Текст книги "Games Frat Boys Play "

Автор книги: Todd Gregory

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter 5

“Hey,” Roger said as he stepped out of his room, “there you are. I haven’t seen much of you lately.” He frowned. “I’m beginning to think you’re avoiding me.”

“Oh, I’ve been around,” I replied guiltily. “I haven’t been avoiding you.” It wasn’t completely a lie—I just hadn’t been looking for him when I came to the house. I hadn’t even given him much thought, honestly, since Big Brother Night.

After seeing Chad getting fucked, I’d gotten sick again. Roger had been great—he led me back to the bathroom and washed my face, got me some more bottled water, apologizing over and over for pressuring me to get high. I finally told him to stop, and we’d gone back to his room. I curled up on the floor with a pillow and a blanket and pretended to fall asleep. He left the room shortly after, and I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. Alone, I allowed myself to cry from the bitter disappointment the night had turned into. Just get over it, I finally said to myself, wiping my face on the blanket. You need to just accept the fact that Chad doesn’t want you and is never going to want you. And finally I’d fallen asleep on the hard floor.

When I woke up, it was morning. Roger was in his bed, snoring. I folded the blanket and stood up. I felt like crap. My head hurt and my teeth were all fuzzy. I got a piece of paper out of his desk drawer and wrote him a brief note, thanking him for taking care of me. All I wanted to do was go home and go back to sleep in my own bed. I walked out of his room, closing the door as silently as I could, and walked into the bathroom. I washed my face and used a paper towel to wipe off my teeth. It didn’t help much. With a sigh, I pushed my way out through the saloon doors just as a door opened down the hall. For a split second, I debated running down the hall and out through the parking lot door, but my pledge training kicked in. I had to greet the brother, whoever it was, and shake his hand. As I started to turn around I heard Chad say, “Jordy? Is that you?”

I wished I had the ability to teleport. He was the last person I wanted to see—and of all times to run into him! I knew I looked like hell—but on the other hand what difference did it make? He didn’t care about me. I was just glad Jacob wasn’t with him. I was still in Roger’s sweats, and my hair was undoubtedly sticking out in all directions. “Good morning, Brother Chad. How’s your day going?” I stuck out my right hand. I forced a completely neutral expression on my face.

Chad walked toward me with a big grin on his face. You’d never know he’d had a late night. Every hair was perfectly in place, he looked rested and refreshed, and he was already dressed in khaki shorts, a pale blue pullover, and penny loafers. “My day is going pretty well so far, thank you for asking,” he said as he gave my hand a strong shake. “But you look like you’ve had a rough night.”

You don’t know the half of it. “I was about to head home.” I tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. “I slept on the floor in Roger’s room. And my head really hurts.”

“Your first hangover,” he replied with a smile that made my knees feel weak. “I was about to go see if anyone wanted to go grab breakfast.” He let go of my hand. “What do you say, pledge? Want to go have breakfast with a brother?”

There was nothing I would rather do, but I had fur on my teeth. “I’d really like to, but I need to shower—”

“No problem,” Chad replied. “Do you have your car here?”

I nodded.

“You can drive. We can swing by your place first and you can get cleaned up.” He shrugged. “I don’t mind waiting.” He turned me around toward the door. “And I think it’s high time we got to know each other better, don’t you?” I didn’t say anything as we walked through the parking lot to my car. The sun was incredibly bright, and I narrowed my eyes to try to cut down on the glare. Another wave of nausea rolled through my body as I fumbled for my keys and unlocked the car.

Chad whistled. “This is a really nice car.”

“Thanks,” I replied, sliding behind the wheel and starting it up. I turned the air conditioning up to high, and the cold air felt great against my hot skin.

“You’re Roger’s little brother, right?” he asked as he buckled his seat belt. “You know we were pledge brothers, right?”

“Yes, last fall,” I replied as I put the car into gear and backed out of my spot. “And you’re Jacob’s big brother?”

“Yes.” He frowned a bit as I pulled out onto Shaw Avenue and headed for my apartment. “What do you think of Jacob?”

“He’s really nice,” I replied, trying to keep my mind on what I was doing. He was sprawled in the seat next to me, his legs spread wide. His left hand was resting on the armrest between the two seats, and my arm kept brushing against his as I drove. I was getting aroused, despite how rotten I felt, and stupid thoughts kept rushing through my mind. He’s coming to your apartment, you’re going to shower, maybe he’s going to make a move on you, maybe when you’re in the shower he’ll join you in there, pressing his hard muscular body up against yours under the spray of hot water, and he’s going to apologize for taking Jacob instead of you, maybe he took Jacob because—oh, stop it, Jordy, you’re living in a fantasy world. He doesn’t want you and he is never going to want you. He just didn’t want to have breakfast by himself and you just happened to be there.

“He seems to be,” Chad went on. “Not particularly smart—just an observation, not being mean or anything, but he seems like he needs a lot of guidance.” He touched my arm. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I took Jacob for my little brother instead of you.”

“Oh, no need to explain, Chad,” I said hurriedly. “I’m fine with Roger. Really. He’s a great guy.”

“Oh, he is that,” Chad replied. He turned and looked out his window. “You see, Jacob—how do I say this? Jacob needs guidance. He’s not as smart as you are. I’m sure you’ve noticed he stumbles over his lessons a lot. When Eric told me both you and Jacob had chosen me, well, my first instinct was to take you.” He started drumming his fingers on the armrest. “But then Eric said Jacob had picked me, too—and Roger was your second choice.”

I shrugged. “Okay.”

“I hope you weren’t hurt.” He patted my arm again. I took a deep breath and willed my hard-on to go away. “But Eric reminded me how introverted Roger is, and this might be the only chance he ever got to have a little brother—and that Jacob needed a big brother like me, to help him out.” He gave a little shrug. “So, what choice did I have? I couldn’t deprive Roger, could I?”

Relief flooded through my addled brain, and it was all I could do not to shout with joy. See? I said to that nasty little voice in my head. There WAS a good explanation for him not taking me. I am not a loser. He did want me. Eric talked him out of it!

Believe that if you need to, the voice sneered back, if that’s what you need to feel better about yourself.

“It’s okay, really,” I said as I pulled into the long drive to my apartment complex. “You don’t owe me any explanations, Chad. I’m glad it worked out the way it did. Roger’s a really great guy.”

“This is a nice place.” Chad whistled as I swiped my entry card at the gate and it swung open.

“I like it here,” I replied, driving through the gate and turning to the right. “It’s going to be weird moving into the house after living by myself for a year.”

“Living in the house can be a bit of a challenge.” Chad laughed. “There are some definite drawbacks—the lack of privacy is one”—I felt myself flush, wondering if he’d seen me and Roger watching him and Jacob—“but the advantages far outweigh the negatives, you know?”

“I’m sure,” I said as I pulled into my designated parking place. We got out and headed upstairs. I kind of hoped we’d run into Blair or Jeff—I hadn’t seen much of them since Rush Week—but there was no sign of them as I unlocked my apartment door and we walked inside.

Chad whistled again. “Damn, this is gorgeous.”

“Help yourself to anything in the fridge and make yourself at home.” I tossed my keys on the kitchen counter. “I’ll get cleaned up as quick as I can.”

“Do you have coffee?” He gave me a sad smile. “I really could use some.”

“Of course I have coffee.” I smiled at him. I quickly started a pot. “That should be ready in about a minute. I’ll hurry.”

“Take your time.” He plopped down on the couch and picked up the remote from the coffee table.

My heart was pounding as I went into my bedroom and undressed. I’d completely forgotten how tired I was, how much I’d wanted to come home and go back to bed. It might just be a friendly breakfast, but it might also be our first date. I stared at myself in the mirror and groaned. If this is a first date I’ve already blown it, I thought. My eyes were bloodshot, there was crud in the corners of my mouth, and my hair looked like I’d been electrocuted. I started the shower while I brushed my teeth. Then I climbed into the shower and stood under the hot spray, moaning a little as the water washed the sleep and beer off my skin. I started lathering up my body. As I soaped my crotch, an image came to my head of Chad sitting on my couch stark naked. Or of me, walking out of the bathroom with the towel around my waist and finding him lying on my bed, naked. My dick started getting hard, and I kept lathering it. I closed my eyes, and the image of Chad bent over his bed flashed through my mind, only it wasn’t Jacob fucking him from behind, it was me, and it wasn’t Chad’s bed, but it was mine, it was me fucking Chad, driving my cock deep inside of him time after time, and Chad was moaning and pushing back against me, trying to get me as deep inside as he could, and he was saying, fuck me fuck me fuck me . . .

And I came, drops of white shooting out of my cock and mingling with the hot shower water.

He’s out there waiting for you and you’re in here jacking your cock while you think about fucking him. Classy.

I turned the water off and grabbed a towel, cursing myself as I dried off. I hung the towel on the rack and walked into the bedroom, half expecting to see him naked on the bed—

He wasn’t there.

I threw on a pair of underwear, grabbed a pair of jean shorts, and slid a CSUP tank top on over my head. I walked back down the hall and grabbed a Coke out of the refrigerator, taking a long swallow. I looked into the living room through the bar window.

Chad was sitting on my couch, paging through an issue of GQ Blair had loaned me. “This coffee is really good.” He smiled at me, putting the magazine down. “I somehow didn’t have you pegged as a GQ reader, though.”

I nodded. “Blair loaned it to me. He thinks I need to learn how to dress better.” I could have bitten my tongue off as soon as the words came out. Nice move, why don’t you make yourself out to be an even bigger dork than he already thinks you are?

He looked me up and down. “Well, no offense, Jordy, but you could really use some help.” He reached out and ruffled my hair. “What happened to that really cute hairstyle you had during Rush?”

He was touching my hair! “Oh.” I bit my lip as he pulled his hand back. “Blair helped me with it, but I couldn’t figure out how to do it myself, so I stopped trying.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Do you have any product?”

I nodded.

“Then come on, I’ll show you,” he said, pulling me back down the hall to my bedroom. He pulled my desk chair into the bathroom, plopped me down in it, and showed me how to style my hair. The entire time I was so conscious of how close his body was to me it was all I could do to remember to breathe. I could sense his body heat, and every once in a while he brushed against me. Was that deliberate? No, someone like him likes guys like Jacob, remember? Not guys like you. Forget about it. He’s just being nice.

“There,” he said, stepping back when he was finished. “Now, doesn’t that look better? And you saw how easy it was to do. You can do it yourself from now on.”

“Yeah.” It did look better, a lot better. When Blair had tried to show me, it hadn’t made sense to me. But the way Chad explained it, it made sense. It was easy. I could do it myself. “Yeah, I can. Thanks, Chad.”

“Not a problem.” He smiled at me. “Now, do you have any other shorts besides those?”

“Shorts?” I looked at myself in the mirror. “What’s wrong with these?”

“Darling, they aren’t flattering.” He shook his head. “Don’t you want to look your best?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then you need to burn those shorts.” He turned me around. “Now look at your butt in the mirror.”

I looked over my shoulder. “Yes?” I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to see. My butt looked like it always did.

“Those shorts make your ass look like a billboard,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, those shorts are in style—and expensive—but just because something’s in style doesn’t mean you should wear it. The whole point of clothes is to enhance the way you look, and if something isn’t flattering you shouldn’t wear it. Even if you are the only person in the world who isn’t.” He raised the back of my T-shirt. “See? The cut of these shorts makes the rolls around your waist look even bigger—and your ass look shapeless and wide. That’s a major, major no-no for a gay man, Jordy.” He winked at me. “You’re selling your ass, so you want it to look as good as it can. Where do you keep your shorts?”

“They’re in the bottom drawer of the dresser,” I said absently, staring at my reflection. He was right. My ass looked gigantic, and the way my waist rolled over the waistband was really unappealing. But it had always looked like that. How could anything make it look different? I sighed. I was a dumpy, lumpy guy. I shook my head and walked into the bedroom. He was on his knees in front of my cabinet, the bottom drawer pulled out as he rifled through all my new shorts.

“Here.” He pulled out a different pair of jean shorts. He held them up and pursed his lips. “These should do the trick. Put these on,” he commanded, “and take those awful shorts you’re wearing and throw them out in the trash where they belong. Promise me you’ll never wear that cut again.”

I hesitated. I didn’t want to undress in front of him. I didn’t want him to see my erection.

“Don’t be shy!” He snapped his fingers. “Come on! Off with those shorts! You heard me! We’re wasting time!”

I took a deep breath and pulled the shorts off. He looked away until I had pulled the new pair on. He smiled, then whistled. “That’s so much better. Go look at yourself in the mirror.”

I went back into the bathroom and looked over my shoulder at the mirror again. He was right. The cut of these shorts gave my ass shape and made it look smaller. I pulled my shirt up, and the roll was still there—but it didn’t look nearly as bad as it had in the other shorts.

“I told you so,” he said from the bathroom door, before tossing me another shirt. “Try this shirt.”

I changed shirts, and almost whistled myself. Once I’d tucked the shirt into my shorts, my waist looked smaller and my shoulders wider. “Wow.” I couldn’t get over how much better I looked.

“See?” He grinned. “Your clothes should flatter you and make you look better. They should play up your good points and hide your flaws.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” I couldn’t stop staring at myself. “You don’t have any flaws to hide. Me, I have to hide almost everything.”

He rolled his eyes. “Trust me, I have plenty of flaws. I just know how to hide them, is all.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And you’re being much too hard on yourself.” He stood behind me, looking over my shoulder into the mirror. “You’ve got lovely skin, and when your hair’s styled properly, it looks great. You’ve got a nice frame—nice broad shoulders, and strong legs.” He smacked his own. “I really have to work on mine. I was cursed with my father’s chicken legs. And this great big huge ass.”

“You have a nice ass,” I replied.

“That’s very kind of you.” He smiled at me in the mirror. “Come on, I’m starving. Let’s go get something to eat.”

“You’re so lucky,” he said when we were back in the car and heading out to breakfast. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to come from money. I grew up kind of poor.” He made a face. “My dad makes good money, but he resents spending every cent, and won’t spend one if he can possibly help it.”

“Wow,” I replied, not sure what to really say.

“My dad’s a prick,” he said angrily, his face flushing for a moment, “but my mom’s great, and so are my brothers and sisters. I’m the first one in my family to go to college. You’d think my dad would be cool with that, but he thinks I think I’m better than everyone else. As if I could be worse than him,” he said, his voice dripping scorn. “I don’t go back there very often. I always stay here on breaks. Polk is my home now.” He shook his head, blond hair flying. “And he just hates the gay thing. Are your parents cool with it?”

“I haven’t told them yet,” I admitted. “I don’t know how to bring it up. But I’m sure they’ll be okay with it. My dad’s assistant Lars is gay, and he’s like a member of the family.”

“My dad likes to pretend I’m straight.” Chad sighed. “He refuses to even talk about it. When I came out to my parents—he just ignored me. He’s never acknowledged it.”

“I’m sorry,” I stammered, not sure what else to say.

“Oh, don’t be.” He waved his hand. “It doesn’t bother me. Turn into this parking lot here. Have you ever eaten here before?” He grinned at me. “It’s great.”

The Iron Skillet was packed with college students, but a hostess led us to a booth in the back right away. I didn’t see anyone I recognized, but Chad waved at a number of guys and girls on our way back to the booth. She left us with menus, then disappeared. Within a moment a harried-looking woman in her late forties placed glasses of water on our table. “Hey, Marge.” Chad winked at her. “Rough morning?”

“When you get to my age, Chad, every morning is a rough morning.” She shrugged, resigned. “It’s a usual Saturday morning. Everyone needing grease to kill their hangovers. You want your usual?”

He nodded, and she turned to me. “Um, what’s his usual?” I asked as I looked over the menu. I’d never been much of a breakfast eater. I usually just had coffee and a piece of peanut butter toast.

She sighed. “Egg white mushroom omelet, wheat toast dry, coffee, and orange juice.”

“I’ll have that, too.” I smiled back at her as she took our menus and hurried back to the kitchen to put our orders in.

“You eat healthy?” Chad asked with a slight smile.

“Not really,” I admitted, feeling my face start to color. “It just sounded good.”

“You should start thinking about what you put into your body,” he replied. “You’re never too young to start taking care of yourself. My father is a fat pig,” he snapped. “I’ll never end up like that.” He paused as Marge brought our coffee. He thanked her and she walked away with the pot. “I’m serious, Jordy. I mean, you should start thinking about things like that. I mean, you have potential—a lot of potential, and it’s a shame you’re wasting it.”

“Potential?” I took a sip of my coffee. “What do you mean?”

“You have a good face.” He scrutinized me. “And a pretty good frame to build on—those wide shoulders and big legs. But you’re out of shape. If you dropped a few pounds, ate right, and started working out—and dressing better, why, every guy would want you.” He winked at me. “And no offense, but you have a really big dick.”

I gaped at him.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t help but notice when you were changing. Gay guys always notice.” A smile played at his lips. “Seriously, if you started working out and got into shape—a nice-looking guy with a great body and a big dick? You could have anything you wanted, trust me.”

“I’m not really into exercise,” I admitted. Physical Activities classes at St. Bernard had been one of the banes of my existence there. I wasn’t terribly coordinated, and my attempts to be athletic had earned even more scorn from my horrible schoolmates.

He put his hands up. “Okay. Just trying to be helpful.”

We talked about a lot over that breakfast. Chad opened up to me about many things, not just his family, but his hopes and dreams for the future. I felt honored. He was confiding in me his own dark secrets. He told me his fears about never finding someone to fall in love with, about growing old alone, not being a success, and winding up like his own father. I listened to him, and the more he talked the more convinced I was that the two of us were meant to be together.

And he was interested in me. He listened to my horror stories about St. Bernard, shaking his head at the cruel indignities I’d endured at the hands of my savage classmates. It was nice.

For the first time, I felt like I had a real friend.

And when I dropped him off at the house, he’d invited me to join him on Wednesday night. “Me, Brandon, and Rees go out every Wednesday. It’s so much fun, Jordy—you’ll love it. It’s fifty-cent-drink night at Fusions, this great gay dance club downtown. It’s always crowded on Wednesday nights. Hot, hot, HOT guys! It’s a blast.” He smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “We’ll have to get you a fake ID.”

I walked on air all the way back to my apartment. I had another date with him! Oh, sure, Rees and Brandon were going to be there, too—but he was going to get me a fake ID. He’d invited me and wanted me there. It was beginning.

All of my dreams were going to come true.

I couldn’t stop thinking about going to my first gay bar. I wanted to talk to Blair and Jeff about it, but I never ran into them—and even though they always said I could call whenever I wanted to, I didn’t want to bother them. They were both so busy, and I could always tell them about it later.

Chad took me shopping Wednesday afternoon to pick out something for me to wear, and that night the bouncer just glanced at my ID and waved me in.

It was only nine, but the place was already crowded with young gay men. One or two I recognized from around campus, but I couldn’t stop staring. There was every type of gay man imaginable in there. I followed the boys to the bar. The bartender was gorgeous, wearing a yellow singlet that hid nothing. “Get Jordy a vodka cranberry,” Chad instructed Brandon, who was ordering. I started to protest that I didn’t drink, but Chad put his arm around me. I was conscious of how close he was to me. “So, what do you think?”

“It’s unreal,” I replied as a guy in tight jeans and no shirt walked by, checking Chad out. Chad winked at him.

Brandon pressed my drink into my hand. I sipped it. It wasn’t bad.

“Finish that drink,” Rees said in my ear. “And we’ll go dance.”

“Oh, I don’t dance,” I demurred.

“You don’t dance?” Brandon made a face. “What kind of gay man are you?”

“I don’t know how.”

“It’s okay.” Chad chugged down the rest of his drink, tossing the plastic cup into the trash. “Just watch us.”

I followed them to the edge of the dance floor. Someone was singing about a bad romance, and the dance floor was crowded. The three of them made a semicircle and started dancing. They took their shirts off and tucked them through their belts. I couldn’t help but smile. They looked beautiful out there on the dance floor under the flashing lights as they started moving to the music. Chad was the best dancer of the three. The other two moved to the beat but looked a little clumsy. The music seemed to channel through Chad. Every movement he made was in sync to the music, from the hip movements to his steps to how he placed his arms. He tossed his head at the right moment in the music. I stood there, transfixed, unable to take my eyes off him.

He was just so beautiful.

A few drinks later, they managed to drag me out there, but I kept my shirt on. Some woman was wailing about a halo, and I tried to do what Chad did. I tried to sync my body to the lyrics and the music, and lost myself. It was fun. I was a little dizzy from the liquor, and everything seemed lost in time, somehow, as though this was where I’d always been meant to be. In that moment I felt loved and accepted. St. Bernard was my past, and I was never going back there. I had a great friend who was helping me with discovering my potential, and his two friends were nice, and out there on the dance floor I felt at home with all of them in a way I never had before. In that moment I loved everyone on the dance floor, but most of all Chad for showing me this, for sharing this with me.

I thought my heart would explode from joy.

“You’re a good dancer,” Brandon said in the car on our way back home. “Really, Jordy, you surprised me.”

“I told you he’d be a good dancer.” Chad reached over in the backseat and squeezed my shoulder. “I’m so proud of you.”

Whenever I wasn’t in class or doing some pledge duty, I seemed to fall into the habit of hanging around with the three of them. They made me laugh, and they were so nice. I didn’t mind helping them with their homework, or with their papers, because it meant the sooner they were done the sooner we could go have some kind of adventure.

Brandon and Rees sometimes picked up guys when we were at Fusions, but Chad never did. I wondered what had happened between him and Jacob—but never had the nerve to ask. Jacob was never around, it seemed, and Chad seemed to like that just fine. I was still sorry he hadn’t picked me for his little brother, and I sensed he was, too. Every so often at a pledge meeting, I thought about asking Jacob—but it wasn’t any of my business.

And now, it was Wednesday again—and the reason I was even at the house in the first place was to meet the guys and head out to Fusions. I’d been heading down the first floor hall to the stairs when Roger opened his door.

I don’t have time for this. I’m going to be late meeting the guys, I thought—and promptly felt ashamed of myself.

Roger folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe, not saying anything.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” I said again. “I’ve been kind of busy.”

“Uh-huh.” His face was expressionless.

“Roger, I—”

“Oh, there you are, Jordy!” Chad called from down the hall. Brandon and Rees were with him. They walked toward where we were standing. “Are you ready?”

“You’re going somewhere with them?” Roger asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re just going off to fifty-cent-drink night at Fusions.” Chad gave him a brilliant smile, draping an arm around my shoulders. “Jordy loves to dance, don’t you, Jordy.”

“It’s a lot of fun,” I admitted. An idea hit me. “Why don’t you come with us?”

“Oh, Roger doesn’t want to go with us,” Chad said before Roger could say anything. “It’s not his kind of place, is it, Roger?”

“No, I guess it isn’t,” Roger said slowly. He looked at me, his face completely blank. “Have fun, Jordy.”

The guys were already walking out the house’s back door. “Roger, let’s do something soon, okay?” I said. I felt bad. “Dinner and a movie, maybe?”

“Come on, Jordy!” Chad called from the parking lot.

Roger looked at me sadly. “No, Jordy, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“JORDY!”

Roger just shook his head. “Your friends are waiting for you.”

“Roger—”

His door shut in my face. I put my hand up to knock when Chad called me again. Well, if that’s the way you want it, Roger, then that’s how it’s going to be.

And I walked out the back door to join my friends.

Half an hour later, I was on the dance floor.

I’d completely forgotten about Roger.