Last Ride of the Night Ch. 03

I was on one of the beat-up couches in the lounge, controller in my lap, half into the game and half just existing in the noise of it. Tom and Donovan were going at each other over a game of Smash, which they did every time, and James was working through a bag of chips with the focus of someone who hadn't eaten since morning. The place smelled like pizza and something vaguely human. It felt fine, normal even.

"Tom, you're actually terrible," Donovan said. "How do you talk that much trash and then get destoryed?"

Tom pointed at the screen. "Lag."

"Bro, we're on the same console."

I laughed and leaned back into the cushion.

The front door opened and Grayson came in wearing gym shorts and a tank top, protein shaker bottle in one hand, phone in the other. He looked at the room.

"Smells like ass in here," he said, dropping into the armchair.

"That's you," James said. "You sweat more than anyone I've ever seen."

"Because I actually lift things." He reached over and took chips from the bowl on the table without asking. "Unlike you."

Everyone laughed. He smiled, satisfied with himself, and leaned back.

He didn't look at me specifically. He just settled into the group the way he always did, easy and without trying. The conversation moved on to weekend plans, a concert someone had heard about, whether there was still beer from the last party.

Tom nodded at me after a while. "You're lucky, Evan. No roommate. Must be nice."

Grayson looked over. "Wait, you don't have a roommate?"

"He dropped out like two weeks in," I said. "They haven't filled his spot yet."

"Whole room to yourself." He smirked. "Enjoy it."

Nothing in his tone. Just a comment. But the back of my neck tingled anyway.

A while later he stretched and stood up. "Later, guys." He glanced back at me. "You too, roomless wonder."

"Creative," I said.

He chuckled and walked out. I watched him go for exactly one second and then turned back to the screen.

"You're up next Evan," someone said. "Don't embarrass yourself."

***

I was studying late one night when I heard two short knocks at my door. I opened the door and Grayson was there in a hoodie and joggers, hair still damp.

"What are you doing here?" I kept my voice down.

"You know why," he said.

He stepped in, nudged the door shut with his heel, and kissed me. His hand went to the back of my neck and I pulled back just enough to get words out.

"What are you doing? Last time there was no kissing."

"Depends on the mood," he said, close enough that I felt the words. "I don't always want it that rough."

He kissed me again and I stopped arguing. He tasted like mint. His thumb moved along my jaw and then he cupped my face and tilted my head where he wanted it, no rush. I felt myself relax into it. My hands found the hem of his hoodie and he lifted his arms and let me pull it off. I pushed my palms under his t-shirt, over the hard lines of his stomach, and he exhaled against my mouth.

He turned me so my back was against the door and kissed down my neck. I got his t-shirt off and he got mine, and we pressed together for a moment, skin to skin. He put his hands on my hips, and pressed his bulge into mine. I didn't pull away, I got hard.

We made it to the bed. He pushed me down and followed, bracing over me so his weight sank in without crushing me. His mouth went to my jaw, my collarbone, he was thorough with his teasing. When I reached for his waistband he caught my wrist, kissed my hand once, then guided it lower. I fumbled with the drawstring and he laughed quietly and did it himself. We took the rest of our clothes off, throwing them across the room.

He kissed me while his hand moved between us, steady and practiced. I heard the foil of the condom being opened, then felt him there, lining up, his breath warm against my cheek. The first push made me gasp. He stopped, let me adjust, then pressed in deeper. My hands went to his shoulder blades and he kissed me until they loosened.

He started slow, and measured. The kind of pace that takes your thoughts apart one at a time. His hand settled on my jaw, tilting my face so he could keep kissing me through it. I tried to hold back but couldn't. The bed moved under us, his breathing got rougher, my hips moved up to meet him without me deciding to.

He shifted the angle and something inside me lit up.

"Fuck," I said, low.

He kissed me and kept the pace, deeper now. I grabbed the sheets, grabbed him, anything I could get my hands on. The pressure built and then broke all at once. I came hard, breath gone, face against his neck.

He drove in twice more and finished, hips pressed tight, a rough sound against my ear that he didn't quite swallow. Then it was just breathing and the thud of my pulse.

He rolled away. Dealt with the condom. Got tissues from my desk and wiped me clean, tossed them, then pulled his joggers and hoodie back on. Phone into his pocket.

"Later," he said, the same as always. And the door clicked shut.

I lay there looking at the ceiling with my heart still going fast and his smell still in the room. I couldn't land on a thought that made sense. It felt good, better than good, and somehow that made it worse.

I didn't know what this was. Was this real? Was it just sex? I only knew I wanted to hear that knock again.

***

On a Tuesday afternoon, I was in the library group room. It had glass walls, a door that never fully closed, the low hum of the building coming through anyway. Tyler took the corner table. Luis was already there, calculator out. I dropped my textbook and notebook and sat across from them.

"We doin' a practice set?" Tyler asked.

"Yeah." I flipped to the right chapter. "Let's knock it out."

Mia from stats came in a minute later, slightly out of breath, hair clipped up.

"Sorry," she said, dropping into the chair next to me. "Printer war."

"You won," Tyler said.

She reached for the textbook. I kept my hand on the edge and slid it back to the middle.

"Share," she said.

"I am sharing," I said.

She angled it so we could both see and we started in. I worked steps out loud, Luis went straight for the answer key, Tyler punched numbers and called them out. I pushed my notebook forward when we hit a checkpoint.

Mia leaned in to read. "Your handwriting is really neat," she said, low. "Show-off."

"Can't help it," I said.

She circled my final answer, wrote yes next to it, and added a small heart beside the word.

Tyler did a water run and came back with bottles from the front desk. He set one by my elbow.

"Hydrate, king," he said.

"Thanks, Mom."

On a longer proof Mia slid her chair an inch closer. Her shoulder almost touched mine. She watched my pencil go through the steps and tapped the last line.

"Yeah," she said. "That's it."

She stayed close for a second. Then she tilted her head.

"You always smell this good when you study?"

"I always smell good. The studying's optional."

She laughed. Tyler snorted. Luis didn't look up.

I noticed the flirting. I didn't push back on it or into it. She was cute. But I was thinking about someone else and I couldn't make myself stop.

We finished the section by six o'clock. Mia capped her pen and sat back.

"You're weirdly organized for a frat guy," she said.

"Don't stereotype me. I'm more complex than that."

"You definitely have that frat guy body though," she said, squeezing my arm. She looked me right in the eye and bit her lower lip.

"OK, we're gonna go," Tyler said, clearly reading the room.

"I have to go too," I said, stepping back. Mia's face went neutral for a second before she smiled again.

We stacked our stuff and filed out. Luis pocketed his calculator. Tyler did a lazy fist-bump around the table.

"Same time next week?" Mia asked.

"Works for me," I said.

She gave me a quick smile on the way out, nothing extra, and we went our separate ways into the main stacks.

I took the stairs with that good steady feeling you get when you've actually done something useful. I felt like a normal person. A student. Not just a frat guy who didn't know what he was doing.

Grayson was still there under all of it. But for a couple of hours he'd been quiet.

***

A week later the frat house was back at full volume. Bass in the floors, red cups everywhere, the cowboy lights from Rodeo Night still up because no one could be bothered to take them down.

I moved through the living room with Tom and Donovan. Pong table, chips, flip cup. Easy night. Nothing crazy.

Grayson was around at first. White tee, dark jeans, backwards cap, leaning on the kitchen island like he owned the floor. He was trading insults with Craig and James.

"You up next?" Tom asked him, pointing at the pong table.

"Nah, let Craig miss for me," Grayson said.

"Rude," Craig said, and made the shot. Everyone cheered.

A group of girls came in and the energy shifted around Grayson the way it always did. One took his cap and put it on her own head. Another pulled his sleeve. He smiled and let it happen.

I talked to a couple of first-years near the speakers who wanted to know if the mechanical bull was coming back. I told them insurance said no. They laughed and moved on. I didn't push anything.

Tyler found me by the kitchen.

"You on cup duty later?"

"Already did a round," I said. "Donovan owes the next one."

"Yup," Donovan said. "Also never let Craig pour."

Mia showed up by the back door with two friends. Hair down, black dress. She spotted me and came over, her hand warm on my arm.

"Evan. You clean up good."

"Thanks. You too."

"Dance with me," she said, already pulling.

I let her drag me to the improvised dance floor in the middle of the room. We found space near the edge of the crowd and she moved well and I kept it light, hands brief at her hips and then back to neutral. She rose on her toes.

"You live close, right? Your dorm?"

"Five minutes," I said.

Her hand landed on my chest. "Convenient."

We stayed for another song. She leaned in again. "It's loud in here. We could go somewhere quieter."

A month ago I wouldn't have thought twice about it. I would have taken her back and had a good time and not felt anything complicated after. But I wasn't interested tonight and I knew it, and pretending otherwise would've been unfair to her.

"I told Tom I'd help with cleanup," I said. "Can't leave yet."

She held my gaze for a second, then smiled. "Maybe another time."

I walked her back to her friends. "You good?"

"I'm good," she said, squeezing my wrist once before letting go.

It was getting late and the party was dying down. Fewer people, less noise. I went back to the kitchen where most of the brothers were. Tom and Donovan were stacking remaining cups.

"Prez clocking out with a plus-one again," Craig said, then corrected himself, "plus-two actually. Lucky bastard." We all turned and watched as Grayson made his way up the stairs with two good looking girls.

"Man's consistent," James said.

I nodded and finished my cup. That's how it was. I grabbed a trash bag and did a loop of the room, cups and plates and a slice of pizza face-down on the rug. Donovan held the bag open. Tom wiped down the kitchen island.

By three it looked less wrecked. I told the guys I was heading out and got a couple of tired fist bumps.

Outside the air was cool. Campus was quiet except for a skateboard somewhere down the block and a burst of laughter that faded fast. I took the long way past the quad.

I walked back alone and felt clearer than I had all night about what I actually wanted.

***

Two weeks after the party, it was close to midnight when I received his text.

Grayson: Come to my room.

I stared at it for a second, then grabbed a hoodie and went. The house was mostly dark, a TV light showing on the second floor. I took the side stairs as to not be seen and found his door was cracked open.

I knocked once and went in. He was at his desk in a black tee and sweats, feet bare, phone face down. He looked up and smiled.

"No girl tonight?" I said.

"Why would I need a girl when I have you?"

It landed low in my chest. I kept my face straight.

He crossed the room and kissed me. Warm, sure, no rush. His hand went to the back of my neck and I leaned into it. I kissed him back. He smiled against my mouth and walked me backward until my legs hit the bed. I got his tee up and off, he pulled my hoodie and shirt and then my joggers, and I let him.

He pushed me back onto the bed and came over me. His hand slid down my stomach and wrapped around me. He stroked me slowly until I was breathing hard, then dipped his head and took me in.

"Yeah," I said, the word coming out unsteady.

He pulled off and came up to kiss me. I was already buzzing. I rolled him onto his back and took his clothes off. He was already hard, thick against his stomach, and I took my time with it, hand at the base, tongue under the head, lips sealing around him and working deeper each pass. He was big and I worked for it. He watched me once, eyes darker than the room, then let his head fall back.

"Oh fuck," he said, low, more like a groan. His hands tightened in my hair.

I found a rhythm and held it. My jaw ached and I didn't stop. His stomach tightened under my palm. He said my name once, quiet, like he hadn't meant to.

His hand touched my shoulder. "Come sit on my face," he said.

I moved and straddled him carefully, and lowered myself and felt his mouth find me. I bent forward and took him back in and we found it together, messy and slow and good. His tongue was doing an amazing job at loosening me up.

When I was shaking he eased me off and sat up and kissed me until the room steadied. He reached into the drawer, tore the condom, rolled it on. He lubed us, it was cool at first but then warmed up. He was patient and I nodded to let him know I was ready.

I turned and he came in behind me, hands on my hips. The first push stretched me wide and I grabbed the sheets and breathed through it. Then the slide, deep and full. He set a slow pace and kept it. Every drive pulled a sound out of me I didn't plan. I pushed back and he met me there.

He leaned over me and kissed my shoulder, my neck.

"Turn," he said.

He slipped out and I rolled and he pulled me in and pressed back into me. Missionary. Close. His chest against mine, his breath against my mouth. He watched my face like he was reading something. I put my hand on his jaw and kissed him and he kissed me back and didn't pull away. He moved again, deeper, slower, and the bed shifted under us. I wrapped my legs around him and kept him there. My hands found his back and held.

It felt different from the previous position. The closeness did something that being on my hands and knees couldn't.

I came first, between us. He put his hand at the back of my neck and didn't look away. He kissed me once, set his hips, and finished a few breaths later, pressed in deep, a low sound in his throat.

He stayed there for a moment. Both of us breathing. Then he slid out, grabbed tissues and a towel from the chair, cleaned me up carefully, wiped himself, and hit the trash.

I sat up and put on my clothes. I was making my way out of the room when he stopped me.

"Wait," he said.

He pulled his sweats on and came over and put his hand on my hip and tilted my face up and kissed me. In a very gentle way, which left me with my eyes closed a second longer than the kiss. It was a good night kiss.

"Good night," he said.

"Night," I said, quieter than I meant to.

I left by the side stairs. The hall was empty. Outside, the campus lights made pools on the walkway and my legs felt unsteady the whole way back to my dorm.

I was sure about one thing now. I didn't just like him. I wanted him.