Chapter 37
DREW
The Hockey House backyard has transformed into a homoerotic water park.
A massive yellow slip-and-slide stretches from the deck all the way to the back fence, and someone—most likely Gerard—has set up pink lights that make the water shimmer.
The crowd of drunk college guys cheers as Gerard climbs onto a makeshift platform at the top of the slide, completely naked except for a plastic Viking helmet with horns.
“Jesus Christ,” Jackson mutters beside me, his hand warm on my lower back. “Is this really happening?”
“Welcome to spring break at the Hockey House,” I tell him, unable to stop grinning. “Where dignity goes to die, and Gerard’s ass reigns supreme.”
From our spot on the deck, we watch a guy from the rugby team yank his shirt over his head, revealing abs that haven’t seen sunlight since October.
Three hockey defensemen race to see who can get naked fastest, their farmer’s tans stark against goose-bumped skin.
A Sigma Chi brother moons the crowd, his bare ass luminous under the pink lights.
The speakers vibrate as “Waterloo” transitions jarringly into Poison’s “Nothin’ but a Good Time”—Gerard’s phone on shuffle, no doubt.
“Behold!” Gerard spreads his arms wide, giving everyone an eyeful. “The Nude Spring Break Slip-and-Slide Championship!”
Nathan stands near the fence, clutching a red Solo cup. His face cycles through expressions of horror, fascination, and more horror as Gerard does what appear to be warm-up lunges. Each movement makes things…jiggle.
“Ten bucks says Nathan passes out,” I whisper to Jackson.
“Twenty says he pops a boner first,” Jackson counters, and I have to kiss him because he’s perfect and mine and…God, when did I become this sappy?
“Get a room!” Elliot’s voice cuts through our moment. He’s beside us, wrapped in three of Gerard’s hoodies despite the warm night. “Or better yet, don’t. I’ve heard enough from your room to last me a lifetime.”
“Jealous?” I ask.
“Of you two?” Elliot snorts. “Please. Gerard is louder, which means I must be doing better than either of you.”
Right on cue, Gerard bellows, “First round—distance!”
He leans forward, arms pumping, thighs tensing as he builds momentum across the deck.
Three, four, five strides, and his massive feet leave the ground—a split second of airborne nakedness before he belly-flops onto the yellow plastic.
Water erupts in twin walls on either side of his careening body.
Pink-tinted droplets catch the light, suspended for a heartbeat, before raining down on howling spectators.
The Viking horns wobble but hold as he flips over, and his ass cheeks hydroplane him right off the plastic’s end, leaving a slick trail through trampled grass until the fence catches him with a hollow thunk. He raises both fists skyward. “Booyah!”
“That’s my boyfriend!” Elliot shouts, then looks mortified. “I mean—shut up.”
But he’s smiling that rare, genuine smile that transforms his whole face, and I get it. That pride mixed with secondhand embarrassment, the weird joy of watching someone you love be completely, unapologetically themselves. Even if ‘themselves’ means being naked in front of hundreds of people.
“Next up—style points!” Gerard’s already jogging back to the platform, unaware that his dick is hypnotizing half the crowd. “Show me your best moves!”
The rugby captain launches himself with a battle cry, twisting midair like a corkscrew.
His rotation fails spectacularly as his shoulder catches the edge, sending him skidding face-first across the plastic, his legs flailing over his head.
Next, an Omega Kappa brother yells, “Watch this!” before attempting to slide backward, ass-first. His triumphant grin vanishes the instant cold water hits his exposed testicles.
Kyle stomps to the platform, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring.
He hurls himself down with the intensity of someone executing a linebacker tackle, his scowl never wavering even as his pale buttocks bounce against the yellow plastic.
But it’s Nathan who surprises everyone.
“Fuck it,” he mutters, downing his drink in one go. He strips with shaking hands, revealing a body that’s softer than the other athletes’ but still strong.
When he climbs the platform, Gerard whoops encouragingly. “Show them what you got, Paisley!”
Nathan’s chest expands with a visible inhale, his eyes narrowing in determination.
His pale body launches horizontally, arms and legs splayed, before smacking against the yellow plastic with a sound like a wet newspaper hitting concrete.
Water erupts six feet high on either side, drenching nearby spectators, who howl and shield their beers.
Nathan’s body skips across the slick surface, each impact punctuated by a grunt and spray of water until he skids to a stop, his nose inches from Gerard’s thick toes.
“Holy shit,” Nathan gasps. “That was—”
“Incredible!” Gerard hauls him up into a naked bear hug that has Nathan turning crimson. “Five points to Nathan!”
“Is Nathan enjoying this?” Jackson asks.
We watch as Nathan, still bright red but grinning now, gets back in line. When Gerard high-fives him—their hands making a wet slapping sound—Nathan only looks 80 percent like he wants to die instead of the usual 100 percent.
“Character growth,” I observe.
A lanky guy with a tribal tattoo launches into a cartwheel that collapses halfway, sending him spiraling sideways with his junk flopping.
Beside me, Jackson winces with sympathy.
A shaggy-haired sophomore follows, dropping to his stomach and writhing forward in what might generously be called “the worm,” if worms had dislocated shoulders.
Then Oliver mounts the platform, his abs rippling as he flips upside down.
His palms slap against the wet plastic, and he slides the entire length in a perfect handstand, droplets cascading off his inverted naked body.
But it’s Gerard who remains the undisputed king.
He launches himself horizontally, one arm extended, water parting around his naked form.
Minutes later, he’s on his back, sliding feet-first while firing finger guns at shrieking spectators.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he bellows, stumbling to the platform again, “watch and learn!” He turns his back to the slide, crosses his arms over his chest, and falls backward.
Several wide-eyed freshmen at the bottom scramble to catch his plummeting body, their expressions shifting from determination to horror as they realize exactly what parts of Gerard they’re about to touch.
“Your turn, lovebirds!” Gerard shouts suddenly, pointing our way. “No boyfriends left behind!”
The crowd takes up the chant, and Jackson gapes at me with panic in his eyes. “Drew, no. We can’t.”
“Why not?” I’m already pulling off my shirt, high on the energy of the night. “Come on, Jacky. When’s the next time we’ll get to do a nude slip-and-slide?”
“Never! Never is the correct answer!”
But I can see him wavering. Jackson’s come so far from the nervous guy who could barely handle fake dating. If he’s not ready for public nudity, that’s fine, but—
“Fuck it.” He’s stripping, and holy shit, I love him. “But we’re going together.”
“Together?”
“If I’m doing this, you’re suffering with me.”
We climb onto the platform hand-in-hand, and the crowd goes absolutely feral. Gerard’s jumping up and down with excitement, Nathan’s staring deliberately at the fence, and Elliot’s rolling his eyes but smiling.
“Ready?” I ask Jackson, squeezing his hand.
For a second, the noise fades away. It’s just us, standing naked in front of everyone, but somehow still in our own bubble. His eyes are soft, fond, and full of something that makes me want to hug him and never let go.
“With you?” He grins, that crooked smile that killed me the first day we met. “Always.”
We sprint forward, fingers locked tight. My heel slips on the wet deck, but Jackson’s arm yanks me upright.
Three steps. Two. One.
The yellow plastic rushes up to meet us, and cold water shocks my balls as we slam down together.
Jackson yelps in my ear. His elbow digs into my ribs.
My knee scrapes his thigh. Chlorine stings my nostrils.
Water sprays into my open mouth. The fence looms ahead, growing larger by the second.
Jackson’s hand squeezes mine as we crash.
The crowd’s voices blur into one deafening roar.
And then Jackson kisses me, deep and desperate, and I can taste chlorinated water and beer. When he pulls back, we’re both grinning.
“Beautiful!” Gerard’s voice breaks our moment. He’s standing over us with tears in his eyes, still naked, still wearing the Viking helmet. “Love wins! Spring break wins! Everybody wins!”
“Gerard, babe, you’re dripping on them,” Elliot says, appearing with towels. He throws them at us without staring directly at our nakedness. “Try not to fuck in the yard.”
“No promises,” I say to watch him scowl.
As Jackson and I dry off and hunt for our clothes, the party continues.
Gerard convinces Oliver and Kyle to do a synchronized slide.
Nathan’s laughing at something, his earlier embarrassment forgotten.
The night air is full of music and splashing and the kind of joy that only comes from absolute ridiculousness.
“Hey,” Jackson says softly. “Thanks for making me do this. Not just the slide, but everything. The fake dating, the real dating, all of it.”
I pull back to take him in properly. Even soaking wet with his hair sticking up at weird angles, he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Thank you for saying yes.”
“Get back here, lovebirds!” Gerard’s voice booms. “It’s the championship round!”
“Want to go again?” I ask Jackson, already knowing the answer.
“Absolutely not.” But he’s smiling, fingers laced with mine. “Let’s get a drink and watch Nathan have an aneurysm when Gerard does his finale.”