9. Killian
Killian
T he next morning, I’m at Maddox’s dorm thirty minutes early. I spot Chey outside, and I’m not proud to say that I pretend I don’t see her. I’m entirely too proud of myself, though, when I reach Maddox’s door with my book in my arms and a lot of time to spare.
However, when I knock, I don’t get an answer.
Confused, I try again—only to get silence. Shit, okay, I may have been way too enthusiastic about this. I don’t think he’s even here—probably headed out for the morning or something.
I’m about to plop down on the floor and wait for him in the hallway when there are shuffling noises from inside Maddox’s room and the door swings open.
Maddox stares at me with his huge brown eyes and his mouth slightly parted.
His glasses are crooked on his nose and his hair’s in disarray, but I don’t think he was asleep because he seems alert and there’s a mess of books and papers on his desk. His laptop’s turned on, too.
“You’re early,” he blurts out.
“Yeah, I didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot again.”
“I—I’m working on a paper. I didn’t think you’d be here for another half hour, and I was in the zone.”
All my effort goes to not smiling. I fail at it horribly. “Is that why you’ve been ignoring me for the last five minutes? ”
“You’ve been knocking that long?” Maddox’s shoulders slacken, and he lets out the cutest little huff of a laugh. “Shit. Sorry. I block everything out when I’m concentrating. Do you mind if I finish this?”
“Sure! I think I saw my friend outside, so I’ll go see if she’s still around.”
Maddox makes a face, but before I can make anything out of it, he says, “Okay. Though feel free to wait in my room if you’d like—I kind of like having people around when I’m working, anyway. Just don’t speak to me.”
Smiling, I put a hand over my mouth and stop myself from chuckling. I don’t think Maddox means to come off as rude, and there’s something incredibly endearing about how straightforward he can be. “I promise not to speak to you.”
He makes a noncommittal sound and leads the way in, immediately sitting by his desk again, and it seems like he’s already forgotten that I’m around. I take my cap off and squish it in my hands, looking around. There’s one chair and the only other surface I can sit on is his bed.
“Can I sit on your bed?” I ask.
Maddox grunts and waves a hand, not even looking in my direction. I guess that’s a yes.
I sit down and the bed creaks under my weight. Looking around, I take in the surroundings. The sun’s out, but his room’s dim because he hasn’t drawn his curtains.
“Do you want me to draw your curtains?” I ask, and he absently shakes his head. “Don’t you think it’d be easier with more light?”
“Please stop speaking.”
“About that,” I start. “You couldn’t even hear my knocking, so why does me speaking bother you? I mean, I’m not complaining, just curious—”
“Because I was focused, and you broke my concentration.” He pauses. “You can go find your friend first, if you’re getting bored.”
“I’m not bored. I’m curious because you said you want someone around, but not speaking to you. It reminds me of my how my brother said his toddler likes to play beside others but not with them—”
He turns to me. “Killian, please.”
I nod, and Maddox turns back to his desk.
Though… I really, really wish he didn’t ask me in a tone that almost sounds like a whine, because my stupid dick automatically thinks of other opportunities for him to say that. Killian, please, as he’s sprawled underneath me and holding me by the face. Killian, please, when—
Shut up, dick.
The room goes quiet as he goes back to his work, and I pull my phone out to scroll through TikTok. The sound from the first video blares through the room, and Maddox lets out an audible sigh as I scramble to close the app again.
“Sorry,” I say.
Maddox presses his fingers against his eyes. “It’s okay.”
For a few minutes, I sit still and go through my social media instead, and Maddox is silent as he does his work. His typing gets faster, which I think is a good thing, and I wonder if he’s in full concentration mode now, like he was when I arrived.
It’s cute. I’m grinning to myself when I get a message from the group chat I have with some of the guys on the team. Apparently, they’ve gone to Stella Café and are eating freshly made pancakes.
“Aww, man.” My stomach grumbles. Since when has the café served pancakes?
Maddox swivels around with a desperate look on his face. “Killian.”
“Sorry. I’m so sorry. Rhys and Nick sent me a pic of pancakes, and I only had a light breakfast, soo—”
“Killian,” he repeats. Pleads. My stupid dick throbs, and I shift in my seat.
I mime zipping my mouth shut. Maybe I should just head out, but the digital clock on his desk says it’s almost ten minutes to ten a.m .
“I’ve got snacks,” he mutters, gesturing at a chest of drawers without facing me.
“Top drawer?”
Maddox makes a soft sound that I assume is a yes, and I make my way toward the drawers. When I open the top drawer, though, there are only clothes.
After a moment of hesitation, I say, “I can’t see your snacks.”
“Dig around.”
“Are you sure it’s in the top drawer…?” Frowning, I do what he says anyway, wondering if the snacks are underneath his clothes.
I splay my hand under a stack of shirts and feel around, and the tips of my fingers touch a smooth and rubbery material.
My curiosity gets the better of me, and I lift his clothes and grasp the mysterious object.
When I take it out, a dying sound erupts from my throat as I realize it’s a dildo.
A bright red silicone dildo with a wide base.
Maddox turns. “What now? Killian, I swear to god—”
He cuts himself off when he chokes on air and gets up at an alarming speed.
I’ve never seen anyone move as quickly as he does, and seeing as I watch top-notch college athletes skate on the ice almost every day, that’s saying something.
Blushing, Maddox yanks the toy away from me, throws it back in the drawer, and slams the drawer shut.
An awkward silence passes. He’s blushing up to his ears and it looks as if he’s got a fever. Maddox clutches his fists tight enough for his knuckles to go white. Then he lets out a long sigh and opens the second drawer, grabs a small bag of crackers, and slams it on my chest.
“Listen,” I say. “You said top drawer. Then you told me to rummage through your—”
“I wasn’t paying attention,” he bites out. “That was a gag gift from a friend.”
“It’s not a big deal—”
“It was a gag gift, and I’ve never used it.”
“Then why’s it out of the box?”
Maddox’s jaw drops.
I clear my throat. “Sorry. None of my business, and you don’t need to defend—”
“Not another word, please.” Maddox stomps back to his desk, his shoulders stiff, and collapses back in his chair. He lets out a long sigh and buries his face in his hands.
Fuck, my dick’s rock-hard, and I really need it to learn how to act. Maddox looks so uncomfortable, and I hate that for him. I want him to know that it’s perfectly fine. “It’s okay. Sex is a normal part of life… healthy, even.”
“Not. Another. Word.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Maddox turns to me, indignation all over his expression. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. A tense moment passes, and I subtly cover my groin with the bag of crackers, which only calls more attention to the not-so-tiny problem I have in my pants.
He opens and closes his mouth again and then gives up trying to formulate words. Maddox gets up and yanks the curtains open. I blink at the bright light and watch as he drags all his books and papers from his desk to the bed, and then puts his laptop away.
“Let’s study,” he snaps out.
“You can finish your paper—”
“Never mind, I’m not getting anywhere. Sit down. Where’s your book?”
It’s awkward walking with a boner, but I sit down like he asked and lay my book flat on the desk. Neither of us mention the way I’m squirming, and Maddox disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes. When he finally comes out, his face is wet, and my dick’s finally behaving.
Maddox takes a seat by the edge of his bed like last time and reaches over to flip my book to where we stopped last time.
His shoulder’s close enough to me that I catch a whiff of him.
His shampoo must be apple-scented. God, he smells amazing, and I almost groan because I literally just got my stupid hormonal brain to calm down.
He dives right in.
I wonder if he can feel the thick tension in the air or if that’s only me being delusional again. Judging from the clipped way he speaks and how stiff his posture is, maybe it’s not only me.
But the longer he tutors me, the more Maddox slowly eases back into his element, and so do I. He checks his watch a few times though, as if he has other plans, and it grates on me a bit.
“This was on the quiz,” he says, pointing at a problem that I recognize. Maddox hands me his tablet and a stylus pen. “I saw that you almost got it, actually. Can you try this problem?”
“Like, right now? I don’t think I’ll get it right if I didn’t before.”
“Humor me.”
I muster up all my confidence to work on the problem, all too conscious of the way he watches me.
Look at me—I can play an entire hockey game with hundreds of people watching me, but let Maddox Roussel observe me write and my brain forgets how to function.
Like I did on the exam, I falter once I’m on the third step of the equation, and I give him a hopeless look.
Saying nothing, Maddox takes the pen from me. His fingers lightly brush against mine, and I swear my heart jumps. Jesus Christ.
“Like this,” he mutters, finishing the problem for me. I stare at it for a while before he erases the whole thing and hands me the tablet once more. “Try again.”
“Are you serious?” I whine.
He gives me a look. “Dead.”