Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Robbie
After Brandon disappeared on me, I didn’t see him again that night or all the next day. I trudge through the final classes of the semester, my mood getting lower and lower at the prospect of two weeks alone.
Chad’s taking Bailey to visit his family in Georgia, and Zeke is flying home, along with every other brother in the house.
Because my position as office bitch is an unpaid internship, Mom and Dad have agreed to pay my fraternity dues and food each week, and once those things are covered, it doesn’t leave a lot of money for things like flights across the country.
My scholarship is good but not a full ride. I might be a decent left tackle and could maybe aim for the NFL, but the lifestyle is too unstable for me. Best I could hope for is riding the bench. I’ll never be one of the greats. I’m no Shane Miller.
It’s hard, but I’m hoping this internship will be worth it once college ends.
I’ve just finished saying goodbye to the final guy walking out the door, and regretting not catching Brandon before he left, when my phone lights up in my hand and my little brother’s name fills the screen.
“Yo, marshmallow!” I say.
“Fuck off, Robert.”
“Ohh, first-naming me. Someone’s feeling snarky.”
He sighs. “I can’t believe you’re not coming home again this year.”
“Yeah, me too.”
I can tell by his silence he’s sulking. We’re so similar and yet complete opposites.
Marshall and I look a lot alike, except he wears glasses, and where I’m always unshaven, he keeps his face smooth.
Our resemblance is all surface-level. He never got into football like I did, and I never got into … . whatever nerdy-ass shit he’s into.
“If the family get to be too much, head back to school,” I tell him. “At least it isn’t far for you.”
“Still five hours’ drive.”
“Better than a five-hour flight.”
“True.” He pauses.
I’m used to Marshall being quiet, but this is something else. “Everything okay?”
He puffs out a breath. “I miss you.”
“Yeah, you too.” He’s two years younger than me, so we’ve always been close, which is good, because our parents don’t get Marshall.
He’s funny and sarcastic, but the studious, quiet side doesn’t fit in with our loud family.
I’ve always joked that we never let him get a word in, so it’s not like it’s his fault.
“Oh, hey, you wanna hear something fun?”
“Always.” The down tone he had going on disappears.
“I kissed one of my frat brothers.”
There’s silence and then … quiet laughter. “You what?”
“Yeah. Turns out I’m bi. Wild.”
“I’m not even surprised.”
“You’re not?” For some reason, that makes me ridiculously happy. “What, I set off gaydar or something?”
“No.” He sounds close to laughing again. “Probably the opposite, but what would I know? I meant the way you said it like it was the most normal thing ever.”
“Well, it is.”
“Yeah, but not everyone thinks like that. Can I … how did you know?”
The curiosity gets my attention. “One of my other brothers is bi, it sounded fun, so I wanted to try it … why?”
“No reason.”
Ah, yeah, there’s definitely a reason. Interesting.
Could we be even more alike than I thought?
Even if he’s going through something similar to me, I’m not going to push it.
If he wants to tell me, he will, and in the meantime, I’ll trust him with my shit so he knows he can trust me with his. “I dunno what to do about it though.”
“About what?”
“My frat brother.”
“Who was it? One of the ones I know?”
I hesitate over telling him, but hey, he’s across the country, and he’s my actual brother. He’s not going to message Brandon and spill all my secrets. “It was Brando.”
“Holy fuck.”
“Yep.”
“So …”
“So, what?” I ask.
“Well, I’ve always thought you two were close. Is there … do you want more, or was it some stupid frat thing?”
“Stupid frat thing,” I hurry to say.
“Right.”
“And also, maybe if he didn’t have a girlfriend, I’d want to get him naked.”
“A girlfriend?” He sounds scandalized.
“Relax, the kissing was all her idea.”
Marshall lets out the same booming laugh I have. “I don’t know what to tell you, other than I know you, and you always get what you want.”
Not always. I didn’t hook up with that twink last night. I didn’t get my tongue down Brandon’s throat. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to him today … “I think it’d be smarter to cross anything to do with him off my list.”
“Yeah, but you’re not the smart one, remember?”
He’s got me there. “So you’re saying I should go for it?”
“Not if he has a girlfriend.”
“Well, obviously.”
“But … if he’s interested and they break up, or she wants a threesome or whatever, then yeah. Go for it. Don’t worry about the details.”
“Now that I can do.”
He gives a distracted hum.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, one of my housemates just walked in.”
“Which one?”
“The one who hates me,” he says, not bothering to keep his voice down. “I better go before I, you know, breathe wrong or something.”
“Love you. Give Mom a kiss for me.”
“Love you too.”
We hang up, and I slump back on the couch, letting the silence engulf me … for a whole second before a taunting voice makes me jump.
“Give Mom a kiss for me.”
“Shit.” I whirl around to find Brandon leaning against the doorframe. He’s wearing flannel pajama pants and a hoodie.
“You bastard, I thought everyone was gone.”
He chuckles, tucking his hands in his hoodie pockets and crossing to drop beside me on the couch. “Sorry to disappoint.” Brandon relaxes back into the couch, blond hair a sleep-rumpled mess.
“What time are you leaving?” I ask.
“I’m not.”
I struggle for words for a moment. “You’re not heading home?”
“Nah, it’s my last college Christmas, so I thought, what the hell?”
“And this has nothing to do with me staying?”
“Well, yeah, a bit.” His lips twitch. “What kind of risk manager would I be to leave the biggest hazard on campus here solo?”
I shove him, and he shoves me back. My smile is huge as it sinks in. I’m not going to be spending the break alone. Even better, I’m going to be spending it with him.
“You’re not going home at all? Not even for Christmas?”
“Nope.”
“Wow. Exactly how pathetic do you think I am?” There’s no bite to my words, because I’m too happy.
Sure, last year was boring, and I wasn’t looking forward to it this year, but I’m not the type to sit around feeling sorry for myself, and yet, Brandon canceled on his family to spend the break with me.
He can feed me all the crap he likes about this being our last Christmas in the house, I know there’s no way he would have stayed behind if he was going to be here alone.
I drop the teasing. “Thanks.”
“Careful, man. That sounds a lot like gratitude.”
“Gratitude this.” I flip him off, but he grabs my hand and sinks his teeth into my finger. Instead of hurting, it draws my attention to his lips, and those teeth that are quickly becoming a massive turn-on of mine.
Nope, bad Robbie!
While Brandon has a girlfriend, this thing is done between us. No flirting, no kissing, no nothing. Because dammit, he always leaves me wanting more.
So against all urges, I extract my hand from his grip and push him into the other side of the couch.
“What are we going to do, then?” I ask.
“What do you normally do at home? Big feast, gifts, that kind of thing?”
“Yeah. Usually a Christmas movie and lots of eggnog.”
“Eggnog?” He pulls a face. “How does anyone stomach that?”
“You’ve got to make it yourself. None of that store-bought shit.”
“And you know how?” The skepticism in his voice makes me determined to show off.
“Damn right. I can cook too.”
“No way.”
“Way.” I wink at him. “Man of many talents.”
“Okay, then first thing’s first. We go shopping.”
Hmm … didn’t think that through. I mentally tally the amount in my bank account plus what I’ll get for groceries next week.
Brandon lightly kicks my calf. “I’ve got it.”
“I can’t let you—”
“Dude, I want to. My parents gave me some money for Christmas, so I’m all cashed up.”
I know Brandon is better off than most of us, but he’s still far from being able to afford a whole Christmas feast. “Go halves?”
“You’re on.”
When we get to the supermarket, we throw any and everything that’s on sale into our cart.
“Hey, wait.” Brandon pauses beside some discounted Christmas lights.
“You wanna decorate?” I ask.
“I was thinking … the Kappas are gone, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, but King of Thieves is paused over break.”
“Not what I’m thinking.” He holds up a crushed reindeer box. “Let’s grab some of this, then go along the row collecting all the decorations and load up Kappa house with it all.”
The excitement in Brandon’s voice makes it impossible to say no. “Only if we can set everything up in porny poses.”
“Was there any other option?”
And that’s how, three hours later, Rudolph is giving Dasher head on Kappa house’s front lawn.
I’m frozen solid, but I take a minute to look around at our handiwork.
Santa is jerking off instead of waving, there’s a reindeer orgy, and Brandon’s sex doll, Sally, is on top of a Christmas tree in a toilet paper dress.
Every time the Christmas tree star lights up, so does she.
Plus, we’ve scraped a giant dick into the snow and lined it with twinkle lights, right beside a Frost-She the snowgal who’s boobs are kinda lopsided.
And as much as I wanna stand out here, admiring the art we’ve created all night, my balls have turned to ice cubes, and I’m worried about them snapping off.
I walk backward. “We did a great j—”
My heel hits a string of lights, and I’m too cold for my reflexes to be working. I go ass over tit in the snow. Even in ski pants, I freeze instantly.
Brandon thinks it’s hilarious.
“Hey, fuck you.”
He keeps laughing.
So I grab a fistful of snow and fling it in his direction.
“Dick.” Brandon ducks and scoops up a handful of snow, and all I see is him packing it into a snowball before I scramble to my feet and start running. I scoop up snow and toss it back blindly, Brandon’s answering taunts making me think I missed.
“You wait for—” My head snaps forward when he hits me. “Now who’s the dick?”
Fuck this. I duck down and grab a handful, then rub it into his face as he goes to run by me.
It’s less of a snowball fight and more of a scuffle where we try to flick as much ice at each other as possible without losing our footing.
I’m breathless from laughing and losing feeling in my limbs when Brandon pours a fistful of snow down my shirt.
My entire body goes tense. “Fuck!” I choke out. “Fuck, fuck. D-dead man.”
He bolts for the house as I grab as much snow as I can manage, and karma gets him good when he slips on ice and hits the ground. All the snow I’ve gathered ends up over his head, but when I go to run off, Brandon grabs my ankle, and I face-plant.
“Screw you, man!” But I’m not sure he hears me because my teeth are knocking together so hard, and he’s already halfway back to the house.
I’m stiff, my legs don’t want to work properly, but I finally get up and stagger back home.
Brandon’s clothes have been dumped unceremoniously in the front hall, and I can hear the shower going upstairs.
I shrug out of my coat and sweaters, kick off my boots, and drop my ski pants with Brandon’s gear, then head upstairs.
I pound on the bathroom door. “I can’t believe you left me out there. What if I froze to death?”
“Then it’d be peaceful around here,” he shouts over the spray of the water.
I try the door, finding it unlocked, and walk in. The shower has steamed up, so I can’t see any of the good stuff, and it’s immediately a thousand times warmer in here than it was outside the room. I quickly close the door behind me to trap the heat.
“You have two minutes, then I’m coming in.”
“Go use Zeke’s shower.”
“And have him murder me? No, thanks.”
“As if he’d know,” Brandon says.
“You want to risk it?”
There’s a pause, and then the shower cuts off. “Fine. I was enjoying that, asshole.”
“I didn’t say you had to get out, only that I was coming in.”
The glass door swings open, and Brandon steps out and grabs a towel.
I’m very, very good in that I don’t check out his dick while he’s naked, but once the towel is around his waist?
Fuuuck, he looks good. Perfectly cut muscle, smooth skin, blond hair dark from the water and slicked back off his face.
He grins at the way I’m watching him, and the sight of those teeth makes me tent my boxer briefs.
“I had to get out.” He nods at my dick. “For my own safety.”
I pretend like I’m not feeling smug as hell, then drop my underwear and step into the shower. The warm water burns as the cold seeps out of me, and when I feel human again, my cock decides it’s done with waiting. Through the foggy glass, I can make out Brandon leaning against the counter.
I wrap my hand around my needy dick and relax into how good it feels. “Dude, I’m about to start jerking off. Might wanna get out.”
“You’re not supposed to tell people when you’re about to jerk off.”
“My dick is literally in my hand.”
He doesn’t answer, and I can only imagine he ran out of here as fast as he ran out on me at the party. My eyes fall closed as I start a slow stroke up and down my shaft. Between my hand and the water pelting down on the head of my cock, I’m in bliss.
And even though he’s the cause of this erection, I don’t mean to picture Brandon during this, but the image of his water-pebbled torso enters my brain, and I have zero desire to push it out again.
I grunt and pick up the pace.
His torso, his full pecs, and sculpted abs. His cocky smirk and the V that disappeared beneath his towel. I picture stepping closer, tucking my fingers under the material and letting it fall to the floor before following it. Knees hitting tile. The smell of sex.
My head drops back on a gasp as I imagine looking up at Brandon and sucking his cock into my—
“Fuck …” My orgasm hits hard and fast, cock pulsing with every spurt of cum.
I milk myself through it, wanting to draw it out as long as possible, because that image was fucking hot.
Apparently I don’t need to touch a dick to know I’m into it.
I only need to picture Brandon’s. “Holy shit,” I whisper, my body giving a belated shudder.
I turn my attention to washing my cum down the drain—I’m a considerate housemate—when a throat clears.
I hurry to wipe a circle in the steamed glass and find Brandon exactly where I last saw him.
“Sounded like a good one.” His voice is rough, and when I glance down, his towel is sticking straight out at the front.
“You have no idea.”
The shower fogs up again too fast for me to make out the look on his face, but I see him head for the door. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
And as desperately as I want to call him back and offer to take care of his problem for him, I let him go. I meant what I said to Marshall. Brandon is off-limits as long as he has a girlfriend.
No matter how much I really, really want to touch him.
And maybe he should have left for break, because suddenly, these two weeks have become a whole lot harder.