Chapter 9
Cider and Violence
JAMES
The evening arrives with perfect California winter weather, jacket weather without actual suffering. Ideal for romantic hayrides, if one were going on an actual romantic hayride rather than a planned show.
No. Strategic. Focus on that.
6:46. Still alone. Good. Gives me time to get my head straight about this not-date.
6:47. Caleb rounds the corner in dark jeans and a deep blue sweater, and my carefully organized thoughts scatter like startled pigeons.
Fuck. The sweater makes his eyes look incredible. That's not helpful. This would be so much easier if he were less... that.
"Ready for agricultural romance?" he asks dryly, not noticing my staring.
Thank god he didn't notice.
"Can't wait," My deadpan reply makes him quietly chuckle. "Nothing says Christmas spirit like parking our asses on scratchy hay while being paraded around campus."
He laughs out loud, the sound still rare enough to catch me off guard. "At least we'll have hot cider. That's something."
"You and your sweet tooth," My hand finds the small of his back as we head toward the front door. "First hot chocolate, now cider. I'm sensing a pattern."
"Everyone has their vices." Something shifts in his expression, an awareness of my hand still on his back, maybe, but he doesn't pull away. "Mine just happens to contain alarming amounts of sugar."
We walk across campus toward the quad, maintaining a careful distance that's friendly but not overtly romantic.
My hand fell away as soon as we started walking.
According to our timeline, tonight is supposed to be a turning point, the first public indication that our friendship might be evolving into something more.
This should be simple enough. Hold hands at some point, maybe let our shoulders brush. Standard relationship progression, all very calculated and normal.
Except my pulse is doing something that's definitely not planned, and we haven't even reached the damn hayride yet.
The quad has been transformed for the occasion.
Strands of white lights hang from the trees, and a large trailer filled with hay bales sits waiting, hitched to a tractor decorated with wreaths and ribbons.
Students are hanging around, including a group of girls I recognize from the Gamma Phi Delta house across the street.
Drew and Emily are already there, directing traffic with matching Santa hats. Emily waves enthusiastically when she spots us.
"James! Caleb! You made it!" She hurries over, dragging Drew with her. "Perfect timing. We're about to board."
"Wouldn't miss it."
Right. That sounded convincing. Definitely.
"You two should grab seats near the back," Emily suggests with a not-so-subtle wink. "More... private."
Drew gives her a look that's half amusement, half warning. "What Emily means is that everyone should find seats wherever they're comfortable."
"The back is fine," Caleb says, surprising me. He glances up with a slight shrug. "Less wind."
"Practical as always,"
As we approach the hayride, I spot Ethan and Tyler already cuddled together on a hay bale, looking so perfectly content it's almost irritating.
They've been dating long enough that they seem so comfortable with each other.
Tyler's arm around Ethan's shoulders, Ethan leaning into him like it's the most natural thing in the world.
Gavin bounds up beside us as we wait to climb aboard. "Hunter and Huntington! Ready for some festive fun?"
"Please stop calling us that."
"Never." Gavin grins. "It's too perfect. Like a law firm or a buddy cop show."
"Or a terrible folk band," Caleb adds.
"Exactly!" Gavin claps him on the shoulder. "See, he gets it."
When it's our turn to board, Caleb climbs up first, then turns to offer me a hand.
It's a small thing, but it's exactly the kind of action that sells our story.
I take his hand. His palm is warm against mine despite the cool air, and I'm suddenly aware of how easily his fingers slot between my own. How well we fit together.
For the performance, obviously.
We make our way to the back of the trailer, as suggested, and find a spot on one of the hay bales. There's enough space that we don't need to sit pressed together, but we're definitely in each other's personal space. I'm acutely aware of every inch where our bodies touch.
The hayride fills up quickly. Most of the brothers pair off with sorority girls, though some form small groups of friends. Gavin, predictably, has managed to surround himself with three laughing girls who seem charmed by his golden retriever enthusiasm.
"He makes it look so easy," Caleb says, following my gaze to Gavin.
"Some people just have that gift. Natural charisma."
"Something neither of us was blessed with," he says with a wry smile.
"Speak for yourself. I'm very charismatic. In the right lighting. With the right audience. Preferably code scrolling on a computer screen, but it counts."
He laughs again, and I find myself cataloging the sound, the way it transforms his usually serious face. The tractor engine rumbles to life, and we begin our slow journey around campus, Christmas music playing from speakers mounted on the trailer.
The route takes us through the campus's main pathways, all decorated for the holidays.
Students wave as we pass, and our group calls back greetings with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
Despite my initial reluctance, it's actually.
.. nice. The crisp air, the twinkling lights, and the general atmosphere of… fun.
Halfway through the ride, servers pass out cups of hot cider. Caleb accepts his with obvious pleasure, taking a sip and closing his eyes briefly in appreciation.
"Good?" Again, I'm amused by his reaction to sugary drinks.
"Perfect," he declares. "Just the right amount of cinnamon."
A strand of his dark hair falls across his forehead, and I have the sudden, inexplicable urge to brush it back. I resist, taking a sip of my own cider instead.
The hayride turns down a path lined with particularly impressive light displays, and Caleb leans slightly to get a better view, his shoulder pressing against mine. And we sit there touching lightly.
Ahead of us, Tyler and Ethan are fully embracing the romantic mood. Tyler whispers something in Ethan's ear that makes him laugh, then pulls him in for a kiss that starts sweet but quickly turns heated.
"Get a room, you two." The shout comes out half-joking, half-serious.
Tyler breaks the kiss long enough to look back with a grin. "Excellent idea, Hunter." In one smooth motion, he stands and hoists Ethan over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.
Ethan yelps in surprise but doesn't seem particularly upset about this turn of events. He waves at us from his upside-down position, face flushed with laughter. "Duty calls!" he announces as Tyler carefully maneuvers them toward the edge of the still-moving hayride.
"Don't you dare jump off my hayride!" Drew shouts, but he's laughing too.
Tyler pauses at the edge, winking at the cheering crowd. "Sometimes a man has priorities, Mr. President." With that, he jumps down, surprisingly graceful despite the human cargo over his shoulder, landing safely on the grassy path.
The entire hayride erupts in applause and wolf whistles as the couple disappears toward the dorms, Tyler still carrying a giggling Ethan.
"That was..." I search for the right word.
"Ridiculous," Caleb supplies. "And somewhat impressive. Tyler must do a lot of squats."
"He was on the rowing team. They're all freakishly strong."
"Clearly," Caleb says, looking thoughtful. "Though I doubt you could pull off that particular move."
"Excuse me?" I turn to face him fully. "Are you questioning my strength?"
He eyes me skeptically. "You spend most of your time hunched over a keyboard. Not exactly building upper body strength."
"I'll have you know I go to the gym three times a week." The words come out defensive, which is ridiculous, but there it is.
"Running on a treadmill doesn't count as strength training."
"I do not just—" I stop myself when I realize he's baiting me. "You're trying to annoy me."
"Is it working?" he asks with an innocent expression that doesn't match the mischief in his eyes.
"Maybe." My lips curve up, the traitors. "But for the record, I could absolutely pick you up if necessary."
"Let's hope it never becomes necessary," he says dryly, but a hint of colour in his cheeks that wasn't there before.
The hayride continues its tour, eventually arriving at the edge of campus where the downtown Holiday market begins. Strings of lights connect vendor stalls selling everything from handmade crafts to seasonal treats. A small stage has a band playing acoustic Christmas songs.
We climb off, everyone stretching after the slightly cramped ride. Drew gathers the group for instructions.
"Feel free to explore the market," he tells us. "But meet back here at nine for the return trip."
The brothers scatter quickly, most following the sorority girls towards the food stalls. Caleb and I find ourselves somewhat alone at the edge of the market.
"So." Awkward pause. Great. "Want to look around?"
"Sure, I could use some more sugar after that cider teaser."
We wander through the market side by side, stopping occasionally to examine crafts or food that catches our interest. It's strangely like a real date, which is precisely the impression we're trying to create for anyone watching.
But no one from the fraternity seems to be paying attention to us now, which makes the continued pretense feel. .. different.
Caleb stops at a stall selling hand-knitted items. He's actually checking the weave pattern on a dark green scarf. This from someone whose entire wardrobe screams "whatever was clean."
"Shopping for yourself?"
"My mother, actually," he admits, running his fingers over the soft yarn. "She likes handmade things. Or at least, she pretends to when I give them to her."