Chapter 9
Trent
Magnus set up the camera in here so it captures the whole food prep area of the dorm kitchen. It’s not a big room anyway, and we put a sign up to let anyone passing know that we’re filming. So far, no one has even walked by, and I can’t be mad about that, because holy shit, cooking is difficult.
“You would think that my mother would have put in some time with me in the kitchen so I’m not completely stupid about this before sending me off into the world by myself,” I complain as I look up the difference between TBSP and TSP.
“Does your mom cook?” Magnus asks curiously, watching me measure out a TEASPOON of salt and put it in a bowl with cubed butternut squash.
“Exclusively. Mom takes care of home and hearth, and dad works and takes care of the yard. Living the American dream with two kids, a cat, and a golden retriever,” I explain, putting the lid on the container the squash is in and shaking it so that the olive oil and salt are evenly distributed.
Magnus watches me with curiosity burning in his eyes. Not sure if he’s curious about my family, me, or the sorcery that is cooking. “Interesting. Is that what your dream life looks like?”
“Nah. Well, maybe. I don’t know if I want kids.
Maybe someday, but I don’t want to spend my twenties trying to make ends meet because I decided to have a family too soon, you know?
I’m not against them, but if I found a woman who didn’t want them, that wouldn’t be a dealbreaker for me.
” I spread the squash on a baking sheet and put it in the oven.
Apparently, those have to roast for nearly an hour.
“I want kids. Well, I want at least one kid. If I end up in a situation where my spouse doesn’t want kids, I may donate my sperm.
I think it’s important to add to the genetic diversity of the world.
Plus, famous geniuses often get asked to donate gametes for posterity.
” Magnus gives me a little smile. “It’s a bit of vanity, but I wouldn’t mind donating because of the possibility of adding to the pool of geniuses in the world, although that’s not a guarantee.
The probability is better, but not significantly greater, and there’s some studies that indicate the ability of a child to learn is as influenced by their environment as it is by genetics.
Maybe that will be my next big project,” he hums thoughtfully.
“I could dedicate my thirties to child development.”
I chuckle as I prep the broccoli, bell peppers, and corn. The corn is going under the broiler, but the others are going into the oven with the squash in about twenty minutes.
“I don’t think you should have a kid for the sake of vanity. Donating sperm is probably the better option in that case. Kids are, according to everyone who has them, a lot of work. Might want to let the people who want to take on that job do it. You’re a bit occupied with your career.”
He grunts and nods. “You’re right. I don’t think I want to spare the time to raise a child, but I might change my mind in a decade, so let’s leave it as an open possibility that appeals on a very primitive level.”
Laughing, I offer him a raw bell pepper slice, and he leans over and eats it right out of my hand.
We both knew he would do that. In fact, we’re planning on having me feed him bits of food every time I cook as a part of the script, because we want to look like a couple.
Knowing it and experiencing it are two very different things.
Instead of acting like it’s normal for me to feed him, I completely freeze up, watching him chew.
My abs tense and for some reason my fucking dick decides that one round twenty minutes ago is not enough.
What the hell, cock? Magnus is not—just no. This is for money. We aren’t gay, we’re gay for pay. There’s a difference.
I swallow hard and turn to prep the sauce for this roasted veggie pasta. I’ve got to get my head on straight, because I still have to spoon feed him some of the sauce, too. I discreetly check the front of my apron, grimacing at the bulge showing through.
Hmm.
Well, at least the sudden chubby fits the script. It just wasn’t explicitly in it until April; maybe Magnus won’t notice.
I turn back with the tomatoes and garlic, and start cutting them up. “Anyway, what’s your vision for the future?”
Magnus gives me a cheeky smile and winks at the camera. “Immediately? I want to live with my best friend in the whole wide world and write academic papers about experiments in adult content creation.”
I scoff and roll my eyes, flicking a little tomato juice at him. “Beyond that, buddy. You’ve only got me for your porn channel for a few years.”
Magnus's smile widens and he shrugs. “Career-wise? I’d like to continue teaching here. I think next year or the year after I’m going to start advising graduate students.
I’ll have my second PhD and tenure by then.
Well, if I don’t have tenure, I can always find another university to work with.
I’m in high demand. I get offers every spring, but so long as my alma mater treats me well, I’m inclined to stay with them. ”
I laugh, glancing at the camera. “Did you just warn any admins watching our content that you’re willing to leave them if they cause a fuss?”
Magnus grins broadly. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do unintentionally.”
“No, it does not,” I agree, cracking up. This guy, I swear.
Magnus reaches over and snags a piece of tomato. “We have questions submitted from viewers; you ready for them?”
I bob my head as I scoop the tomatoes into a sauce pan with garlic oil and olive oil. I hold up my hand to stall him as I check the recipe again, then add salt to the pan and start stirring. “Ok, shoot.”
Magnus reads off his phone, shaking his wild hair out of his face, only to have it fall right back in place. For a moment, I’m struck by how cute he is without really trying, and I really try to let that thought shine through on my face even though it’s a little weird inside my head right now.
“Ok, ShellforOne asks, ‘How did you two meet?’”
“I won the dorm lottery and got assigned to his dorm. For some reason I haven’t asked about yet, Magnus still lives in the undergrad dorms instead of the apartments that are usually given to grad students.
” And that’s true; I haven’t asked why he chose the undergrad dorms instead of the apartments that contract with the school to provide housing for non-traditional and graduate students.
“It’s because I’ve been in this dorm since I was fourteen,” he explains with a shrug. “I moved to a two bedroom because I decided it was time for a roommate situation.”
If he asks me why the way he describes that puts a smile on my face, I’m going to tell him that I’m playing it up for the camera, not that I think he’s adorable.
“So that’s why we met, but not really how. Do you want to tell them what happened when I moved in?” I ask as I return to the cutting board to start chopping onions.
The timer for the oven goes off as I do, and I grab the sheet pan with the rest of the veggies on it and put them in the oven with the squash.
Magnus groans and talks to the camera. “In my defense, I specifically requested someone who had pledged to a fraternity, and in my very limited knowledge of the fraternities, I might have made some very broad assumptions about what kind of person would be assigned to my room. I was ready for a less than academically inclined jock.”
“I pledged to a fraternity, and I played baseball for the university my first two years, but I moved my focus to my degree when I started in on the classes for my major,” I explain, and then I strike a strong-man pose and flex to show off my biceps.
I spend time in the gym daily keeping up my physique, and I absolutely do not mind showing off for subscribers; they’re paying for my future, after all.
“So sexy,” Magnus applauds, then starts talking to the camera again as I get back to chopping onions.
“On move-in day, Trent appears in the doorway carrying three full totes, and his muscles were literally bulging. I learned that day that I might not have the filter that most people develop. I said, ‘You know you can make more than one trip, right? This isn’t Mackenzie Hall; no one’s going to hide your undies on the roof. ’”
“Mackenzie Hall is where all the jocks are housed, and yes, it is common for unattended underwear to disappear onto the roof,” I explain.
“The problem was, Trent was moving out of Mackenzie Hall,” Magnus picks up.
“I said, ‘Don’t worry, I do all my underwear shopping on the roof anyway.’”
Magnus makes a disgusted face and a gagging noise. “And I immediately called the RA to tell him in no uncertain terms that I would not be sharing a room with anyone who wore used Mackenzie Hall underwear.”
“I gave him my most dumb-jock look and said, ‘Wait, where do you get your underwear?’”
Magnus shudders at the memory. “I ordered him to drop his boxes and dragged him straight to the store to buy him two packages of expensive moisture wicking underwear, because he told me that’s all he used, and I told him to throw away all his old ones.”
“And I fucking let him because I’m a broke student and it was free underwear,” I grin.
“Later, I learned that this asshole only wears underwear at the gym and the rest of the time he goes commando because he’s weird, and he’s never even been to the roof of Mackenzie Hall because he keeps all his underwear at the gym unless it’s laundry day.”
I lean over and muss his hair, showing the camera exactly how much I genuinely love this guy. We might’ve started off with an expensive prank, but we’ve earned a good friendship since. “We might’ve had a weird first day, but we’re solid now. He’s my favorite person on campus.”
“And he’s mine,” he tells me, smiling up at me.
For a moment I think about what it’s going to be like to kiss him later, and that thought drives me back to cooking. I don’t think I’m supposed to be thinking about that right now; kissing isn’t on the docket until after we fuck.
“So, what’s the next question?” I ask, getting my head back in the game.
I really need to stop letting this script mess with me.