29. Kylie
29
KYLIE
October was a blur of classes, tests, bartending… and being with my guys. That last part was my favorite. We didn’t always have time for a long, drawn-out session ending with lots of orgasms for everyone—me especially. But it made me happy anytime I got to spend time with Jude, Mason, and Parker individually or together.
We still told wicked bedtime stories, but more often than not, they morphed into real, physical touching. Sometimes I’d climb into Parker’s bed. Other times, I’d invite Jude or Mason down to mine. The one thing I didn’t do was to climb up to either of the top bunks. The guys always made me come so hard that I lost control. Common sense dictated it was better to be lower to the ground when that happened.
A few days before Halloween, Mason took Alyssa out to lunch at my urging. Afterwards, he brought her back to the suite and I showed her my beloved bar. She seemed impressed and we regaled her with stories of some of the funny things we’d had happen, such as when I walked in my bathroom one morning and found a fully clothed guy sleeping off his hangover in the bathtub.
She, Mason, and I sat on the balcony and talked for a while— really talked. It sounded like Alyssa had learned to hold her own a bit better in her projects with her male peers—or at least I hoped that’s what’d happened. She also had some interviews lined up, including one in Louisiana. “They’re actually flying me out there,” she gushed.
“Of course. You’re a strong candidate,” Mason said. He stared at the mountains in the distance, so I didn’t think he saw the way Alyssa’s face lit up after he said that. Later, as she was leaving, he gave her a hug, thanked her for joining him for lunch… and then told her that she was not, under any circumstances, allowed to lend me her clothes.
So, it was mostly a success.
November arrived along with a bunch of tests. By that time, Parker was guiding our cohort through other issues, but we’d spent a couple of weeks brainstorming ways to run a fictional bar, and I’d learned a lot.
A week before Thanksgiving, I called my uncle. After we caught up, I told him I wouldn’t be coming home for Thanksgiving because I had so much schoolwork. It wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the whole truth. Jude, Mason, Parker, and I had decided to shoot for another staycation. A lot of students went home over the Thanksgiving holidays, so we figured we’d close the conversation club and spend some quality time making each other scream with pleasure.
I still felt a bit guilty, though, so I talked to my uncle for longer than usual, and I assured I’d be home for Christmas and I’d teach him all the new drinks I’d learned to mix in ‘that dang mile high city’ as he called Denver.
It took me a little while, but I finally figured out Alyssa was disappointed Mason wouldn’t be joining her and her parents for Thanksgiving. Once I realized she was hurt, I called and explained Mason wasn’t avoiding her… he just wanted to spend more time with me. I didn’t go into too many details, but she got the gist and seemed to feel better after that.
And then Thanksgiving arrived and it was five days of bliss. We fooled around so much that Mason renamed it Fucksgiving. It seemed a bit irrelevant, but one night, as we snuggled on the couch and drank cocktails I made, he told me what that term meant to him.
“You know how people say, ‘I don’t give a fuck?’” He had his large arm around my shoulders and I pressed myself against his bare chest. Jude and Parker were out on the balcony.
“Sure.”
“Well, Fucksgiving is kind of the opposite. Instead of not giving a fuck you do give one.”
“So… you mean, like, you care about things.”
“Exactly,” he said, squeezing me tighter. “So yeah, we’re living out our fantasies this weekend and fucking like rabbits, but it’s also like, we care.”
“About?”
He kissed my temple. “Don’t play dumb. About each other.”
That warmed my insides as much as his touch heated my skin. “I care about you.”
“I know,” he said with a smirk. I elbowed him—it was like elbowing steel—and he grinned. “I care about you too.”
“And I care about Jude and Parker.”
“Me too,” he said, and then he grinned. “Though probably not in quite the same way you do.”
“Is that a problem?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Doesn’t seem like it to me. I think we—you and me and Jude and Parker—work. I don’t need to understand it to know it’s true.”
“Me either,” I decided.
“Good,” he said. “Because I’ve just decided the first rule of Fucksgiving is no thinking too hard.”
“It’s a holiday with rules? What’s the second?”
“The second rule of Fucksgiving is that any and all bartenders and women named Kylie must be naked as often as possible.”
I giggled. “Are you sure that’s what it says?”
He nodded solemnly. “I looked it up this morning.” His eyes scanned the oversized sweater I wore and his brow furrowed in mock disapproval. “Now, are you going to obey rule number two, or will I have to punish you?”
“How about both,” I said with a grin, climbing onto his lap, straddling him.
It was the best Fucksgiving ever.
And then it was over. Reality intruded into our happy little bubble. As our fellow grad students returned home after the holidays, a lot of them knocked on our door to ask when the conversation club would be open again. After being interrupted for the fifth time Sunday afternoon, Parker hung up a sign on the door saying the conversation club would resume on Monday evening. After that, only one idiot knocked. Mason answered the door and glared at him so hard the poor guy practically ran down the hallway.
On Monday after classes, I got the bar set up again. Mason had recently expressed an interest in learning to mix drinks—though only the ones he considered to be manly drinks—so he helped. Jude and Parker arranged the furniture and made sure the bathrooms were cleaned and stocked with the essentials.
After we’d finished up, we went out on the balcony for a few minutes. It was too cold to stay out there for long, but the guys knew I needed my mountain fix. Sure, I could see them from inside, too, but out here, I stared at them and breathed in the fresh air, pretending I smelled the evergreens dotting the hills around them.
“Ready to raise the bar on bartending?” Jude asked, slipping his arm around me.
“Yep.” I reached my hand up to squeeze his. “But I also like it when it’s just us here.”
“Me too.” Parker stepped up next to me on the other side.
Mason sighed. “I’d presume our public awaits. We’d better open this place up.”
Jude kept his arm around me as we walked through the suite. For some reason, it hit me anew how amazing this place was. The view, of course. But also the high-quality furniture. And the fireplace, which we’d used a lot more lately. It really was the most amazing dorm room in the city. Maybe even the country.
Jude regaled us with a story of how one of his piano students had forgotten his entire piece during a recital as we moved through the suite.
Maybe that was why we didn’t figure out there was a problem until we got to the door.
The babble of many voices reached us even before we opened the door. Parker caught my eye and we exchanged frowns.
Mason pulled open the door and we looked into the hallway.
There was a line of students stretching halfway down the hall. As soon as they saw us, they pushed forward, but Mason blocked them, pushing them back. “Are you insane?” he snapped. “Go back to your rooms!”
But nobody did. Maybe it was too much family time or the stress of the end of the semester, but everyone seemed determined to get into our suite.
Jude and Parker slipped past Mason, trying to get the crowd to disperse, but it was too late. Then students wandered off, but not because of us. No, it was because of the trio of officials from the housing office striding toward us.
The last of the waiting students finally got the message by the time two women and one man stood in front of us. One of the women was the one who’d talked to Parker and me before. She lowered her glasses and let her eyes sweep over all four of us—but the guys more than me. Not that I blamed her.
“So, you run the conversation club I’ve heard so much about.” She handed each of us a half slip of paper. “I’d love to learn all about it tomorrow morning at nine a.m. at the disciplinary hearing.” She paused a minute, letting it sink in. “See you then.”
She turned and walked away, her two flunkies following her.
Shit.