Try Me (Extracurricular Activities #2)

by Neve Wilder

Barrett lasted one heart-hammering, ass-shaking song on the dance floor before he appeared to decide I wasn’t going rogue and randy enough for his liking. With a syrupy smile, he looped his arms around my neck and leaned in close. “Listen,” he said as soberly as he probably could. “If you end up ditching some more of your clothes out here, make sure someone takes a pic. I want to confirm you actually have nipples. Is your dick really molded plastic, or do they give Ken dolls a little more definition nowadays?” “Squeeze it and see,” I suggested with a smirk. “Ahhhhhhh!” He howled with delight. “I was not expecting that. You’re redeemed. For now.” He pumped a fist in the air and bopped deeper into the mass of revelers, leaving me surrounded by shirtless strangers.

Through a break in the crowd, I spotted Chet, head thrown back, eyes closed, body swaying to the music. Errol was plastered so tightly against him anyone hoping to pry them apart would probably need a chisel. Jealousy and desire spiked through me in silvery threads. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I let the undulations of the crowd carry me closer like an incoming tide and told myself I’d watch for one more song, then leave. Errol got bolder, spinning and looping his arms around Chet, their bodies moving in perfect synchrony. It was sexy. Erotic. Infuriating. When Chet finally caught me staring, he smirked, but when Errol leaned in to try to kiss him, he turned his head at the very last moment. Relief flooded through me. Turning away, I weaved through the crowd in the direction of the restrooms. I had no game plan, just let instinct and my dick direct me. Because that’d led to so many other smart decisions before. Chet caught up to me in seconds, his hand on my back just as before, silently guiding me toward the recesses of the club where the spinning strobes didn’t reach. As soon as we were out of the way of foot traffic, he bullied me toward the wall and boxed me in, forearms framing my head, face close to mine, lips way too fucking tempting when they tipped into a knowing smile. “I’ve noticed you enjoy shoving me up against inanimate objects,” I said. “I’ve noticed you enjoy letting me,” he countered, licking his lower lip. I didn’t think I’d ever truly appreciated the ov...

Chet’s eyes fluttered closed as I rubbed my fingers over his fly, then unzipped him. His hips jutted forward the tiniest bit as I pulled him out, like maybe he didn’t want to give in but couldn’t help himself. His dick was granite hard and twitched eagerly in my grip. Bigger than I remembered, the thick dorsal vein running along the underside of his shaft pulsed as I squeezed. I wanted to feel it do the same against my tongue. Before I could lose my nerve, I pushed Chet’s legs wider and dropped to my knees in front of him. “Jesus fucking Christ.” The exclamation cut through the air, and I could feel the couple nearby staring at us as Chet’s eyes flew wide and he shot one hand down to burrow into my hair, trying to yank me back upright. Except I wouldn’t let him. “What the hell are you doing?” I let one roll of my shoulder suffice for an answer, because I was in this now, and I wasn’t stopping. It amused me to no end that I’d taken him by surprise, that he’d failed to predict me for once. And because I wanted more of that, I buried my nose against his hot skin, diving into his pubes and licking the spot where his thigh met his groin. Chet’s fingers knotted in my hair, and his rigid cock thwapped against the side of my face. I rubbed my stubble over his shaft until he hissed, his hips jolting insistently toward me. “Fuck, do it already, I can’t…” I glanced up with a smile when he trailed off. “Can’t what? You gonna lose it before I get my mouth around you?” God, that’d be a ...

This time when I looked up, Chet’s eyes were glassy with hunger—just as I’d hoped. I took him as far down as I could. His fingers tightened the lower I went and then held me in place when I stopped. Only for a second, and then they released. I felt the tension in his body relax incrementally as I started sucking him off in earnest. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought of this.” I figured it was probably about the same number of times I had, but the breathless confession spurred me on and made me want to do better. I wanted to blow his mind so completely that Errol and his man bun were forever overwritten by me and my greedy mouth.

He curled his fingers into my skull, gripping the roots of my hair tight enough to sting, and I groaned around him, my own dick throbbing. “Shit.” Chet’s lips pulled back from his teeth. He was close. I could taste it, feel it, fucking smell his arousal, and I loved that it was me doing this to him, that it was my mouth driving him crazy. He dropped his other hand, fingertips tracing down my cheek and following the curve of my jaw to the underside of my chin as he curled over, closer to my ear. “The fuck are you doing to me, Farrow?” He spoke in a raspy, wrecked way that lit me up, like I’d stumbled upon a key that unlocked a part of himself he’d forgotten. And while I didn’t have an answer for him, I hoped it was along the same lines of what he was doing to me. I tugged the vertex of his open fly wider at the same time I went all the way down, forcing his cock into the back of my throat until I couldn’t breathe. Chet shuddered out a hard rasp of breath as he lost it, his fingers clamping on my jaw, holding me still as he surged forward. His release slid hot and thick down my throat as his thighs quaked with the force of his orgasm. I kept my nose buried in his pubes until his dick stopped pulsing, then let go of his waistband and sank back on my heels, panting. Chet tucked himself away, then ran both his hands over his face and back through his hair, chest rising in a deep, satisfied inhale. Ignoring my aching dick, I rose shakily to my feet and braced my hands on either ...

“No. No. No. Ewww, no. Sad. No. God, does he have a vitamin deficiency? Has he ever been out in sunlight?” Listening to Amanda’s peanut gallery commentary as she swiped through Tinder was a familiar study backdrop. Technically, she was supposed to be studying with me, but our study sessions usually devolved to Amanda messing around on her phone, head at the foot of my bed, feet on the wall, while I actually used the laptop open on my thighs. Admittedly, I was a little distracted tonight, trying not to let my mind wander back to Mark on his knees at Hype. The bone-dry case studies I was wading through for Lena didn’t help. “All right, all right. Let me see vitamin deficiency guy,” I said, taking the bait and shoving my laptop aside. She backtracked and angled the screen so I could see the guy who, okay, appeared a little pale and undernourished. “Gollums need love, too?” I suggested, and she cracked a smile. “He sent me a message. And, I mean, he seems smart and sometimes the little ones come packing big heat. But I dunno. I could take him for a sub sandwich?” She tapped her lower lip. “That sounds like a humanitarian act, not a date.”

I was getting off track. Not in a small way, like I was trying to study and somehow ended up on YouTube watching someone eat fifty hotdogs in under a minute. But like something essential had tilted inside me, and I was beginning to slide ever faster toward the unknown. I’d known since middle school exactly where I was heading. That I’d go to the U. That I’d rush Sigma Psi. That I’d be accepted to Sigma Psi. I’d declare myself a Finance major in my second year. I’d minor in American History. I would have girlfriends. Most of them wouldn’t last. I’d go to a lot of parties. I’d get hammered, get laid, have hangovers. I’d have all the fucking fun I could cram into four years. Then I’d graduate and start my career. I’d get married at some point. Who I ended up with would be mostly about timing. All of this was temporary. I needed to enjoy it for what it was. I didn’t need to get bogged down by the inconsequential. My life was laid out in front of me like points on a map, and the directions couldn’t have been clearer. But I was sliding. And it was fucking exhilarating.

One of the things that used to drive her crazy was when people would ask why? Why are you so sad? What happened? Did something happen? It made her feel like shit to try to explain.

“Is your mom okay?” I searched his face for any sign that he was looking for something to use against me and found nothing but sincerity. “She’s having a shitty week.” He nodded. “I wondered. You can see it in her shoulders. And in the way she looks at you.” Silence stretched a couple of beats, and then he let go of me, jerking his thumb toward the kitchen. “I’ve got food waiting.” “Yeah. Okay. By the way, I’ve got those slides done for our case. I’ll email them tonight.” Once we finished our pancakes, and Mom asked for the check, Chet reappeared with both it and a strawberry shortcake. He set it down between us along with a couple of spoons. “I remember you used to make this for us all the time. You used to say it was your favorite. This one probably isn’t as good as yours, honestly.” Mom smiled. “You asked for it every single time you came over.” “I thought maybe you’d forgotten. Clearly your age is not doing me any favors today.” To his credit, he seemed shocked that he’d said it aloud. “And you’ve still got a smart mouth.” “I’m sorry to say it’s terminal,” Chet replied, and I caught her smile even when she tried to hide it behind her napkin.

He made a show of buffing his nails against the collar of his tee. Irritating as fuck. Also, a little sexy. And surprisingly helpful. “The advantages of being in the boys’ club.” “And now I’m sharing that intel with you.” “Because you’re so generous that way.” “You wanna keep going like this?” “We could, but I do actually need to get some work done. Are you going to sit or what?” He was still fucking lurking over me, which he was probably enjoying. I kicked out a chair across the table. “I can’t sit here. You’ll distract me.” I blinked in confusion. “Distract you how? I won’t talk. I’m studying, dumbass.” He shrugged. “You’re distracting.” “Fine. Go away.”

For all that I’d enjoyed the hell out of going down on him in the club, it was kissing him I’d thought most about in the days that had followed.

“Turn around.” I did so immediately, no questions. Warm air rushed over my skin as Chet shoved my shorts down lower, exposing me. I folded my arms over the metal door, rested my forehead against them, and pushed my ass out, seeking the finger he slid over my hole. He rubbed me in hard, insistent circles without penetrating, and my mouth fell open, breathless desire pouring from my lungs in gasps. But I didn’t anticipate the wet heat of his tongue that came next. I jerked with a cry, and he steadied my hips, going still. “Okay?” I almost laughed for the sudden concern. “Yeah, shit. Just wasn’t expecting that.” “You taste good.” The justification was offered in conjunction with a gentle press of his lips to my asscheek. It was strangely out of place and all the more seductive for it. “Yeah?” I considered whether I’d rim him in return. It seemed awfully goddamn intimate, but fuck it felt good, and as his tongue laved over me again, I decided I would. I definitely fucking would. My thoughts shattered into a thousand shards when he speared the tip into my hole. Such a small point of contact to cause the massive reaction that happened inside me. My cock swelled and precum dripped down my shaft. Chet alternated between flicking lightly over my rim and thrusting into me. When he slid a finger back inside, my hips stabbed the air and I let out a sharp exhale. Standing abruptly, he buried his finger deep, wrapped his fist around my dick, and pressed into my back. His thick erection ...

“Don’t move.” He kissed the nape of my neck. “Can’t.” He chuckled and slapped my right asscheek. “Close your legs.” I obeyed blindly, too fucked out to care, so it took me a second after he smeared my jizz between my thighs and all around my hole to realize where this was going. The sensation of his slick cock gliding over my entrance and along the underside of my sac struck me dumb, and even though I’d just blown a load, a tingle ran through me for the unexpected turn of events. I’d thought maybe he’d shove my head down, push his cock into the back of my throat, but this…this definitely worked, too. It was different. The erratic friction of Chet’s dick sliding between my thighs was both alien and arousing. He splayed his other hand low on my stomach, holding me still, and there was just enough similarity of movement that I could almost pretend he was pushing inside me, filling me up with his long cock. It was a prelude to that, and fuck, it was hot. Chet clamped down on the back of my neck with his free hand, fingers spreading wide, the earthy scent and pressure of them bringing me back from the stratosphere. “Do you like it?” I nodded, tongue too thick for words. I liked him using my body for his pleasure, liked how he’d just gone for it unabashedly. No inhibition, no self- consciousness. “So much for that comment earlier about not liking me at your back, then, huh? Tighter,” he directed, and I flexed my thighs, grinning when he cursed. “That’s fucking perfect. Jesus, Fa...

“Shit.” Chet laughed as I dropped down next to him. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” “Really?” I stared at him. “I blew you in a club last week.” “Good point.” He started to run a hand through his hair and caught himself at the last minute, glancing at his palm before swiping it against his tee. “Been a while since you jerked off? Because, Jesus.” “You’ve been teasing me since the library. That’s not my fault. And I jacked off this morning, same as I do every morning.” “Shower or bed?” “Depends on the day, perv.” I laughed and yanked up my shorts. “What was it this morning?” I swiped my hand across the thighs of my shorts, but what I really needed was a shower. “Bed. Lying on my back. Covers off. One hand on my dick, the other tugging on my nuts. I was thinking about you.” I didn’t necessarily mean to say that last part, but Chet’s intent stare drew the confession out and made me want to see how he’d respond. It was worth it. Something like surprise mixed with lust crested over his features, and he leaned toward me, capturing my mouth again. His scent, his taste, all of it wrapped me up and surrounded me. Like the fact that we were fooling around where anyone could see us, the way his kiss affected me should’ve been terrifying. And it was, a little. I was scared that nothing else would ever compare. And that I couldn’t have it forever. But maybe a while would be long enough. Maybe the thrill would make the inevitable downfall worth it.

Then he kicked off his shoes and flopped on the bed, making himself right at home—not that I minded at all. It was such a distantly familiar image, Mark sprawled on my bed. Back in the day, he’d usually had a game controller in one hand. A glance at his muted expression suggested he was thinking along similar lines. “Remember that head tingler thing you used to have?” he asked. “Think it’s around here somewhere, actually.” It was a simple device I’d gotten as a stocking stuffer one year, a pencil-thick handle with thin, plastic-tipped wire prongs spider-legging off of it. It was about as close to heaven on earth as you could get—or at least had been before we knew much about orgasms. Sometimes Mark and I would trade off pushing it through each other’s hair or over each other’s back, because somehow it felt better when someone else did it.

I shut the door and locked it behind me, then took my shoes off, too, and lay down next to him. We stared at the pattern of twinkle lights, and when his fingers gently brushed over the top of my head, combing through my hair, I didn’t stop him. He rolled onto his side to face me, and I did the same. Mirror images. Just for a second, it was like we were in my old room again. Like nothing had changed. Sometimes I wondered what would’ve happened if my father had never cheated people out of their money, never gone to prison. If he and Mark’s dad had never gone separate ways to start with. Would I have crawled into Mark’s bed one night anyway and let him touch me? Would he have even wanted to touch me in the first place? Would I have asked for it the way I had that night?

How long had I wanted him? It was longer than the length of time I’d known with absolute certainty I couldn’t have him. Not for the long term, anyway.

He slid his palm along my jaw and traced his thumb over the curve of my chin and my lower lip.

The things I missed the most were intangible. Possibilities and opportunities that had vanished into thin air. The negligible potential with the guy lying next to me.

Mark pressed a gentle touch against my hip. “Turn over.” When I did, he pulled my back against his chest, and I sucked in a breath as he stroked the side of my neck. “My dick is dead to the world right now, just FYI.” His laughter heated my skin. “Mine, too.” But it didn’t stop him from resting his hand on my hip or from brushing his thumb over the skin above my waistband, just as he had so long ago. “This doesn’t change anything at the firm. Fucking around doesn’t mean I’m not your competition.” “I know that, dumbass,” he said, then kissed the top of my spine.

We managed to ignore each other until lunchtime, and then Mark followed me out to my car in the parking garage. I barely got the door closed before he had my dick in his mouth while I pawed his pants open and jacked him off. The next two weeks passed like that. We worked on our project, argued about stupid shit, then disappeared to get off. Sneaking around with him was the first slice of genuine elation I’d felt in a long time.

I wasn’t actually sure where we stood now. We antagonized each other and fooled around and had quiet moments that didn’t at all fit in with everything else. Those were the ones that haunted me. That was where shit got tricky.

A flicker of irritation passed through Mark’s expression, and satisfaction smoldered in me even as I felt guilty for what I was doing. Lashing out, being defensive. It was tried-and-true armor for the quiet fear that seeped through me. “You’re trying to start a fight with me. I’m not gonna let you this time, though.” I deflated just like that. Just because his eyes softened at the corners and he looked at me in way that was understanding and tender and a little hurt all at once.

“He’s someone you could be with, you know,” I said. “If you both wanted to.” Hours before, Cam had sat in the chair Mark was messing with, eyes jumping all over my room like he was seeing ghosts. He’d been nervous and ashamed and apologetic, talking about how confused he’d been about his sexuality, how he’d wanted Mark. And me. Others. I was supposed to be sympathetic. I tried. But I could tell he knew I was just going through the motions. All I kept thinking about was Mark, how he’d react, wondering if Cam being back would somehow make him angry at me all over again. Mark licked his lips. Under his keen blue-eyed gaze, I stiffened. Each step he took toward me cinched my shoulders tighter. “You’re a motherfucking idiot, Chet Pynchon.” “I am?” He nodded, tips of his flip-flops bumping my bare toes. My heart galloped wildly in my chest. “Don’t make me feel bad for coming over here. Don’t make me feel bad for…” He blew out a gusty breath and shook his head. “I know you.” He raised a hand, fingers moving lightly, briefly over my bare chest, then dropping away. The T-shirt I’d thrown over my shoulder went with it, landing next to my feet. “Cam was right. He knew. He knew how I felt about you. He could see it even back then. Even when I couldn’t. Now I can’t stop thinking about it.” Mark lifted his chin, gaze meeting mine and eyes blazing so intently I couldn’t tell if it was anger or desire, despite how he’d just touched me. It seemed like both. “About you.” He turned away and ...

For a moment, it was as if everything slowed down, like time had given way under the heat and was as syrupy and malleable as the humidity. I braced my hands on the window sash and pressed against Mark at the same time he looped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer. The soft moan that rumbled in his chest went straight to my balls and hardened my cock. I wanted more. I wanted all of him. In my bed. Spread out and undone. No clock to pay attention to, no one to hide from. I dug a hand into his waistband and yanked him away from the window. Mark’s hands roamed all over me as I undressed him, sliding over my back, pinching my biceps, my nipples, squeezing my ass. I tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, unbuttoned his jeans and worked them down his hips. We stumbled toward the bed in broken increments of kisses, and when he was close enough, I sent him sprawling onto the bedsheets, then kicked off my pants and crawled on top of him. “I wanted to kiss you that night you came down to Kacey’s dock,” I told him, cinching my knees around his sides as he grabbed my waist. He tilted his hips into my weight, hard dick grinding against my ass. “It wasn’t the first time I wanted to, but it was the first time I had trouble holding myself back.” “So you told me to fuck off instead.” “It seemed like a solid plan at the time.” I sucked in a steadying breath as Mark pulled the waistband of my boxers out until my cock popped free and bobbed in the air, stiff and ready. H...

He twisted beneath my fingers as I rubbed over his hole, plied it with my fingertips, slicked it with the saliva running down his cock, and kept working him over until he softened up and started bucking and slamming into my mouth, still chanting a filthy incantation of curses. “Fuck, I’m gonna⁠—” I pulled off and Mark’s dick stabbed the air, fingers pulling the ends of my hair. “C’mon,” he complained, but his mouth was open and waiting for my kiss when I lowered on top of him again. I gave it to him in forceful thrusts of my tongue. I kicked my boxers the rest of the way off and reached between us, jerking his cock without breaking the seal of our lips. The noises he made vibrated against my tongue, and I drank them down greedily. Mark dug his fingers into my arms, dragging and pinching the skin, then nudged my chin up, lips blazing down my neck, teeth nipping, tongue soothing the sting. He was careless and rough, and I fucking adored every messy, imprecise second of it. When I guided his hand back to my cock, he gripped it tight, stroking it just the way I liked before abandoning it for my hole and lubing it with the precum on his fingertips. Clutching my asscheeks, he surged a...

No way I’d last as long as I wanted to—which was probably longer than was medically advisable, anyway. I couldn’t help it, though. The unyielding clench of Chet’s ass around my cock was euphoric, each thrust inside him like my dick was a lightning rod, taking massive hits of pleasure and grounding them through me in sizzling waves of electricity. I flipped him onto his back, pushed his knees up to his chest, and plowed him in long, deep strokes that made his mouth fall open in a soundless gape and the veins in his neck rise in sharp relief. Then I sat back on my haunches, pulled his thighs over mine, and splayed a hand over his stomach, pinning his leaking dick with my palm, feeling the ripple of his abs and the steady drip of precum as he fucked himself on my cock. Every time I thought I was about to come, I’d switch positions, give my dick a breather while we twisted ourselves into some other mind-blowingly sexy tangle of arms and legs. Chet rolled onto his stomach, gripping the sides of my thighs, and I held him open with one hand, fixated on how he stretched around me as my cock disappeared into him. “Fuck,” he cried out, when I slammed home hard, pulled out, and plunged immediately into him again. “That.” He gasped. “That right fucking there. Perfect.” It was addictive, intoxicating, watching him take me, the needy upward thrust of his hips when I eased back, and the way his spine arched and his fingers dug into me when I came at him again. “Tease,” he growled, after ...

I leaned back a little to find his eyes. “So what do we do with this?” “You and me?” Chet hitched one shoulder. “Dunno. Exactly this, I think? No fucking way your dad would be okay with us. Or mine, for that matter, but he doesn’t count. He can’t say shit from prison.” “You don’t care if we keep it quiet?” I cringed even thinking about it. It felt…weak and wrong, but Chet nodded. “It’s probably for the best right now. Especially with the internship and…I mean, is it really that bad? I don’t need something formal. Do you?” I considered, then shook my head. “Nah. And after the election, my dad will probably be so focused on other things it won’t matter. Then we’ll graduate and…” I blew out a long breath, because I didn’t know what happened after that, and I was carefully warding against looking too far into the future. I wanted Chet Pynchon, and I was with him right now. Everything else would get sorted as we went. He moved his thumb lightly between my brows, rubbing at the frown that had formed. “Why’d you let me in that night?” “Why’d you come to my window in the first place?” I countered. “You had other friends.” A small smile curled on Chet’s lips, and he skied the tip of his thumb down the slope of my nose before pressing another kiss to my mouth. That was all the answer I got. “I would’ve let you in anytime.” I met the dark pools of his eyes, the confession soft. “I always will. I don’t know that I’d ever be able not to.” “Jesus, Farrow.” “Yeah.” I sighed. I was kind o...

Honestly, there wasn’t a whole lot that changed. We were still competitive as hell at the firm, still taunted and teased each other relentlessly. Still argued. The difference manifested in the small moments. When I’d come into the break room for coffee and Chet would wordlessly fill my mug and hand me two creamers if he was there. Or the glazed chocolate donut I’d grab for him and set on his desk—with a napkin—if I beat him to the firm in the mornings. Instead of wielding sex like a weapon against each other, there was an added intimacy to our hedonistic pursuit of pleasure. And Jesus, if I’d thought the things we’d done before were smoldering hot, now we’d moved into flame-broiled territory. I waited for Chet at his place on nights when he had shifts at Fuego, and we still messed around at work sometimes, though we were more careful than before. A lot of times, we took the stairs down when we left for lunch because, well, no one used the stairs and the acoustics were pretty fucking sexy. The booming echo of a guy growling your name as he fell apart? Yeah, it got my blood pumping. One day, instead of going down, Chet led me up. Turned out anyone could access the rooftop, though few did in the blazing heat of summer. We walked the perimeter of the building, looking over the city below, and then Chet pushed me into a rectangle of shade. He kissed me until my head spun. The noonday heat of the bricks at my back melded with the heat of his mouth, and my entire body felt so lig...

Chet: Hey. Mark: No. Chet: What? Mark: I’m not letting you get me hard again in a meeting. It was too late, though. I’d been sneaking glances over at Chet between PowerPoint slides. He was wearing a silvery-gray oxford shirt, sleeves rolled up, index finger rubbing idly over the edge of the armrest. A circle, a swoop, back and forth. The way he sometimes rubbed over my slit when he took a break from blowing me, because he knew it drove me crazy. So I was already sporting a solid semi that became the full monty when his name popped up on my screen. Chet: I wasn’t going to try to get you hard. Chet: Was gonna tell you that tie’s not awful. Mark: Thank you, I think. Chet: Would be better as a blindfold. Or wrapped around my fist. With you on your knees. Think I could persuade you to try a different kind of ropes course? Mark: JFC this is exactly what I’m talking about. Bye. Chet: Wait. Chet: I want to take you out. Mark: Mafia style? Or like to dinner and a movie. Chet: Idiot. When I glanced across the room, he was snickering down at his phone. Mark: Seriously? You’re asking for a formal date? You’re more of a sap than I realized. He hitched one shoulder subtly, then glanced pointedly at his phone. Chet: But would you? I let him sweat it out for a solid two minutes, keeping my attention drilled ahead before replying, yes.

Meanwhile, Mark had sat through the whole ride home in the back seat of my mom’s Jag with a megawatt smile on his face. “Kissing is freakin’ awesome,” he said later. And then he went on to date Jenny for six months. It wasn’t until a few years later that I figured out the bitter jealousy I’d felt over it had little to do with Jenny or Sarah, and even less to do with some dumb but persistent sense of competition with Mark. Mark slid his hands into his pockets and cocked his head at me with the quieter, but no less magnetic, version of that long-ago smile as I coasted into the student housing parking lot.

Love for speed existed for a reason, though, for the heart-pounding, stomach-swooping breathlessness that came from navigating around a curve or flying over a hill. In fact, there was only one other thing I knew of that caused the same sensation… Mark’s body molded to mine, a firm heat against my back, implicit trust in the way his fingers relaxed from their rictus grip and became more of a casual touch that secretly thrilled me. We’d been swoops and dives and potholes for most of the time I’d known him. But for this moment right now, it felt like open road between us, and it was my heart that was moving at breakneck speed. When doubt stirred in the back of my head over the fact that we had no plan and impossible roadblocks likely lay ahead, the wind rushing around me managed to silence it. I was hell-bent on taking the reprieve—at least for today. Because the truth was, nothing else felt as good as Mark Farrow. I wasn’t sure anything else ever could.

A subdued breeze moved through the forest, and the farther in we got, the more the air changed, became sweeter and damp-smelling from the rainstorm the day before. I liked just walking with Mark, being aware of his presence at my back or alongside me as we roved, and I guess he felt the same, because when I’d glance over at him, he’d give a smile I didn’t know what to make of. It was a fusion of shy and devious, and it made my stomach swoop just as much as the rolling hills we’d climbed and descended earlier.

dropped down onto a big rock studding the loamy soil. Silver Ridge sprawled below us. At night, it looked like a reflection of the sky, and I made a mental note to bring him back to see it sometime. He probably had already, but not with me. Fuck, maybe I needed to curb my enthusiasm some before I started writing him terrible poetry. I chuckled at the thought, and as Mark found a spot beside me, he plucked a leaf from my hair, showing it to me before asking, “What’s so funny?” “Nothing.” The way we sat with our knees tucked near our chests reminded me of the night at Kacey’s when Mark had found me near the water’s edge. “What were you doing that night at Kacey’s down by the dock?” “Looking for you.” Mark chuckled. “Wasn’t that obvious?” I shrugged. “We hadn’t spoken off the court in…how long before that?” “A long time.” He rolled one shoulder and rested his cheek on top of his folded arms. “I’m sorry about all that. I mean, how I treated you. I should’ve…I don’t know. Should’ve done…something.” I laughed softly. “You let me in your room a couple months later and jerked me off. That was helpful.” Mark grimaced, but I hadn’t meant it as a dig. I’d felt crazy that night, like I was going out of my head, my thoughts running rampant, my skin too tight. The lights and the noise and the cars outside had shrieked. Focus came in shards and fragments, and my heart wouldn’t stop pounding. I thought if I didn’t get away from all of it, I’d explode. I wasn’t supposed to leave my house, ...

Mark’s thigh pressed against mine, and he looped an arm around my bent knee. The casual contact was more reassuring than anything he could’ve said.

We fell silent for a minute, and then Mark exhaled a wry laugh. “This is the worst date ever.” I groaned. “That’s what you’re thinking, right?” “It got heavy,” he agreed with a smile. “We could make it lighter, though.” “How?” “Ummm, let’s see. To start with, you can tell me what the hell you did between junior and senior year to get so fucking fast. You came back from that summer and were like greased lightning on the court. I was so jealous.” I laughed. “I did speed drills for two and half months straight. It was fucking miserable. Twice a day, too.” “Dedication.” “Stupidity,” I countered. “I could’ve been getting laid.” Mark rolled his eyes. “Pretty sure you got plenty of that. Half the girls in my class would’ve been willing to turn in their Maple Hall spirit pins to defect and date you. Probably guys, too.” “Didn’t mean I always got what I wanted, or even close, really,” I muttered. “What’d you want?” I cocked my head at him, and the goofy smile on his face fell away as he discerned the implication. “No, you didn’t. Are you fucking serious? Even back then?” “It was more of a nebulous vibe than some clear desire, but yeah. And then in your room that night?” I groaned. “Jesus. Even under the shitty-ass circumstances, everything kind of solidified then. Worst fucking timing ever. But it didn’t matter. It never would’ve worked.” “Not back then,” Mark agreed. And probably not now, but I didn’t say it. Instead, I leaned into him, kissing the corner of his mouth that had bee...

Giving up, I tucked the ball against my side and reached out after a quick glance to either side of me, snagging his waistband in my fist and closing that last foot of distance between us. Our hot breaths filled the air, and the smirk melted from Chet’s face, replaced by something primal and base. He met my eyes, took another step into me, trapping my hand between us as he lifted his chin in challenge. “Gonna do it, Farrow? Or just thinking about it?” I was dizzy with desire. Up close to him, I couldn’t fucking think coherently, and I wanted this always, wanted it to be like this between us forever. The push and the shove, the way he occupied the back of my mind like he’d bought property there, moved in, and repainted. How fucking well he knew me, and how he wanted me despite my idiosyncrasies. I shove my trapped hand lower, until I felt his stiff length along the back of my knuckles, hard and ready. Jesus. I ran my knuckles up and down the front of his shorts, feeling his cock flexing behind, seeking friction as his eyes went half-lidded and hazy in a mesmerizing expression I couldn’t look away from. Chet didn’t move when I curled my fingers behind his waistband, but his breathing slowed, like he was making an effort to keep it steady as I found the tip of his cock. Deeper, lower, down his shaft, the skin smooth and hot all the way to the tangle of hair at his root. His unwavering gaze faltered, and his Adam’s apple rolled as he swallowed, and I felt…power, heady fucking ...

“You called your boys out here?” I glanced over my shoulder. Sure enough, Sam, Jason, and David were making their way toward the courts, talking and laughing. “They play most evenings. I didn’t realize it was getting so late.” “I’ll bail.” “Stay,” I insisted. He chuckled. “That’s not smart. It’ll just lead to a lot of questions, probably.” Chet was already turning away and pulling on his shirt as I returned Sam’s wave. Sam would probably understand if I told him, but yeah, maybe today wasn’t the day. Maybe we needed a little more time to figure out exactly how things were going to work between us before went blasting it everywhere. Chet divined my inner conclusion from my silence and winked. “I’ll text you later.” I watched him as he walked away. Lately, I’d started to feel more hopeful. Like maybe this could actually work out. The idea was both scary and thrilling, because even though I’d had plenty of fantasies about Chet, there’d never been anything about them that was domestic or day-to-day. Now I kind of wanted that. A partner in crime like Nate and Eric. Someone to grab lunch with in the cafeteria or sprawl on the quad with like other couples did on nice days. Have him over to the house. Okay, maybe that one would take a little longer. I started to wonder, too, whether I’d been overthinking things. My dad was a dick, yeah, and I was constantly running with a low level of paranoia about what I was doing in public on campus, given his trustee status, but Jesus, probabl...

“Ohhh.” Sam glanced down at his phone, smile widening. “Carly and some of her friends are gonna head over. Sasha’s coming. Carly was telling me she broke up with that dude.” He waggled his brows at me. It took me a second to remember Sasha. She transferred in last year, and I’d been into her for a hot minute until she started dating a guy in another fraternity. I shrugged one shoulder unenthusiastically, and Sam balked. “Really? She’s so hot, though.” “She’s hot, for sure.” I’d grant her that, but my interest was at negative levels right now. I’d rather just man the grill and hang around with the guys and drink. And wait for Chet to text me later. Ugh. I was becoming that guy, and I couldn’t even muster up the energy to care.

“Different times.” He sighed like it was a shame. “The world is changing so much.” I’d gotten a version of this speech in so many iterations over the years that the amusement now lay in trying to figure out which artifact of a bygone era he was about to lament. “People are softer now. Triggered easily.” Dad hung air quotes on the word triggered, then shook his head with a grimace. “Makes me think of apples left out on the counter too long. Biting into that taut red skin only to find the interior is mealy and spoiled.” He sniffed derisively. “There’s a lot of mealiness lately.” “Maybe you should stop eating apples.” His gaze flinched toward me, sharing a flash of shock that quickly transitioned into a sharp, watchful glint. I rarely talked back. The desire to look away from him was overwhelming. I knew these kinds of power plays. I knew what it meant when I looked away. In the past when I’d done it, I’d told myself it was the easier route, that I was saving myself unnecessary hassle and grief. But I had Chet’s grin on my mind, how his eyes had danced on the court earlier. How he held my jaw, my side, my hand. Fierce and tender and possessive at once. So whether I held my father’s gaze out of carelessness or bravery, I wasn’t sure. They were easy to mistake for each other. When he looked away, the sense of triumph I felt was probably a tenth of what he experienced on a daily basis, but I tasted it, absorbed it. And I understood the allure completely.