Out in the Open

by A. J. Truman

  Ethan was still hard, turned on by Greg and the moment. His heart raced back up, and before Greg could utter a witty comment about not needing butter on the popcorn, Ethan’s face was in his crotch.

  He unleashed Greg’s dick and inhaled every inch. He sucked with the force of a hundred vacuums. His ears perked up at the sound of someone munching popcorn, but that couldn’t stop him. It only made him want this more. He glanced up at Greg, who leaned back in pure joy, a relaxed smile on his face. He winked at Ethan.

  Ethan gripped Greg’s cock with both hands and let it plumb the depths of his mouth. Greg came soon thereafter, also onto the popcorn.

  “Maybe I should get a refill,” Ethan said.

  They both leaned back and watched the movie for a few minutes—as a way to relax, not because they gave a shit about what was going on on-screen. Ethan stood up and brushed off the sex and popcorn bits stuck on his shirt.

  “Where are you going?” Greg asked.

  Ethan thought this was the part where they left. He doubted Greg would sit through this movie. He barely could.

  Greg nudged him. “Stay.”

  And so Ethan did. They continued to watch the movie, and Ethan felt a deep sense of relaxation. But somewhere during the film’s clichéd and seen-from-a-mile-away third-act twist, Greg did something that made his heart begin racing again.

  He held Ethan’s hand.

  At first, Ethan thought it was a mistake, but nope. Greg remained clasping his increasingly sweaty hand. Ethan stared down at the armrest—doing nothing, saying nothing, thinking everything. He was too scared to make eye contact.

  Out of everything he had done today, this was the most nerve-wracking moment—when Ethan realized he couldn’t avoid the feelings he had for Greg.

  CHAPTER Sixteen

  Greg and Ethan remained in that position until the movie was over. When the lights came up, Ethan knelt down in his previous position, waiting for his friends to leave. Neither of them acknowledged the handholding.

  “Good times again.” Greg stood up once the coast was clear. He gave his usual smirk, no different from before the movie.

  “They really need to do a better job of cleaning up these floors. I’m going to fill out a comment card.”

  “Sure. You go do that.” Greg shook his head and strutted down the steps. Ethan followed him.

  They left the auditorium and walked into the hall, then the lobby. Greg made some comments about the film, how it wasn’t as terrible as he was expecting. Ethan wasn’t listening to his words; he was trying to figure out what was behind them, if there was some subtext he should be picking up on.

  “All in all, not a bad way to spend a Monday afternoon,” Greg said. They took the elevator down to the street.

  “Yeah.” All Ethan thought about was Greg’s hand on top of his. What did it mean?

  “Your friends suck by the way. Why would they choose to see this shitty movie again?”

  “I don’t know.” The hurt from before came rolling back. How come they hadn’t invited him? He feared that this was a regular occurrence. No need for Ethan.

  “Why do you hang out with them? You’re much cooler.”

  Ethan blushed at the compliment. “They’re my friends.”

  “Maybe you should find new ones.”

  “Easier said than done,” Ethan said with an edge to his voice. We can’t all be Greg Sanderson.

  Outside the theater, a gust of wind blew between them, and it shuffled Greg’s hair in all directions. “So I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.”

  Greg nodded. He didn’t ask if Ethan was all right when he was so obviously tongue-tied.

  “I have a question,” Ethan said, his voice rising way more than it needed to.

  Greg was all ears, but Ethan noticed an awkward look flash across his face for an instant. Maybe that handholding was meant to stay in the theater; Ethan didn’t want to ruin the moment by overanalyzing.

  “Did you study for the exam?” Ethan asked. “It’s tomorrow.”

  Greg bobbed his head side to side. Ethan desperately wanted to brush the silky strands out of his eyes, to run his fingers through it and feel the warmth radiate onto his fingers. “I perused the PowerPoint slides.”

  “I’m shocked.”

  “Unfortunately, the copy of the exam at my frat house is missing.”

  “What a tough life.” Ethan smiled. He’d delivered that line perfectly and applauded himself on the well-executed sarcasm.

  Greg laughed and massaged his shoulder a little too hard. “You’re funny, Folly.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good nickname?

  “Yep.” Greg waved goodbye and left.

  Ethan was glad he hadn’t brought up the handholding and date-ish qualities of this afternoon. He enjoyed what they had, and there was no need to rock the boat.

  Φ

  By the time Ethan returned to his dorm, he felt differently. Much differently. He needed to talk to someone.

  He was wrong before. This day had to be analyzed. This whole relationship had to be analyzed. It wasn’t just a few harmless public hookups anymore. There was handholding. And date-ish qualities. And Greg’s dimple and warm eyes. These could not be ignored.

  Ethan headed to Jessica’s room, but dreaded his choice with every step. He needed to talk to someone and she was his closest friend, but at this moment, that didn’t feel like much. He wasn’t close enough to get an invite to the movies. Sure, she’d have some excuse about it being a last-minute thing. That did happen. But watching the five of them find an empty row this afternoon had felt like a slap to the face for Ethan. Why should he tell them about his private life if they didn’t include him?

  He reached Jessica’s room, but wanted to turn back, debating if she should know about this. Did she deserve to be let in?

  “Hey,” Lorna called out behind him.

  “Hi,” Ethan said awkwardly. She carried a laundry basket.

  “Jessica’s not here. I think she has class. What’s up?” He was taken aback by her friendliness. Didn’t she know what her roommate and roommate’s friends said about her behind her back? Yet here she was, folding laundry with a smile on her face, asking Ethan how he was.

  “Not much.”

  “Cool.”

  Ethan continued into the stairwell, then stopped. Something inside him, some green light, made him turn around and march into Lorna’s room.

  “Can we talk?”

  “Um, sure. My door is always open.”

  Jessica hated that. She liked her door closed. Nobody needed to see her business, she had told him once.

  “Can we close it for this conversation?” he asked. Nerves choked his throat.

  Lorna did as he asked, and she didn’t seem bothered by it. In fact, the look he saw upon her face was concern.

  “What’s up?”

  “I…well, I don’t know how to say this.” He paced around in the confined space.

  “Would it be better if we played charades?”

  “What? No.”

  “Oh my Lord. You knocked someone up.”

  “No!”

  “Knocked someone out?”

  He cocked his head at her. Her first idea sounded more plausible.

  “Give me a hint here.”

  Ethan crossed his arms so tightly they turned white. “I don’t even know where to start. It’s kind of complicated, and I haven’t talked to anyone about it.”

  “You’re fucking a straight guy,” she said with absolute conviction. “Well, ‘straight.” She used air quotes.

  Ethan dropped his arms to his sides. His mouth hung open. She must be a psychic or a witch. Lorna clapped her hands wildly.

  “That is so hot. Tell me everything!”

  “I told you. I don’t know where to start.”

  “Start with a name.” She sat on Jessica’s desk and rested her feet on the chair. Ethan held his breath, picturing the shitstorm she’d be in if Jessica ever found out.
r />   “I can’t. He’s in a frat.”

  “Even hotter.”

  Ethan shot her a look, and she toned it down, rubbing his arm. “You don’t have to tell me his name. Just know that whatever we discuss in here is top secret. Contrary to what my roommate has probably told you, I’m not some typical blabbermouth sorority girl. I mean, I can be if I don’t like you. But I like you, so we’re all good!”

  Lorna had a natural buoyancy and energy that Ethan soaked in. Just being around her made him feel more positive, like any problem was merely a situation.

  “You like me?” he asked.

  “Yeah! You’re the only one of Jessica’s friends who doesn’t give me the evil eye. So dish!”

  Ethan regaled Lorna with the tale of him and Greg (called “Frat Guy” in Ethan’s version). He spared no detail, and at the end, he inhaled deeply. It was a refreshing breath, and no matter what advice Lorna had, he already felt better.

  “Wow.” Lorna leaned against Jessica’s hutch, and a stack of pennies fell to the floor, joining some other loose change. “Isn’t it nice having those chair arms that go up there? I don’t know how people gave movie theater blowjobs in the past.”

  “So what do I do?” He sat in Jessica’s chair, and Lorna put her feet in his lap. He threw his arm over them. He didn’t wonder how they got to this point; it felt natural. Some people you just clicked with.

  Lorna didn’t answer right away. She smiled a knowing smile at Ethan, driving him crazy. “I think he may like you.”

  “Honestly? Really? But he told me he’s straight.”

  “He held your hand.”

  “Don’t friends do that?” Even Ethan didn’t believe that.

  “Unfortunately, it’s hard for some guys to come out, especially for frat guys. Yeah, there are openly gay frat guys, but there’s still a stigma depending on the house. It could take a while or maybe never.”

  Ethan had all the confirmation he needed, but his happy mood was no longer. If Greg was gay but not admitting it to Ethan, that meant he did like guys, just not him. They were just having fun, whether Ethan liked it or not. Perhaps the handholding was letting Ethan know he wasn’t straight, but that’s all it was. A wink, but no more.

  “I’m probably just another notch on his bedpost.”

  “He held your hand.”

  “He’s probably a fraternislut who hooks up with tons of sorostitutes.” Ethan cringed at Lorna’s reaction. “No offense. I didn’t mean you.”

  “Way to stereotype.”

  Ethan hung his head.

  She let the comment roll off her back, unlike her roommate who would’ve held onto it for weeks. “It’s okay. I’m sure that’s true for some people in the Greek system, but there’s a lot of good people up on North Campus. Like your Frat Guy who held your hand.”

  Ethan fell back on her bed, and she sat next to him. Her red hair fell on his shoulder. “Just have fun. Enjoy what I’m sure is an amazing body.”

  Ethan gave an exaggerated nod. “It’s quite spectacular.”

  “Just keep doing what you’re doing. It sounds like you were having fun, too.”

  He glanced to make sure the door was still shut and nodded. It was a new kind of fun for him. Outings with his friends were fun in a delightful way, but what he did with Greg was the type of fun that dug in deep and whirled him around like those zero-gravity simulators.

  “Don’t get attached, and you’ll stay golden.”

  He stood up, feeling strangely fine. Greg just wanted to have fun, and that’s what they were doing. Ethan was having fun. He loved acting like someone else for those moments. Some things were best left unanalyzed.

  He turned to Lorna before leaving. “Please don’t tell Jessica. About any of this.”

  “Duh.”

  CHAPTER Seventeen

  He’s just a guy you fool around with, Ethan. Nothing more.

  Those were the words Ethan repeated to himself during class on Tuesday. It became his personal mantra and gave him surprising strength against the cuteness assault that was Greg. It wasn’t as if Greg was doing anything charming or flirty in particular. Rather, all of his usual trademarks—the funny comments, the way his eyebrows teepeed waiting for a response from Ethan, the smirk (that fucking smirk)—had new meaning for Ethan now, post handholding. They made his stomach do flip-flops. Greg was just being himself, and Ethan liked it a little too much.

  Professor Sharpe went on some tangent about the case he’d argued in front of the Supreme Court. Greg turned to Ethan and rolled his eyes, then half-smiled. It was a smile Ethan wanted to spend a good two weeks in, but he forced himself to listen to Sharpe as a distraction.

  Ethan had been less interested in this class lately. Sharpe already had his go-to sycophants, the same handful of students he would call on by name, the only names he knew in class. There had been a window of opportunity to be one of the lucky few; Ethan had missed it. Once he came to that realization, he stopped trying to focus on every word the professor uttered. Greg had been right; everything necessary was in the handouts and PowerPoints. Ethan had aced the first exam. As long as he got an A in the class, he could still move on with his plan to intern at a law firm. He just needed a new connection.

  “What are you up to after class?” Greg asked. They’d gotten good at whispering to each other.

  Ethan’s insides did a jump for joy. He’s just a guy you fool around with, Ethan. Nothing more.

  “I was just going to do some studying,” he said, a total lie. This was the game they played. Why couldn’t he admit that he was readily available?

  “Maybe we could hang out first.”

  He grabbed the edge of his desk as kids stood up around them. Class was done. And now they would be “hanging out.”

  Greg picked up his backpack, and a textbook slipped out that left Ethan perplexed. He picked it up, but not before Ethan could read the cover.

  “Fundamentals of Early Education?” Ethan chuckled to himself. Greg could barely stay focused in Con Law and yet he was studying on how to lead a class of eight-year-olds. “Greg Sanderson, elementary school teacher. Good thing it’s a blow-off class, right?”

  Greg wasn’t laughing. Flickers of anger sparked in his eyes as he zipped his bag shut. “Where to today?”

  Ethan’s eyes bulged. “You’re asking me?”

  “Yep. It’s your turn to decide.”

  “I get a turn?” Ethan stammered for an answer. “I don’t know. You’re good at picking out places.”

  “And I’m sure you’re just as good. I’m not going anywhere until you decide, Folly.” Greg stayed true to his word. He sat in his chair and strummed his fingers on his backpack. They were the only ones left in the lecture hall.

  “Maybe we could hang out in your room. You have a single, right?” Ethan asked.

  “Double.”

  “As a senior? Really? Even I have a single!”

  “It’s a small frathouse.”

  “Well, send your roommate away for the afternoon.” Ethan winked, but it came off as creepy uncle rather than cool.

  “I don’t think he’ll budge. It’s Sahil, who you met.” Sahil’s loud greeting outside the coffeehouse bellowed in Ethan’s ears. “Yeah, he’s not the most open-minded.”

  Greg didn’t need to elaborate. Ethan was not surprised.

  “Well, we can go to my room.” Ethan regretted the suggestion as soon as it came out, and he secretly hoped Greg would shoot it down. He couldn’t bare the potential awkwardness of his friends—especially Preston—catching him with Greg in the dorm.

  “Bedrooms are boring. They’re not us, Folly.”

  “Right.” Ethan nodded. He’d gotten his answers, but he still felt a rock drop inside him. Bedrooms were for people who wanted to be alone with each other. In private. In love. That’s not us.

  “So where to?” Greg asked.

  Ethan didn’t want to be sullen around Greg. He didn’t want to push him away. A crazy thought came to him, and he blurted it
out before second-guessing himself. “Are you a classical music fan? I have an idea.”

  Φ

  Ethan’s idea was backstage at Slevin Concert Hall, home to the school orchestra and ballet and smaller graduation ceremonies for the individual colleges. The lush, vibrant sounds of orchestra practice reverberated against the walls. Red velvet on the seats and a grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling greeted them. Ethan had only been here once to see a speaker, a famous alum who’d gotten bombarded with requests to act like his signature sitcom character.

  Ethan led them through the ornate lobby, then way down a hall that got plainer as they went along. They reached the janitor’s closet, basically a dark hole crammed with cleaning supplies. Ethan opened the door, like he was showing him an apartment to rent, and waited for Greg to step inside.

  “Meh.”

  “What do you mean ‘meh’?” Ethan asked.

  “It’s a janitor’s closet.” Greg swatted at spare mop heads.

  “I think it works. It’s secluded. Nobody’s going to come in here.”

  “Now where’s the fun in that?”

  “It’s not us?”

  Greg shook his head. He wandered out of the room and back into the lobby. Ethan jogged to catch up with him. He seemed to be on a mission, peeking his head around, looking for something—or someplace.

  “We can’t do it in the lobby. It’s too open,” Ethan said.

  He watched the wheels turn inside Greg’s head. His eyebrows squiggled in thought; his mouth pursed in concentration. The guy was smarter than he let on, especially when it came to important matters like finding places to hook up.

  “Follow me,” Greg said. He climbed the grand staircase to the mezzanine level. Ethan scampered behind, already feeling winded. His treadmill workout obviously wasn’t cutting it.

  “I thought I was in charge of picking a place today.”

  “You are. I’m just making a suggestion. If you don’t like it, we’ll stick with yours.” Greg walked to the very end of the floor. To the private box. He poked his head through the curtain and came back out with a huge grin.

  “Shall we?”

  Ethan ran his fingers along the plush seats, smelled the fresh carpet under his feet. Detailed gold trim framed the edges of the walls as the orchestra continued to serenade them. There was no way Ethan could ever afford these seats regularly, so he took in the view and the ambience. And the glorious view showed him the full Browerton orchestra, mid-practice. Ethan’s face turned white.