by Anyta Sunday
“It’s Syd.” “Sorry, are you there already? I’m on my way.” Trey kept to my slow pace, standing so close to me that one false step would have us banging shoulders. “No. No, it’s not that. Would you be annoyed if I rain checked this run?” A tiny bit of disappointment thread in my stomach. “Nah, that’s fine.” Subtly, I veered away from Trey, but he mimicked my steps like we were joined at the hip or something.
I concentrated on Syd’s voice. “It’s just I think I met someone. He only has time for a coffee right now though, and I don’t want to let this one slip. He’shawt.” Then in a quieter tone he added, “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. We’ll have lunch. Twelve, the cafeteria.”
Then he hung up. “So you and Syd aren’t a thing then?” Trey said lightly. “Would you mind not listening to my phone calls?”
His grin widened. “I can’t help it, sorry.” We walked a few more steps. “But you guys aren’t then, right?”
“No, we’re not. We decided we’d get on better as friends.”ing Trey put on a pained expression. “Ouch. How did you take him telling you that?”
I stopped. “What makes you think he was the one to say anything?” “So it wasn’thim.” He cocked his head to the side, his eyes searching mine. There was something in them that prickled my insides. “Why’dyoutell him then? You seemed right happy about “getting to know him pretty good” if I remember clearly.”
I turned from him and strode the last few meters into our dorm. Once inside, Trey landed an arm around my shoulders. “Really am sorry for eavesdropping, man. I’ll,” he hesitated, “try not to butt in any more, okay?”
I barely registered his words, as my body soaked up the heavy warmth of Trey’s arm on me. His hand flicked as he spoke and I could make out tiny blond hairs over it. His fingers were long and slender, and I fought the image of sucking them.
I ducked away from his touch using the excuse to open the room. “You still going for a run?” Trey said inside, shucking off his t-shirt. “I think I’ll come with.” He scrunched his shirt and chucked it into a dirty clothes pile at the side of his bed. I’d thought him being such a slob would help me get over this thing with him, but all it did was heighten my want. His clothes piled up were covered in his sweet scent, and, well, I might have buried my head in it more than once.
I yanked open my drawer and pulled out my running gear trying not to look at him. “Does it ever cross your mind to ask? Maybe I prefer to run alone.”
Trey laughed, and as he did I peeked at him again. His toned body mocked my control as my dick stirred. Fuckityfuck.
“But I know that’s not true. You were going to go with Syd.” Trey unzipped his jeans, hooked his thumbs at the waist and pulled them off.
My gaze darted to Trey’s red boxer-briefs and my breathing quickened. Except for that thin material I was staring at a personally tailored wet dream. He moved to his drawers and bent over, his ass jutting out like a fucking ripe apple ready to be plucked. With my running gear in hand, I zipped out of our room without saying a word—what would I say anyway, right?—and changed in the bathroom.
When I got back to the room, Trey was thankfully ready. I placed my folded clothes on the end of my bed. “Okay then,” I said, “let’s run, but I’mnotgoing slow for you, or anything.”
Trey raised a brow and laughed. “You are so funny.”
With that I stormed out, Trey close at my heel. As soon as we got outside I started jogging, and five minutes in I stopped to do some stretches. After, I continued at a brisker pace. Trey lopped beside me, grinning. “Thank god. I was seriously afraid you thought that was fast.”
“Oh baby,” I said, increasing my speed, “this is nothing.” One part of me wanted to halt as I realized I’d just called Trey, baby. Instead I pushed myself praying he hadn’t noticed or didn’t care anything of it. I wanted so bad to lose Trey from my side, but each time I increased my pace, Trey matched it.
Forty minutes into the run, sweat dribbled onto my lashes, blurring my vision. Lifting my t-shirt, I gave my forehead a quick wipe. Trey, on the other hand, barely looked red. I started to turn off the street and into the campus, but Trey running on my inside, wouldn’t let me. “Let’s keep going straight,” he said.
Breathing heavily, I grunted. Sure why not? It would lengthen the run, but hell, I could handle it. Or I sure would with Trey next to me.
I pointed to a brick path running parallel to the street, but lined either side with trees. It looked much nicer to run there. “Why not there?” I puffed when Trey purposefully ignored a turn off toward it.
“I just don’t like brick paths, okay?” he said, and I was glad to hear he was breathing a bit harder now.
“You mean to run on? I think concrete is just as ba fad for you.” Trey didn’t say anything, and I was beginning to get suspicious. Surely he didn’t mean—did he? I smiled inwardly (it was an evil grin, actually), and suggested to Trey we cross the road and go past the bookstore and museum.
Once we reached the other side Trey stopped still, staring at the two brick paths and whitening. What the fuck? I stopped next to him, using the time to stretch as I asked, “What’s up?”
Trey waited until I stood up and met my eye. “You brought me here on purpose didn’t you?”
I couldn’t deny it, I just—“Why don’t you like brick paths?” “Fuck it, Shane,” he said in a deep, really scary, voice. I stepped back. He looked over my shoulder, and I could see him struggling, his fists pumping at his side, and his eyes watery. Guilt for leading him here washed through me. This giant looked so fucking vulnerable, I had a hard time not to wrap my arms around his waist and comfort him. Shit. What had I done?
Trey took a deep breath. “I can’t step on a crack. I—I just can’t do it.” I looked at him hard, noting his drawn brows, and glazy eyes as if he were reliving a memory. A need to comfort him overtook me and I patted his arm. “Okay, fine. Let’s just go back.”
Without say another word we jogged across the street. After ten minutes, we turned a sharp corner and a bike almost collided into me. I jumped to the side as it shot past us, hitting Trey’s side and losing my balance. I would have fallen, but Trey gripped my waist holding me steady while yelling at the biker to watch where he was going.
“You alright?” he asked, spinning me around and checking if I had any obvious injuries. I nodded and he let me go. We continued running, and I silently thanked the biker for being an idiot. One, because I had Trey’s very hot hands on me, and two, because it broke the tension I’d created before.
A smirk touched Trey’s lips as he glanced at me. “What?” I asked. “Want to race?”
I gave Trey a once over. This guy had a long stride, he was bound to be fast, but so was I. Especially when it came to sprinting. I was very sure I’d be able to ah—give him arun for his money on this one.
I grinned at him. “Once we pass the elephant statue it’s a go, all the way back to the dorms.”
“Okay,” Trey said, “And whoever wins gets to make a demand of the other.” My mind reeled with things I could demand Trey to do— things that would make it easier to keep him out of my way. Nothing concrete came to mind when we passed the elephant statue and we both set out to a sprint.
I was surprised Trey could move so fast. I’d anticipated his long stride, but hadn’t thought he’d be able to move his muscles that quick. Flat out, I kept up to him. Fifty yards to the dorms I knew I’d lost. I had no more in me for the extra ompfto beat him, and Trey had. He slammed his palms against the doors two yards in front of me. “Shiiiiiiit,” I cursed, my lungs burning. I hit the side of the building, ignoring Trey’s wide grin. How could he not be totally puffing right now? Well, okay, he was puffing a bit, but it was nothing compared to me. I was tempted to curl into a ball, that’s how much my body ached. It’d been more intense and longer run than usual.
Trey slapped my ass. “Come on, let’s stretch.” My sweaty backside relished the slap, even though I knew all it meant was‘nice job, you did good.’<
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After we stretched, we headed back to our room. I undid my shoe lace, where I’d threaded the key, and opened up. Once inside, Trey flopped onto the floor, sprawling his limbs in every direction. I placed my sneakers on the rack, and peeled my socks off, feeling so much better. I stepped over Trey’s extended leg and arm to get to my drawers, but before I could get there, he snagged my ankle. “We should run together more often.”
He loosened his grip and moved his hands to my foot, electricity shooting through my hairs. “Fuck you have fat toes.”
I ripped my foot from his grasp and moved so he couldn’t stare at them anymore. I knew my toes were ugly. Didn’t need confirmation of it, though. I hated my toes. Worse, I hated feeling self-conscious about them.
“Oh, hey,” Trey said, quickly picking up on my mood— although slamming my drawers might have clued him in. “Chill man. Your fat toes are cute.”
That made me move even faster than before. I grabbed a towel and wash-bag. My fat toes are cute?Was he taking the piss?
“I’m going to shower,” I said, and left the room. I placed my clothes on the bench and hopped into the end cubicle. At first I had the temperature luke-warm, but soon I turned it up a notch. The door to the showers opened, and heavy feet slapped across the tiles. “Heya Shane,” Trey called and started the shower next to mine.
I grunted in response, and Trey began humming a tune. In places it got quite high pitched and I chuckled silently. But after half a minute, the song bugged me because the title was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t place it. Finally I had to ask, “What’s that you’re humming?”
“Ohh, ahh,” he paused a moment, and I thought I could detect embarrassment in that silence. “Scarborough Fair,” he finished, quietly.
Oh right. I replayed the tune in my head—having one of those ahhhh moments, where things just click in place. The fact Trey hummed it, was sort of a turn on, and I was semihard. I ignored it of course and began washing my hair. “My mom used to sing it to us as kids, before—” There was something sad in his voice, and I found myself waiting for him to finish. “Ah, dammit. Man, could I use some of your shampoo?”
I grabbed the bottle and reached it to the top of the cubicle to pass it over the wall, when Trey simply opened my door. In the buff (of course). He smiled and held a hand out for the bottle. In shock, time seemed to slow, and I took longer to move. As soon as I’d noticed him, I’d averted my gaze, but Trey wasn’t shy at all, and made no attempt to disguise the fact he was checking me out. I wasn’t ashamed of myself, in fact, (other than my toes) I felt pretty damn good about my body. I kept in shape—didn’t have major abs, but the muscle was defined enough, and I had a nice dick that liked to lean slightly to the left. But even though I was happy with what I had, having Trey size me up still sent heat rushing to my ears.
As if time snapped back to its proper pace, I slapped the shampoo bottle into Trey’s hand and turned my back to him.
“Thanks, man,” he said. Was his voice slightly croaky? We finished our showers in silence. I waited until Trey had left before I got out and dressed. Then I went back to my room.Nervously.Because while my head screamed at me to think up an excuse to get away from Trey, the rest of me wanted to spend more time with him. And after the brick path incident, and Scarborough Fair, I was, well,curious.
In the room, a still only towel-clad Trey greeted me. My eyes skipped around, looking anywhere but at him. I grabbed my guitar and sat on the end of my bed.
Just before I started strumming, Trey spoke, “So, I have a real fine bottle of whiskey here.” I looked at him, at the cheeky grin cornering his lips, and I knew exactly what would be coming next. I internally groaned. “And I do believe,” Trey continued, “as my winning right, I have one demand available…”
Chapter Six
WARM, SLIGHTLY DIZZY, and more than a bit tired, I smiled at Trey sitting on the floor across from me. I drained the last drop of whiskey from my fifth glass, and eyed up the half bottle next to Trey’s jiggling knee. We had oed n some pop channel, it wasn’t my favorite music, but it was tolerable and a compromise. By the looks of Trey’s knee though, he more than thought it was “okay”.
“You want another one, man?” Trey asked. “Gimmie your glass then.” I passed it over, and Trey’s fingers touched mine as he took it from me. I looked from my hand to Trey who was staring at me with the slightest of frowns. “What?” I brushed a hand over my smooth cheeks expecting crumbs from the cookies we’d gobbled.
Trey poured me another shot. “You really don’t look or act anything like your sister. Except for this little squirm thing you do. June does that too.
My mind was too fuzzy to think properly, and the way Trey said ‘squirm’ made me laugh. “Yeah, we do that when we’re nervous or uncomfortable.” Then, because my inhibitions were on hiatus—thank you whiskey—I added, “Think it’s cute like my toes?” And then, because I wasn’t so drunk I couldn’t register embarrassment (unfortunately), I quickly covered it by saying, “Jeez, you two must have been together like three years now. You two are really in love, huh?”
Okay, so it was possible I might have also been fishing here, but—but—damn alcohol and crazy hormones! Trey nodded. “Yep. Almost three years, and yeah, I do love her. I love her a lot,” he frowned and avoided my gaze, “it’s just—” He stopped and shook his head. “You want to go for a walk?”
“Sounds great. But fuck, I don’t know how good my legs are working.” Trey grinned, jumped up, and in one graceful movement pulled me off the floor. I clumsily stepped forward, losing my balance as I tried to avoid knocking over the whiskey bottle. With one yank in his direction, Trey stabilized me; our bodies pressed together, only jeans and t-shirts separating us. I could feel his warmth as if it had hands and were embracing me. If I rested my head against him, it would fit perfectly under his chin. “Don’t worry, you can lean on me.”
“Dammit, why’d you have to say that?” I said, and Trey gave me a puzzled look. I cracked a smile. “Now that song is in my head.”
It took him a moment to click, but as he did he grinned. Did he look relieved? “You’re so lame, you know that?” “I am not!” Okay I was, but he didn’t have any right to say it. I pulled out of his grip, and ignoring my lightheadedness grabbed the keys and left the room, with Trey at my heel. The hall loomed ahead dimly lit, and I struggled to walk straight.I did—but it took extra effort on my part. As I stepped outside, a cool breeze sidetracked me, and—“oh shit!” I cried as I stumbled.
“Watch the step there, man,” Trey said, way too late and with a chuckle in his voice. I pushed myself off the concrete. I didn’t feel any pain, although my palms were grazed. “Well now, how stupid was that?”
“Very, now let’s keep moving.” Trey tugged my arm and off we went across the parking lot and down the road until we reached a large sports ground surrounded by tall narrow trees. Poplars?
I shook my head, and concentrated on the feel of the wind blowing back my hair. Funny how I didn’t feel chilled at all, yet it refreshed me, helping me sober up. Not completely, but enough. I pointed to a field of artificial turf, lit up with floodlights. “I signed up for hockey, at the end of last week. I’m looking forward to getting back into it.”
“What team did you join with?” “Social A team.” Trey smiled. “Me too.” “What? When did you sign up?”
“Well,” Trey said, moving closer, “if you’d been around at all last week, or read any of my notes, you’d know.” “Oh.” This was awkward. Did he know I’d been avoiding him? I looked at the field, totally aware of Trey staring at me.
“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he said, taking my hand and leading me across the gred ass field. “But I have to say, I’m glad to be on your team and not against you. We’ll kick some major ass together.”
His words brought back the memory of that hockey final, sophomore year. I suppressed a shudder, and ignored the slither of fear that came with it. Why had he done it? Did he ever think abou
t it? Feel bad about it.
A still angry part of me wanted to break contact with him— but it was harder to do than I thought, because my hand nestled in his felt pretty much perfect, like it belonged there or something. And, I mean—whoa, was this normal drunken behavior? He was holding my hand! I stopped moving, frowning at our hands before quickly pulling mine away, thoughts whirling through my mind.
He faced me, frustration evident on his face. “What?” I straightened my back, and concentrated on his broad right shoulder. “I’m just…I mean… Doesn’t it bother you being around me? Touching me? I mean you know I’m gay.” Although he already knew it, it still made me nervous to say.
“No,” Trey said almost staunchly. “It doesn’t.” I looked up to search his expression for sincerity or something, but he averted his gaze. After a moment, he coughed, and spat on the grass. “Let’s head back, man. It’s getting cold.”
After walking the long way back (we were avoiding the brick paths), it’d just passed midnight. Since the sports ground, Trey hadn’t touched me once, and I missed the contact. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’d made him think about it now. Or maybe he thought I didn’t like it and was just respecting that? God I hoped…so, or not? I shook my fuzzy head as if it would bring me some sense and clarity. No such luck.
Back in our room, I did a drunken clean up, chucking the rubbish in the bin and moving the whiskey onto Trey’s side table. Then, exhausted, I made a quick trip to the bathroom before stripping to my boxers and sliding under the bed covers.
Trey flicked off the lights and his bed groaned as he jumped in. I tried to get comfortable to sleep, but—do I have to spell this out? Trey was right there and awake.
“Shane?” he whispered, and I flipped onto my back. “Yeah?” “Can I ask you something?” You already are.“Sure.” “It’s personal.” I hesitated. “Uh, okay?” He took a deep breath. “How did you know?”
I stiffened and exhaled slowly. I was pretty sure I knew what he meant, but just in case--“Know what?”