. With barely an hour of study time, I gingerly took a seat at one of the small tables in the open section of the second floor, hauled my algebra book out and reviewed my notes, my concentration on par with an attention deficit child left in an arcade after downing a triple espresso and eating their weight in cotton candy.
My scribbled notes about linear inequalities were less confusing than what happened next. Someone joined my table uninvited. I glanced up long enough to confirm my suspicions. The sexy smirk on Lucas’ lips told me I’d fallen short of my intended subtlety. Annoyed and embarrassed, I gave him my full attention and projected as much confidence as I could muster. Yes, hot men always approach me in the library.
“I want to ask you a question and your answer will have everything to do with our future.”
Our future? I nodded, although, again, clueless.
He continued, “Before today, had you ever seen me?”
“Do you have mental health problems?” I whispered.
He howled so loudly that the students at the other tables aimed dirty looks at us. “Answer me.”
“No,” I whispered, trying to encourage him to lower his voice.
Lucas’ mysterious enthusiasm blossomed. “That’s what I thought.”
Beyond confused, I waited for an explanation that didn’t come. Lucas remained in front of me, a broad, stupid smile still plastered on his face.
I returned my attention to my notes, because even in a parallel universe, I was pretty sure I still had a midterm to take. Lucas continued to stare at me, flabbergasted by my feigned disinterest or perhaps mulling over why he even cared. The silence was laced with an unnerving current of anticipation.
“Okay?” I tossed my pencil down and peered up to meet his eyes. “Was that all?”
“No,” he replied. “Kyle, would you like to have dinner with me? I’d like to make you dinner.”
Either I had been transported to an alternate reality where hot men did ask me out in the library or he was completely fucking with me. The latter seemed more plausible, which annoyed and disappointed me at the same time. With a sarcasm infused, “Yeah right,” and a dramatic eye roll, I dismissed him—or so I tried.
“I’m going to take that as a yes.” He produced an iPhone, tapped at the screen and stared hopefully at me. “Give me your number,” he prompted.
“Are you serious?” I asked.
Lucas nodded, smiling.
“But you don’t owe me anything.”
“I know. I asked you because I wanted to.” He looked around at the students who were now not-so-subtly watching us. Lucas lifted a hand to the side of his mouth and stage-whispered, “It’d be awesome if you didn’t turn me down in front of an audience.” He turned to face the other table, drawing embarrassed laughter from the gawking students.
“Say yes,” a random girl fake-coughed, and about twenty students nodded, adding a chorus of agreement with a few murmured, “He’s hot” and “I’d g
o out with him in a second.”
Lucas turned with an appreciative smile. “See?” Lucas gestured to the girl at the table next to us. “C’mon. Look at her. She has an advanced physics textbook. What’s your name?”
“Monica,” the girl offered with a giggle.
Lucas smiled warmly, “See? Listen to Monica, Kyle. Monica, should Kyle go out with me?”
“If he doesn’t, I will.”
Lucas grinned and gestured, as if to say, ‘See? Monica thinks I’m hot.’
Monica and her entire table stared at me with their breath held, waiting for my answer. What was I supposed to say? The whole exchange was surreal. “Sure, yeah. Dinner is great.” I rattled off my cell number, and a few seconds later, a text message caused my phone to vibrate against the wooden table. I stared at it like the device would explode if I touched it.
Lucas laughed again. “You’re cute, Kyle. Good luck on your test.” He kissed my cheek before leaving and a small smattering of applause broke out. My math studies notwithstanding, I couldn’t have put two and two together to save my life.
Chapter Two
The day of our first date, my body seemed hell-bent on reminding me that men my age had no business going to a college kid’s apartment for dinner. I wasn’t doing anything remotely manly at the time. Nope—bending over to pick up a goddamn piece of litter on the job site of a McMansion is what had me popping Advil like M&M’s. If that weren’t bad enough, my testicles and left thigh displayed seriously unattractive bruising from the calculator.
From the landing of an outdoor metal staircase, I checked the address in my text messages again. Lucas lived on the third floor of an apartment complex with no elevator. I closed my eyes and pictured his abdominal muscles. I hadn’t seen them in the library, but he’d pushed against me, so I could imagine them…vividly. I’m a sucker for abs, and Lucas’ would be worth every bit of the next few minutes. So, with my mind focused on three to four ripples of muscles and a picture-perfect innie belly button I’d surely want to dip my tongue into, I put one foot on the first stair and braced myself for the shooting pain to course up my back. It did, and I winced with each agonizing step.
Loud music greeted me at the top. Was that…? “Fuck,” I muttered.
Dining to Eminem? I couldn’t have pulled that off ten years ago. Lucas would take one look at me and send me packing. I debated options, but I’d climbed the Everest of staircases, so running away held as much appeal as hearing the rejection straight from Lucas’ actual mouth. Before I could decide if pretending to like Eminem would be more or less painful than rolling down three flights of stairs, a door opened. Lucas stood there, holding a large box of cookware. He stuttered hello, clearly surprised to see me.
“Hey, you’re here.”
Panicked, I reached for my phone to check the date and time. “Yes,” I said frantically checking our text messages. “You said Friday at six.” I held up my phone. “It’s five-fifty-nine.”
“Oh. You’re punctual, huh?” He laughed in a way that said my old man ways amused him, like how I laughed when my dad told corny jokes. Is punctual a bad thing now?
“It’s fine. I’ll take this to the dumpster later.” Lucas’ smile eased my anxiety, and he ran his hands through his hair.
“You cut your hair,” I blurted.
He tossed the empty box next to his door and smiled wider. “Yeah, I let it get too long during midterms, but I figured a hot date was a good reason to get my mop cleaned up. Come in, Kyle.” He motioned me inside.
Lucas lived in a standard student apartment. A small family room, dining area and kitchen were visible from the doorway. Toward the back, a short hallway contained two closed doors, which I assumed led to his bedroom and a bathroom. I couldn’t identify dinner by the aroma in the air, but it smelled delicious and heavy on flavors—lemon, garlic and something earthy like mushrooms. I loved a man who could cook, and that realization sent a fluttering of anticipation from my stomach to my heart. I clung to that feeling. I didn’t know how to label it precisely. Potential, maybe? A chance that something beyond the promise of great abs had compelled me to climb Lucas’ stairs.
I had envisioned bean bag chairs and a PlayStation, but Lucas had actual furniture, and any video games were tucked away behind a decent quality entertainment system. Art adorned the uncolored walls—very geared toward gay men, but still, original framed art, not posters, and a few select decorative touches that helped me forget I was in campus housing.
“Would you like something to drink?” Lucas shouted over the music and shut the door behind us.
“What?” I motioned to the stereo speaker, grateful that it drowned out my awkward laughter.
He grimaced, hastened to the coffee table and grabbed a remote control to turn the music off.
He smiled back apologetically. “Drink?” he repeated and led me toward the kitchen. Cookware, still wrapped in plastic, lay on the counter. If he caught the questioning look on my face, he did an excellent job of ignoring it.
“Beer, if you have it.” He plucked out two kinds and offered me a choice. I pointed to the Belgian-style wheat ale from a local brewery and he produced a frosted mug from the freezer and poured it.
“Want an orange slice?” He searched the fridge and located a container. Since he already had them cut, I nodded. Discreetly, I wiped my sweaty palms in my pockets and accepted the drink.
“So how was your test? What was it again?” Lucas asked and grabbed a second beer for himself.
“Oh, fine. The scores aren’t back yet. It’s algebra.”
His nose crinkled, and I chuckled. “Not a math fan?”
“Not my favorite. What are you studying?”
“Mechanical engineering right now. I’m still getting the basics out of the way.”
“Yeah, this was my first year too. I’m a business marketing major, so I have to take accounting courses for my math requirements.” I groaned audibly.
“Something against business marketing?” Lucas chuffed and poured his own beer, twisting the orange slice before tossing the rind into the glass and licking the juice from his fingers.
I hated myself before the words left my mouth. “Should you be drinking that?”
Lucas glanced at his beer, appearing momentarily confused by my question. Suddenly, he clutched his chest with a dramatic gasp. “Are you insinuating I can’t afford the calories?”
A smile. Goddamn, that smile. Wars could have started over it. Also, he was fucking with me again.
“No, I’m insinuating that you’re underage. Well, under twenty-one, anyway.”
“Insinuating or asking, Kyle?” He sucked briefly on his bottom lip.
Obscene. His smile was obscene.
“Um, asking?” I didn’t know. And honestly, his lips mesmerized me.
“You’re in algebra, right?”
I needed to understand the sorcery of his lower lip. He scraped it between his teeth and rewet his lips in slow motion. One perfect freckle dead center. Magical. “Uh-huh?”
“That’s a freshman-level class?”
“Um.” I took a sip and tried to coordinate my throat muscles to swallow, which isn’t as automatic a reflex as one would think.
“Exactly. First year doesn’t mean I’m underage. I’m old enough.”
Not for me, I thought. “For?” I asked instead. I’m only human.
“For whatever….” Lucas shrugged noncommittedly, then for no reason whatsoever, he stepped toward me. His lips crashed into mine, and I gasped. Literally, I gasped into his mouth. He pulled back, and I shook my head.
“What’s wrong?”
“Umm… I can’t… I’m not sure I should….”
“I’m twenty-three, well out of jailbait territory, so relax.”
I shook my head because his age had surprisingly little to do with my reaction. All day I’d been psyching myself up with thoughts of Lucas wanting to get to know me, but that kiss advertised a much different agenda. I am the biggest idiot. Of co
urse, this isn’t an actual date. This is a hook-up. “I’m forty,” I admitted because the rest seemed like a moot point.
Quite sure that would be the end of the evening, I set my beer down and eased back a step with an eye toward the door. I sighed. “Listen. I think I should…”
Lucas’ face fell. “Please don’t go,” he said. “I knew you were older when I invited you to dinner. The age difference doesn’t bother me at all. I’m sorry for launching myself on you. I just… You were staring at my lips. I thought you wanted me to.”
“Oh, um, yeah. It’s fine. Just… I’m not really into hook-ups, so I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. That thing in the library… You should know that was way out of character for me.”
Lucas stepped toward me and cupped my cheek. He focused on my lips with laser precision, but he leaned in slowly and pressed his lips softly to mine. The kiss was nice. Gentle, even. He tasted sweet from the orange. I couldn’t have held back the sigh of relief if I’d tried, thankful that we’d connected on a setting other than raging lust.
He pulled away, smiled and said the words that reassured me enough to stay. “Come sit down with me. I want to know everything about you.” Time seemed to disappear while we talked. Or I guess Lucas asked me questions and I rambled answers in my half-coherent, not-sexy-at-all way.
Dinner wasn’t homemade. I would have gone through with the ruse because—first date and all—but Lucas’ commitment didn’t extend to transferring food from the takeout containers he’d stashed in the oven to the new cookware.
I assured him I appreciated the dinner regardless…and I did. His blush, though… That gift I loved even more. Even if I was the water boy to his starting quarterback, somehow Lucas’ aborted scheme had put us on the same field. That he’d tried to impress me and failed placed him back on earth with us mere mortals, and I started to recognize myself during our interactions.
By the end of our meal, I’d approached an acceptable level of charming, and Lucas had gone from captivating to downright enticing.
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