Chapter 12
12
ELLIOT
M onday rolls around with the subtlety of a horn signaling the end of a period. It’s the first day of sunlight in eight days, and I’m walking across campus when suddenly my backpack decides it’s had enough of doing all the heavy lifting.
Everything for my back-to-back-to-back classes—books, papers, pens, and pencils—spills onto the pavement, and I curse under my breath as I pick everything up. I reach for a stack of papers comprising a research project, only for the wind to pick up and take it on a joyride.
“No!” That research is due today; without it, I’ll fail the course.
“Don’t worry, Elliot! I’ll get it back.” Out of nowhere, Gerard swoops into the picture, a knight in shining Under Armour.
He chases after my work with determination and speed.I watch in awe as he leaps over a bench, his muscular legs propelling him forward to grab a page before it flutters into a nearby puddle.
If I weren’t pissed at my stupid backpack for exploding like a pinata, I’d be filming this moment for posterity. And also to jerk off over because Gerard’s bouncing ass is a mesmerizing sight.
When he bends down to pick up another paper off the ground, I nearly faint at the sheer volume of ass that’s hoisted heavenward. I glance around the quad, surprised that no one is paying us any mind. Perhaps fate is intervening on my behalf?
I have to physically restrain myself from reaching out to Gerard when he jogs back to me, panting and glistening with a light sheen of sweat. But inside, my heart is tap dancing to “Baby Got Back.”
“I think I got them all.” He hands me the papers, and our fingers touch briefly, sending a bolt of static electricity up my arm.
“Thanks. You really saved your ass—I mean, mine. Saved me. With the pages. Running and catching them. Like…that.” Real smooth, Elliot. “You didn’t have to.”
Gerard shrugs. To him, chasing papers in a blowing wind is another form of exercise. “I wanted to. It also looked like you could use the help.”
I bite back the sarcastic retort on the tip of my tongue. He’s not wrong. Thanks to him, I don’t have to redo hours of research and plead my case with the professor to allow a late submission.
“I appreciate your help,” I say sincerely. “You’re an honest-to-God hero.”
A light blush stains Gerard’s cheeks, and the tips of his ears turn adorably pink. He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly shy as can be. “Nah, I’m no hero. Just a guy who wants to know if his friend wants me to carry his books to class?”
My heart skips a beat at the word “friend.” It’s such a simple term, yet coming from Gerard’s lips, it’s a promise of something more. A connection, a bond, a thread tying us together in this world of college life.
Do I want Gerard to be my friend? The logical part of my brain screams, No . I’ve gotten so comfortable in my little bubble with Jackson and Sarah. They understand me and never push me beyond my boundaries. It’s safe. Familiar. Predictable.
Being friends with Gerard would be an adventure, though. He’d probably drag me to hockey games and force me to socialize with his rowdy teammates. It would be terrifying, exhilarating, and everything in between.
And yet, even as I contemplate the possibility of friendship, a traitorous part of my heart dares to dream of more. It imagines Gerard’s strong arms wrapped around me and his soft, plump lips pressed against mine.
No, I can’t go there. No matter how badly I want to, I can’t let myself fall for the charming hockey player. But as I gaze into his bright blue eyes, I nod. “Sure, you can carry my books. But don’t think this means we’re best friends now.”
Gerard’s face splits into a grin. “Of course not. We’re two guys walking to class, one of them carrying books. Totally casual.”
He winks at me, and my cheeks heat up. Damn him and his effortless charm. I thrust my books into his waiting hands and do my best to ignore how my skin tingles where it brushes against his.
Gerard takes a peek at my books. Today, I have the bright blue Introduction to Human Sexuality . The dull gray Calculus for Masochist . Also, the slim yet deceptively dense A History of Western Philosophy.
“Quite the eclectic mix you’ve got here.” He shifts the stack of books in his muscular arms, biceps flexing beneath his tight T-shirt as we set forth to my first class. “ Introduction to Human Sexuality , huh? Sounds…stimulating.”
I nearly choke on my saliva at his choice of words. Is he trying to kill me with innuendo? “It’s a fascinating class, believe it or not. We learn about the biological, psychological, and sociocultural aspects of human sexual behavior.”
Gerard nods, genuinely intrigued. “And how does that compare to the thrills of Calculus for Masochists ?”
“Oh, you know, derivatives and integrals really get my motor running,” I deadpan. “But I have to say, pondering the great philosophical questions in A History of Western Philosophy is what keeps me up at night. Metaphorically speaking, of course.”
“Of course,” Gerard chuckles. His gaze lingers on the brightly colored sexuality textbook. “So, which one’s your favorite? ”
I don’t even have to think about it. “ Intro to Human Sexuality , hands down. It’s opened my eyes to a lot of new perspectives and challenges a lot of assumptions people have.” A smile tugs at my lips as I reflect further on the subject. “For example, did you know that sexual orientation exists on a spectrum? It’s not only gay or straight—there’s a whole range of possibilities in between.”
Gerard hums thoughtfully. “The Kinsey Scale, right?”
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Wait, you know about the Kinsey Scale? I’m impressed.”
He shrugs, a playful glint in his eye. “I may be a jock, but I’m not a total meathead. Also, the hockey team is more diverse than you might think.”
I let that revelation sink in for a moment. I knew about Oliver, but the idea that some of BSU’s other star hockey players fall somewhere on the sexuality spectrum is both surprising and strangely comforting. Knowing others grapple with similar questions and experiences makes me feel less alone.
“That’s cool,” I say sincerely. “I think it’s important for people to be open and honest about who they are, you know? Even if it’s not always easy.”
Gerard nods, his expression growing more serious. “Definitely. It takes a lot of courage to be true to yourself, especially when the world isn’t always accepting.” He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “I admire that about you, Elliot. You don’t try to be someone you’re not.”
A flush creeps up my neck at the unexpected compliment. “I…thanks. I try, anyway. But some days are harder than others.”
“I get that.”
Our conversation trickles into silence. Above us, the breeze rustles the leaves overhead. Around us, students scurry to class. A few smile at Gerard when they notice him, but he doesn’t return the favor. He’s lost in thought, his brow furrowing slightly as he wrestles with some internal dilemma. He takes a deep breath, and his broad chest rises and falls with the motion.
“Can I tell you something?” His voice is uncharacteristically serious, and his usual sunny disposition becomes pensive. “Something personal?”
“Of course,” I reply, my curiosity piqued. “What’s on your mind?”
Gerard’s blue eyes meet mine. They’re filled with nervousness but also determination. “It’s about my dad. He’s…he’s bisexual.”
I almost trip. I was not expecting that revelation. “Oh. Wow. That’s…thank you for telling me.”
“I haven’t talked about it with anyone outside my family and a few of the guys on the team. But I trust you, Elliot. And I want you to know this part of me.”
“I’m honored that you’re comfortable sharing this with me, Gerard. Really.”
Gerard nods, and a few strands of his wavy blond hair fall across his forehead. I resist the urge to reach out and brush them away. “My dad came out to my sister, Lily, and me when I was in middle school. It was a big deal for him, you know? But he said he wanted to be honest with us. My mom knew already. They’ve known each other since college, and it wasn’t a secret or anything.”
“That must have taken a lot of courage for him to tell you guys.”
“It did,” Gerard agrees. “But he’s always been that way—brave, authentic, unapologetically himself. He taught Lily and me to always be accepting of others, no matter who they love or how they identify.”
There’s a fondness in Gerard’s voice as he speaks of his father. I smile, imagining a younger Gerard learning these valuable lessons from his dad while seated at the kitchen table. It’s cute. “Your dad sounds like a great guy.”
Gerard’s face lights up. “He’s my best friend.”
He pauses, considering something else. “The team is second. And you, Elliot? You’re right up there, too. Number three on my best friends list.”
His gaze meets mine, soft and sincere, and my breath catches in my throat. I duck my head, hoping to hide the blush staining my cheeks.
“I…I’m flattered. You’d be third on my list, too. After Jackson and Sarah, of course.”
“Of course.”
Gerard switches the conversation to his latest hockey practice, and I steal glances at him when he isn’t looking. The way his muscles ripple under his shirt, the way his nose crinkles when he laughs, the way his ass bounces with each step, it’s all so…alluring.
And then a thought hits me. “Hey, aren’t you going to be late for your class?”
Gerard stops mid-sentence and shrugs. He jostles my books slightly as he steers me around a pile of soggy leaves. “Yeah, probably. But it’s only Psych. Oliver’s in that class, so I’ll copy his notes. No biggie.”
I frown at him. “No biggie? Gerard, you shouldn’t miss your class because you’re helping me.”
Gerard smiles, utterly unbothered by the consequences. “I’d rather be a few minutes late than see you stressed. I get the sense that good grades mean a lot to you.”
He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Of course, he’d prioritize my needs over his. And he’s not wrong. Grades do mean a lot to me.
Being here at BSU on a scholarship is both a blessing and a curse. I’m able to attend an amazing institution, but there’s no room for error, not even a hiccup. Every assignment, every test, and every paper carries the weight of my future. One lousy grade could send everything I’ve worked for crashing down around me.
Instead of having wild and crazy nights with the rest of the student body, I study until my eyesight blurs and my head pounds. I survive on the campus food when I can and vending machine snacks when I can’t. And rent, well, that’s not something I’m willing to talk about—to anyone.
Sometimes, when the pressure pushes down on my chest and makes it hard to breathe, I wonder if it’s all worth it. The constant stress and the never-ending struggle to keep my head above water.
I wish I could be someone whose tuition is paid for with trust funds and financial safety nets. I wish I could go through life knowing that one misstep won’t send me tumbling into an abyss of debt and destitution. But this is the path I’ve chosen. The price I have to pay for a shot at a better future.
I have to believe that it will all be worth it in the end. That the sleepless nights and my growling stomach will one day be nothing more than a distant memory.
Shaking off my depressing thoughts, I notice Gerard staring down at me with concern. I flash him a small smile and push my worries and fears back to where they belong—in the back of my mind.
We finally arrive at Russo Hall, slightly out of breath but with minutes to spare. I lead Gerard up the well-worn steps and pull open the giant oak doors. Our footsteps echo in the cavernous entryway—his more than mine. The interior features dark wood, and the air is heavy with the scent of old books.
Gerard’s eyes widen as he takes in the building’s grandeur. “Wow, I’ve never been in here before. It’s huge!”
I chuckle at his awe-struck expression. “Yeah, it’s pretty impressive. Did you know this used to be a place of worship before BSU became an educational institution?”
Gerard shakes his head, his blond hair catching the light streaming through the stained glass windows. “No, I had no idea. Tell me more.”
I launch into the history of Russo Hall, my love for learning shining through with every word. “Back in the late 1800s, this was actually a cathedral. The campus was originally founded by a religious order who believed in the power of education to transform lives and uplift communities.”
We stroll through the hallowed halls so I can point out the intricate carvings on the wooden beams and the soaring arches that frame the halls .
“The stained glass windows depict scenes from the Bible, but they also incorporate elements of nature and science. See the one with swirling galaxies and exploding stars? It’s showing the creation of the universe.”
Gerard leans in close to examine the window. His shoulder brushes against mine, sending a tingle down my spine. “That’s amazing. I never would have noticed all those details on my own.”
“I love learning about this kind of stuff. The history, the artistry, the symbolism—it’s all fascinating to me.”
We continue our impromptu tour, with me pointing out other notable features while Gerard listens intently, asks questions, and marvels at each discovery.
As we near my classroom, he turns to me with an impressed grin. “Elliot, you’re a walking encyclopedia. How do you fit all of this in that brain of yours?”
My blush deepens, and I fiddle with the hem of my hoodie. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve always been curious about the world around me.”
“That’s really cool. I wish I had that kind of passion for academics. Most of the time, I can barely remember if I zipped my fly or not.”
My eyes dart down to his crotch, only to remember he’s wearing mesh shorts, not jeans. “Trust me, I get it. But hey, at least you’ve got hockey. That’s your thing.”
He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “True. Skating and scoring goals—that’s about all my brain can handle most days.”
We come to a stop outside of my classroom. “This is me. Thanks again for all your help.”
Gerard’s smile grows wider, brightening his whole face. “Anytime, Elliot. I’m always happy to lend a hand. Or two, in this case.” He glances down at the stack of books still balanced in his arms. “Wait. Are all of these for today?”
“Yeah, I have a full course load.”
Gerard’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “That’s hardcore. When do you find the time to eat?”
His question catches me off guard. No one has ever asked or cared about the minutiae of my daily life. I shrug, trying to play off my surprise. “I don’t. Usually, I’ll grab something from a vending machine.”
Gerard frowns, clearly not satisfied with my answer. “That’s not a proper meal, Elliot. You need actual food to fuel that big brain of yours.”
He carefully extracts the book I need for class, and I choose not to ask how he knows—some things are better left unsaid. I take it from him, and our fingers touch again. But this time, that static electricity zigzags its way right to my heart.
“Here,” Gerard says softly. “I’ll hold onto the rest of these and come back in an hour to walk you to your next class. This way, you don’t have to lug them around all day.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “Gerard, I can’t ask you to be late for more classes.”
“I only have the one today. I’ll be back later.” Then he adds, “With a hearty meal made just for you.”
He flashes me a wink, and this time, I swoon. Hard.