Out in the Open

by A. J. Truman

  OUT IN THE OPEN

  By A.J. Truman

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2014 by A.J. Truman

  All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy, or transmission in whole or in part of this publication is permitted without express written consent from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either used fictitiously or are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, business establishments, or locales is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by James at GoOnWrite.com Copy editing by Rebecca Weston Formatting by Caitlin Greer

  Thank you to RF, DA, PS for getting this book into shape and to MZ for all your support! And thank you to readers for picking up this book and other fantastic M/M romances. We couldn’t do this without you!

  CHAPTER ONE

  It wasn’t even nine on a Saturday morning, and Ethan Follett found himself surrounded in a sea of lime green. Lime-green Browerton Tshirts. Lime-green shorts. Lime-green bandanas. One guy had his face painted lime green and white; green streaks lined another girl’s hair. Ethan glanced over at his friend Jessica, and her lips pursed with disgust.

  “Game day.” She rolled her eyes.

  They waited at a crosswalk with what seemed like fifty other students, and every single one of them wore lime green.

  “Who are we playing?” Ethan asked. Jessica shrugged. As if either of them would know.

  The girl in front swiveled around, and Ethan got a mouthful of lime green-streaked hair. “We’re playing the Eagles. GOOOOO WHITETAILS!” She and her friends threw up their arms and let out a WOOO! Ethan noticed her sneakers were even dyed lime green. That was dedication.

  “You should come to the student tailgate,” the girl said. She seemed familiar to Ethan, but he couldn’t place it.

  Her invitation tempted him for a second. Even though Ethan had never been to a single Browerton football game, he felt a twinge of excitement knowing it was game day. He shrugged it off as a contact high from his rowdy peers.

  “We have plans,” Jessica said. She grabbed Ethan’s hand and cut in front of the girl as soon as the WALK sign lit up. Ethan tried to flash the girl a half-smile as a thank you, but she was already ensconced with her friends, rattling off school cheers.

  Ethan realized then where he knew her from: freshman orientation last year. They had sat next to each other during one of the sessions and talked about something small-talky. Where they were from, potential major…Ethan couldn’t remember. She had turned out to be one of those students that you saw during orientation and then didn’t see again until graduation. Or, in this case, a busy intersection.

  Their college paths had diverged wildly. She obviously had gone the Greek Life/party-drink-party route, and he’d chosen a more studious, intellectually stimulating road. In Browerton terms, she was North Campus and he was South Campus.

  North Campus was where the frats and the party dorms with kegs in the bathroom were—the central locale for any type of debauchery basically. South Campus held the arts and sciences buildings, the drama center, and the so-called nerdier dorms with the liberal arts bent. He had been placed in a South Campus dorm as a freshman, and he’d considered it a sign from the universe that he was in the right place.

  As they reached the other side of the road, he watched the sea of lime green march away toward Arnold Stadium with just the tiniest bit of longing. He imagined rushing the field if they won like he’d seen in photos, the whole student body united, screaming and cheering.

  Me and Jessica at a tailgate chugging beers? He shook his head and laughed to himself.

  Jessica walked in the opposite direction, and Ethan jogged to catch up. “They’re just going to watch a bunch of ‘roided-out guys knock each other over while they all get wasted,” she said.

  He linked his arm in hers. “And we’re going someplace much cooler.”

  Φ

  Wiry sculptures stretched up to the blue September sky. They twisted and lurched in different directions across the lawn of the cultural center. The exhibit reminded Ethan of the house in Beetlejuice.

  Another Jessica find. Ethan never knew how she always discovered such interesting activities around here. Duncannon, Pennsylvania, revolved around the university. The town lived to serve the student body with cheap food options, Browerton Whitetails decals in all the store windows, and bars that did a poor job of carding. He’d had no idea the town had an art gallery, let alone a whole cultural center.

  Ethan strummed his fingers along a sculpture that looked like a giant metal harp. “This is awesome!”

  “I know!” Jessica said, bunching her long brown hair into a bun. “I was taking a walk the other day, and I saw all these funky statues. I had to add it to my list.”

  Jessica had a list going of all the cool things to do around campus that didn’t involve binge drinking or frat parties. He was amazed she’d come up with more than three items; she was now up to twenty. Ethan considered himself very go-with-the-flow, and Jessica was the flow. He liked being along for the ride.

  He marveled at a red semi-circle statue that was twice his height and wondered if the sea of lime green knew how much they were missing out on currently. “Thanks for inviting me.”

  Jessica shrugged it off. “Of course. The rest of the gang should be here soon.”

  You have to stop thanking people for hanging out with you! he commanded himself, but it was a force of habit. He wasn’t used to having a crew of friends or being asked to hang out on a regular basis. He’d feared that his social life at college would be the same as in high school—a.k.a. nonexistent. But he’d met Jessica in his dorm freshman year, and she’d brought him into her circle of friends. Ethan had a circle of friends! He wanted to pinch himself sometimes. This was where he was meant to be. His mom had always told him that he would find his place at college, and apparently it was smack in the middle of a sculpture garden.

  Ten minutes later, the rest of the gang arrived. Ethan spotted Dave first since he was freakishly tall and his black hair popped against his pale skin. Not everything was black and white, but Dave was. He scooped up Jessica in a hug and kissed her.

  “I saw someone who dyed her eyebrows lime green,” Dave said in his deep voice. His a capella group must have thanked the musical gods when they found him. “Why would you do that to yourself?”

  “Because you’re trying oh-so-hard to fit in,” Jessica said.

  Anna followed behind, her full face and big eyes squinting at the sun. She readjusted her T-shirt, which said “Get a Load of These Puppies” and had actual puppies underneath. Ethan’s eyebrows jumped. He wasn’t sure if Anna got the subtext that was splashed across her chest. She was from the heart of Kansas and considered Duncannon a scary city. His friends were more likely to talk about their classes, current events, or dining hall food than boobs. Whenever a line of innuendo slipped into his mind, he kept it to himself.

  “I like your shirt,” Ethan said.

  “Thanks! My mom sent a few from my favorite store back home. Although it’s making me miss my collie, Gertrude.”

  “It is so hot out!” Jessica said, leading everyone to a cement sculpture with a hole in the middle. Ethan had no idea how this was deemed art, but it brought shade at least.

  “I know!” Anna echoed in quick response. “I am so ready for fall.”

  “Two more weeks until fall technically,” Jessica said.

  In Duncannon, that equals hot, warm, one day of actual fall, then winter, Ethan thought to himself.

  “You know how Duncannon falls are.” Dave hopped up and sat in the hole. “Hot, warm, one week of crisp breeze, then winter.”

  Everyone laughed, including E
than, even though he liked his version better. He wasn’t as witty or fast as Dave. His tongue was like a spiderweb, catching one-liners for dinner.

  “I don’t want to start class on Monday. I’m so not ready,” Anna said in a whiny voice that she assumed sounded cute but Ethan had not missed over the summer.

  “I cannot wait,” Ethan said, bouncing off the side of a statue.

  “That’s because you got into your dream class with your dream professor. I’m stuck taking Exploration of the Solar System,” Anna said. “Stupid distribution requirement.”

  Ethan had nothing to say back. She was right. Come Tuesday morning, he would be soaking up the legal knowledge of the esteemed Professor Wendell Sharpe, a class he’d been looking forward to since he was a prospective student.

  Jessica checked her phone. “Oh, Preston’s coming! He should be here in five.”

  Ethan immediately lost all contact with the outside world. His attention drifted to a countdown clock inside his head, ticking away with the promise of Preston Waters.

  Just thinking about Preston made his stomach queasy and nerve endings tingle with sensitivity. Ethan had known he was gay in high school, but he hadn’t been excited about being gay until he’d met Preston.

  Six minutes later, Preston’s solid jawline, piercing green eyes, and beaming smile greeted them. He should’ve been hung in a museum; he was just that good to look at. And with new thick-framed glasses, he was the perfect combination of sexy and smart.

  Preston waved to everyone. “How goes it?”

  Ethan gave him an unsure wave back that he immediately regretted for being unsuave.

  “Nice T-shirt,” Jessica said.

  Preston tugged at his lime-green Browerton shirt, causing his chest to be framed perfectly by the fabric. Ethan’s heart beat like a maniac.

  “It’s game day!”

  “Oh, I know. Ethan and I fought through throngs of fraternisluts and sorostitutes to get here.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “I have way too many classes up there. Trust me, it is.”

  “Am I allowed to sit on these things?” Preston balanced his cup of coffee on one of the structures and sat down, making sure the thing didn’t topple over. “A buddy of mine had kegs and eggs at his place.”

  Jessica’s face pinched with disapproval, but Preston didn’t seem to notice or care. In their group, he was a recurring character rather than a full-fledged cast member. Unlike Ethan, Preston had lots of friends, one of those guys who managed to float among many groups at Browerton. Including the LGBT group.

  Because Preston was gay.

  Just like Ethan.

  Usually when Ethan found a guy who was naturally and effortlessly sexy, smart, witty, friendly, charming, adorable, and caring, the guy was either imaginary or straight. But how could he get Preston to like him? While he and Ethan hung out regularly, it was always within the group. Ethan was firmly in the friend zone, yet friends could turn into boyfriends, right? That was a big hurdle to cross, but Ethan believed, given enough time, it could be surmountable. They would make the cutest couple.

  “So how’s your coffee?” he asked Preston.

  “I’m drinking green tea.”

  “Oh, cool. Why do they call it green tea?”

  “Because…something something something green. I have no idea.” Preston took another sip. The girls checked their phones.

  “And there’s still caffeine in there, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “You’ll be bouncing off the ceiling tonight!”

  Was this him flirting? Ethan knew there was better banter lurking in his head, but by the time it got to his mouth, it jumbled into questions. Preston answered them all, though, so maybe there was interest. Maybe?

  “If I defy gravity, I’ll let you know.” Preston pulled his lips into a smile and had a certain glint in his eyes. A smile just for me! I made Preston’s eyes glint! Maybe they were flirting.

  Ethan could barely keep his feet on the ground. He knew he wasn’t the type to just swoop in and get the guy. He would have to use a series of small moves that would eventually pay off.

  Dave cut into their conversation. “Shall we get exploring?”

  “Yes!” Jessica led them to the east corner of the lawn, and they followed her toward an orange tilted cube.

  First, a great group of friends.

  Second, a class taught by a world-renowned lawyer.

  Third, a potential boyfriend?

  Yes, Ethan had certainly found his place.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Ethan Follett considered himself the luckiest sophomore at Browerton.

  Sophomores never got into Constitutional Law—or Con Law for those in the know. Many juniors got turned away, too. Professor Wendell Sharpe had argued cases before the Supreme Court, and now Ethan would be mere feet from him twice a week while he mused on Ethan’s favorite subject: the law. He loved that we all had a set of rules to live by and our justice system kept those rules intact.

  He had spent the first week back at school piecing together the ideal fall class schedule and mapping out his registration strategy. Despite being a sophomore, there was still risk of being shut out of the more popular lectures. He had experienced the rush of joy and crush of defeat registering for classes as a freshman. Clicking his mouse, then waiting countless agonizing seconds to find out if his selection went through. By the time he’d sign up for one class, another class would be filled. This year, he was prepared. His registration time was 1:15 p.m. By 1:10 p.m., he was already on the page for Constitutional Law, his mouse hovering over the sign-up button.

  When he’d reached the confirmation page, Ethan had jumped out of his chair and broke out into a spontaneous dance move. Then he’d stopped himself and checked to make sure his door was still closed, twisting the knob to triple-check. Locked. Phew. Pure joy had coursed through his veins and made his blue eyes light up like a neon sign.

  Unlike many kids at his college, Ethan wasn’t born into a wealthy family and wasn’t blessed with the right connections. Any headway he wanted to make in life would be up to him. First step would be sitting up front and wowing the professor with his intelligence, humor, and passion. (Some would call him a teacher’s pet. Ethan considered it networking.) By the end of the quarter, he and Professor Sharpe would be on a first-name basis. Next, the professor would recommend him for a summer internship at a top law firm, then for Harvard Law School, then a clerkship, until finally Ethan had worked his way up to being the first gay Supreme Court justice. Well, the first openly gay justice. That was how his life was supposed to go.

  On that bright Tuesday morning, he zipped along the sidewalk, not cutting across the flower garden like some students, and finally reached Bamberger Hall, with its thick white columns and courthouse front steps. It had been more of a hike from his Spanish class than he’d realized, but he still got to class by 9:55. He ripped open the door and then charged up two flights of stairs to room 304.

  Ethan paused outside the entrance to rip off his sneakers and swap them with loafers. This was Constitutional Law, after all. Ethan had made sure to wear a nice shirt and pressed pants for the occasion.

  Once he entered the classroom, his face immediately sunk to the floor. He didn’t see a single empty seat, and Professor Sharpe was already lecturing.

  Ethan crept down the right-side aisle to scope out seats near the front, but this wasn’t like high school; students wanted to sit in the front row. His gaze inched back and back, farther and farther away from Professor Sharpe, farther and farther away from the Supreme Court. All he saw were students being more studious than him.

  “There’s a seat in the back row for latecomers,” Professor Sharpe said while shuffling through his notes.

  The class went silent and 199 sets of eyes bore into Ethan. He felt like unscooped dog poop on a ritzy street. Professor Sharpe continued on with his lecture.

  He calmly walked to the back row, to the back corner, where one seat
remained. The dead-last seat in the class.

  Φ

  He was a latecomer. Who knew what the professor really wanted to call him? Ethan crumbled into himself.

  His seat was so far back that the lighting didn’t cover it. The desk part wouldn’t come up from the side. It wasn’t even in a full row. There was Ethan’s desk, a guy next to him, and then a giant wooden column.

  He glanced at his rowmate. The guy wore gray warm-up pants and a wrinkled T-shirt. He slouched so far down that he could rest his chin on the desk. Instead of taking notes, he was texting someone.

  He remembered what his dad had told him: No matter what, just put one foot in front of the other.

  I’m down, but not out.

  Ethan took out his notebook and began listening intently to every carefully chosen word that came out of the professor’s mouth. He would find a way to make it to class earlier. He would write the best essays and score the top grades on the tests, and Professor Sharpe would have no choice but to take notice. Ethan breathed a sigh of relief.

  The guy next to him laughed at something on his phone, breaking Ethan’s concentration. Ethan ignored it. A few seconds later, the guy reacted again with an “hmmm” and then another laugh. Ethan rolled his eyes and paid attention to the lecture, trying his hardest to focus on the overhead projector.

  “Damn,” the guy whispered to himself. He leaned his head against the wooden column.

  “Could you please be quiet?” Ethan asked him.

  “I am being quiet.”

  “Not really. I can hear all of your reactions.”

  The guy cocked an eyebrow at Ethan. “You shouldn’t eavesdrop.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t be texting in class.”

  “I’m not. I’m taking notes,” the guy said. He returned to texting.

  Frustration pumped up Ethan’s head like a balloon. This was the cherry on top of a crappy, potentially career-killing morning.

  “Oh, man,” the guy said to his phone, shaking his head. Ethan stared daggers at him, and he turned to Ethan with a sly smile that brought dimples to his cheeks, creasing his deep brown eyes. He was a total jerk. A total hot jerk, but a jerk nonetheless. That didn’t make up for his behavior at all, but it helped just slightly. At least Ethan could have some eye candy in this situation.