Chapter 4
4
Archie
I clutch my pen tighter and tighter all through class and until we let out. I can’t reply. I just can’t do it. Because if I text one more word to Dash, it’s going to be something I won’t be able to laugh off as stupid banter.
I’m painfully attracted to him. It was hard being around him this morning, trying to focus on the fact that all I wanted was that stupid crown when I couldn’t care less about that. All I care about is kissing him again.
My memory has to have amped up that moment to more than it was because there’s no way a kiss could have moved my world as seismically as that one did. I don’t care how good he is at it, the haze of wistfulness, of wanting, has created a memory that he could never live up to.
But fuck do I want to see him try.
All day, I type out a reply and chicken out again. It’s easier to talk, to flirt, through text, and deep down, I want him to know I’m interested. Want him to know I’d do anything to kiss him again, but I can’t get out of my head.
Without that freedom to know that I’d follow through on all my flirting, is there any point? This afternoon, I’ll stop by and pick up the crown, then what? Then nothing.
He’s right that I’ll have no reason to talk to him again. It’d be safer that way.
My whole life, I’ve been safe. I’ve played by the rules and done as I was told and ticked all the metaphorical boxes needing to be ticked to get to a successful place in life. But now, this mystery box has been plunked in my path, and I don’t think I’m strong enough to resist it.
Kissing him at a party was one thing. Trying it again, without the excuse of alcohol to fall back on?
Fuck, I don’t even know this guy. There’s no guarantee he won’t spread my sexuality all over the campus, even if he hasn’t already. I can’t trust him. I can’t be sure he’s not showing my texts to people. It’s that bitter reality that has me slipping my phone in my pocket and ignoring it for the rest of the day.
It’s not until I wrap up my final class that I pull it out and text one question:
Where r u?
I’m a pressure valve of nerves while I wait for him to reply. What if he doesn’t? What if he’s already tired of my games and flat out refuses to give me my crown? I can’t have that. Can’t have him ghosting me.
I’m vibrating out of my skin as I pace, sure I look unhinged and not sure that I care all that much. I’m struggling to see the appeal though. Struggling to figure out what it is about the dark-haired, scruffy smart-ass that I can’t get out of my head. He’s not the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. He’s definitely not the best dressed, and from the few conversations we’ve had, I can’t imagine he’s all that well-read or sophisticated either.
Being the first man I’ve seen completely naked who then hit on me is probably my reason for all this obsessing. It’s definitely not his rough hands or his deep eyes or the way his top lip forms a perfect bow shape.
It’s easy enough to resist those things, even if I don’t particularly want to.
His reply makes my gut trip over itself.
Bean and Gone. South side of campus.
Well, there goes this morning’s flirting. Thankfully.
I head for the coffee shop, building my confidence for when I see him again. There’s no way I’m letting some guy intimidate me. At least that’s what I tell myself until I actually lay eyes on him again.
Oh, holy fuck. Why am I so goddamn attracted to all that?
His backpack is hanging off one shoulder, headphones slung around his neck, and the logo stretched across his chest looks like it’s from some band or another. His sneakers are scuffed up, and his nose ring is prominent, but the second he spots me, those lips curl into a sinful smile that I feel right to my knees.
Goddamn, Levine, you’re better than this.
I straighten out my shoulders and approach, stealing the coffee from his grip before he can stop me. “Thanks.” Whatever he’s drinking is bitter, but I choke it down anyway.
“Sure. Help yourself.”
“You stole from me. I thought it was a thing we did.”
“Well, you sure taught me a lesson.” Dash rolls his eyes and starts walking across campus. I have to force myself not to hurry after him like a lost puppy. That’s not me. That’s not who I want to be. I keep my strides measured and confident, and eventually, Dash slows slightly. It might be a small win, but I’ll take it.
“So,” he gets out between his teeth. “Good classes?”
“Eh, they were fine.” I glance over at his scruffy hair, hating how much that look is doing it for me. “What about you?”
“Would have been easier to concentrate if I’d gotten a reply from the guy I’ve been hitting on.” He throws me a grin, and I can’t help my laugh.
“Fucking hell.”
“That’s been my same thought all day.”
“Are you trying to give me an aneurysm?”
“Actually, I’d rather give you an orgasm, but I can try to give you one of those too.”
My cheeks are getting hot, which means I’m blushing. I got a lot of good things from the Levine gene pool, but easy blushing I could have done without. It sucks being powerful, wealthy, headed into criminal law, and not being taken seriously because I blush like a five-year-old over a Disney prince.
And damn does Dash have a hobo Eric look going on.
“Still on about that, are you?” I ask, my voice a notch deeper than before.
“Sex is never far from my mind.”
“Well, you should probably at least stop hitting on straight men.”
When he smiles, his whole face lights up. “Ah, yes. The straight man who chased off my hookup and kissed me. All totally unplanned, obviously, which is why he was carrying my T-shirt around with him.”
“I’m starting to think that crown isn’t worth it.”
“Of course it isn’t.” He sinks his teeth deep into his bottom lip as he runs his eyes from my face to my feet. “Why are you closeted?”
“I’m not?—”
“Cut the shit, Levine. I’ve seen the way you look at me. I’ve read your texts. You have no reason to believe I’m not going to spread that around, but I have no interest in outing you. The world is fucked, and honestly, the less guys who know you’re on the table, the better.” He pumps his dark eyebrows my way. “The way I see it, you can answer my question and talk about it with someone who knows, or you can keep pretending, and I’ll pretend to keep pretending like I believe you.”
I snort. “When have you once pretended to pretend you believe me?”
“In my defense, it’s a difficult one to fake convincingly.”
I hate that he doesn’t let things go like a normal person would. Doesn’t he understand that there are some things you can talk about and some things you can’t? If someone is clearly closeted, you’re supposed to sweep that conversation under the rug, not drag it kicking and screaming into a topic of conversation.
“I was closeted in high school,” he says. “I get it. There are reasons. I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess your family.”
It takes me a moment to make up my mind. “My dad.”
Dash’s face loses some of that superiority, and real emotion shines through for the first time. That real emotion might be goddamn pity, but beggars can’t be choosers. “He a homophobic dickweed?”
“Basically. He doesn’t say too much publicly, but behind closed doors …” I shudder at some of the things that have come from that man’s mouth. “Let’s just say that being me was never an option.”
“Damn.”
“It is what it is. I have basically everything else in life; it seems selfish to want that too.”
“It’s not a want though, is it? Are you gay? Bi?”
I’m hesitant to say too much out loud.
He nods. “Gay, then.”
My breath comes out in a rush. “Can we move to a new conversation?”
“Sure. If you hang around for dinner?”
“What?” That’s the last thing I expected him to say.
“I told you my roommate works late, and who else do you have to talk to about this? Any of your fratty bros?”
“Ah, no. There’s …” I hate admitting this. “You’re the only one who knows.”
He fist pumps. “Sucks for you, but the way I see it; you’ve gotta stay for dinner now. It’s like the lore of the finders keepers. I’m your gay Obi-Wan, and you’re my grasshopper.”
“Padawan. Not grasshopper. That analogy was painful to listen to.”
“Your whole life is painful to witness, but you don’t hear me whining about it. Dinner? Yes? Good.”
I know what I want to do, and I know what I should do. Should would be grabbing my crown and running. Want is take his offer and see where it leads. The thing is, he’s not really offering is he? It’s more of a demand. And who am I to say no to the man?
My gut is in knots when I ask, “What are you cooking me?”
“Cooking? Calm down, fancy pants. I’m talking about ordering pizza.”
“Pizza?”
“Tell me you know what that is.”
“Of course I know what it is, but can’t we go with Thai or something?”
“I’m paying and have about twenty bucks to my name. You’re going to have to get used to slumming it, big guy.”
I could argue about the paying thing because I have a lot more than twenty dollars, but something else he’s said catches my attention. “Ah, ‘used to’?”
“After one night, you’re going to be hooked on me. I don’t make the rules.”
“Well, why don’t we see if we can make it through the one night first? I’m about ninety percent sure I’ll have the urge to strangle you instead.”
“It’s a fine line, Levine,” he says. “But I can guarantee by the end of the night, you’ll want your hands on me. One way or another.”