Chapter 8
Tilian
Brooks greeted someone, but I was still spacing out and I wasn’t quite ready to refocus my eyes. I had to get the shit in my head together. If only there was a label maker for my brain so that I could start categorizing things.
Sociology: my favorite class this quarter.
Tilian: desperate to be a little slutty.
Brooks: off limits. I think. Off limits-ish.
“You know Tilian from class, I’m sure.”
The blur in my eyes faded as I focused on the person in front of me. I’d seen Oliver in class, but I’d never talked to him. He might be on the swim team. The only reason I thought that was because I wandered through the buildings like a specter sometimes when I was bored, and there were pictures of the various sports teams at the university.
He smiled at me, revealing dimples on either side of his mouth. It was forty degrees outside, but he was wearing basketball shorts. Paired with his maroon hoodie, it was the perfect balance, like having one foot out of the covers at night. It was a pretty common outfit in Washington.
His hair was black, swooping just slightly over his forehead, and his eyes were green or maybe hazel. The flawlessness of his warm bronze skin made me want to ask what his self-care routine was, not that I’d ever stick to it.
Oliver held out his hand. “Hey. I’m Oliver.”
I took it like we were going to shake hands, but it became clear that he was trying to do that weird bro handshake, which made the whole thing sickeningly awkward. He laughed and went with the classic greeting without saying anything about it.
“Tilian,” I said, then pursed my lips when I remembered Brooks had already told him that. Clearing my throat, I moved over to the dresser and grabbed my pen. The events of this day were better handled if I quieted all these panicky thoughts.
Another knock came and Brooks let Dean in. Staring at all of them together, I was more than a little unnerved. Oliver was a little taller than them and just as broad as Dean, but he was leaner- the perfect swimmer’s body.
God, I’d become the sidekick of the group.
“Well,” Brooks drawled, leaning against my dresser. It made his hoodie pull up to reveal his sharp pelvic bone. “This feels like a shitty case of déjà vu, doesn’t it?”
Dean scowled. “Missing a few key details.”
“Are we?”
He ignored him and looked at me. Something made his brow furrow before he came over and put a hand on my shoulder.
“What’s up?”
I blinked a couple of times to focus, then smiled softly. “Hey. Congrats on winning the game.”
“Yeah, it was cool. We definitely had to fight for it.”
“Hopefully you’re not too tired for some brainstorming.”
“Nah. I might just have to pawn more of the work off on you.”
I laughed, which made his expression smooth out.
“Ready?” I asked.
He nodded and looked around. After a moment, he sat on the floor with his back against the nightstand. I settled criss cross on the bed and Brooks dropped beside me, bringing his knees up. The hand he had on the bed was close enough to mine that our pinkies touched and I forced myself not to read into it.
“So,” Brooks said. His eyes were alight, which made him look mischievous like we were about to formulate some diabolical plans. “Tell me why you’re each taking this class.”
“Why am I taking sociology?” Dean clarified. He nodded. “Uh, it’s a requirement of my degree.”
“Which is?”
“Public administration.”
“Why?”
Dean studied him briefly. “Sorry,” he said with a shrug. “That’s classified information.”
Brooks smiled as if he loved that answer. “Cool, cool. Valid. Tilian?”
“My degree is in social work, so it’s also a requirement.”
“Oli?”
“Psychology major.”
“Oof. Law for me, obviously. We all have a reason for taking it, not just a random decision, so I think we should put a lot of thought into the topic we choose for the project.”
“Gender discrimination in the workplace?” I offered.
“Based, but I guarantee someone else will do that. It’s a hot button topic.”
“Globalization,” Dean suggested.
“Meh. Boring.”
“Okay, Mr. Hot Shot. What do you think?”
“I don’t know. I’m not in charge here.”
Dean scoffed and, once again, Brooks looked entertained. The more I was around him, I was torn between him being a bit of a dick or simply a down to earth, fun-loving guy. It seemed like he enjoyed riling people up, pushing them to some limit as if it was a game he was playing while the rest of us were his unknowing lab rats trying to navigate the maze. I liked mazes, but that was beside the point.
“Mental health services on college campuses,” I said quietly.
All three of them looked at me. I couldn’t tell if they liked the idea. Since Brooks hadn’t turned it down yet, I figured it was as good an option as any.
He leaned toward me, which made me tense. “Sell me on it.”
“Uh… Well, during the pandemic, people started paying more attention to mental health concerns. People were working from home and students were attending classes online. Now, the conversation has died down, but we’re still more aware than we were before. Even unrelated to Covid, students have high rates of mental illness, acute depression, and burnout among other things. There are resources, but they hardly do any good. Ask most students and they couldn’t tell you how to access any services offered by the college. Also, there are aspects of college life that directly affect students more than the general population, so there should arguably be even more accessible resources.”
Brooks grinned. “Fucking beautiful. What do you think, Dean?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“I’m down,” Oliver said with a shrug.
“Look at us,” Brooks exclaimed. “Ten minutes in and we’re already making moves.”
“We should do surveys on campus as part of our research.”
“That’s a good idea. I love harassing people.”
I breathed a laugh. “That’s your job, then.”
“We should do each step together,” Dean countered. “I hate group projects where tasks are delegated. It makes things less cohesive.”
Brooks nodded slowly. “I agree.” He turned to me and offered me a kind smile. “Sorry, bud. You’ll have to brave the land of the living. We’ll take care of you, though. Right, guys?”
Dean nodded his agreement. Oliver seemed a little distracted. He was either spacing out or looking at Dean. When he saw me watching him, he leaned back on his hands.
“Sounds like a plan.”
While Brooks and Oliver discussed some more of the logistics, I watched him. He interacted so easily with everyone. Aside from my attraction to him, I was curious. He said we were friends and I wondered if he’d really meant that.
When my anxiety returned to a manageable level, I offered the pen to Brooks. He took it with a groan.
“I thought you’d never offer.”
“You could’ve asked,” I pointed out.
“I don’t always want to make the first move, Tilian.”
My mind tried to return to the memory of that kiss, but I forced it to back down. Reality was the only option right now.
“Maybe you think too highly of yourself,” I noted. “I might not want to chase.”
“Oh,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. It sounded so seductive, it couldn’t possibly be legal. “If you like to be chased, that’s all you have to say.”
I rolled my eyes, even as I laughed. “Nah. It might be that I’m just not into you.”
“Damn,” Oliver exclaimed. “Bet you didn’t expect to be rejected tonight, especially by Tilian.”
“Is that an insult?”
He chuckled. “No. You stare at him a lot in class.”
I grimaced and ducked my head. “He’s pretty. That’s not enough to like someone.”
“What else do you like?” Brooks asked, leaning forward.
“Oreos.”
“Come on. There’s no better way to get to know someone than learning about their kinks.”
“That’s definitely not true,” Dean muttered.
I stared at Brooks and felt myself caving beneath that stare.
“I’ll go if everyone does.”
“Marking,” Oliver chimed in immediately.
We all looked at Dean. He was clearly uncomfortable, but it looked like he was thinking.
“Breeding. Just play, obviously.”
Brooks’ mouth dropped open. “See? I knew we were meant to be friends. I respect you so fucking much right now.”
Dean breathed a laugh, then looked at me.
“I like to be choked,” I said confidently.
Brooks licked his lips and dropped his gaze to my neck. “I like choking.”
“We should go,” Oliver whispered to Dean. “I don’t want to stay for the show.”
“Relax,” Brooks drawled. “We’re not gonna fuck. I’m on a strict strangers only diet for an indeterminable amount of time.”
“Why?” I asked before I had a chance to stop myself.
“Why not?”
“What a shit response.”
“Okay, you lovely little thing. Strangers don’t catch feelings.”
“What’s wrong with feelings?” Oliver asked.
“There have been a lot of questions aimed at me. I think I’m gonna need a lawyer present before we proceed.”
“Sounds like something you’d say if you were guilty.”
“What would I even be guilty of?”
“Being afraid of commitment, obviously.”
Brooks scoffed. “Uninterested is vastly different from afraid.”
Still smirking, Oliver leaned over to whisper something in Dean’s ear. Me and Brooks looked at each other as if one of us knew what he said. Whatever it was, neither of them was letting on. Dean was completely expressionless and Oliver just looked like he had for most of the night.
“This is a really weird fucking group,” I blurted.
Brooks laid back and stared at the ceiling. “Fuck, I know you’re high all the time, but I love you like this.”
I shrugged. “Sativa. It deletes my filter.”
“Noted. Buy Tilian a whole stockpile so I get him to open up to me.”
Lying beside him, I knocked my shoulder against his playfully. “I’ll open up regardless. The longer I’m around someone, the easier it is.”
“Second note to self: harass Tilian at all hours, every day.”
All I could do at this point was shake my head. There was no getting rid of the smile anytime soon. I was just rolling with the punches.