Chapter 5 #2
“Am I late?” I asked, dropping my duffel beside a desk in the first row and pulling the chair back. I never sat in the first rows, so the sensation was odd. The back rows were where all the fun had always been.
“No,” he said. “I was early.”
“I never doubted you,” I said. I looked around. “This is a fitting place for lessons, huh?”
“Right?” Bennet got up from behind the desk, hands behind his back, suspenders hooked to his dark blue pants, rising up a nice, white shirt with pale red lines forming checks.
He looked too much like Matt Smith’s Doctor for anyone’s good.
Except, he was even cuter. Floppy hair fell over his brow, curling lightly at the ends, reading glasses black and elegant, shoulders broader than they’d seemed under the hoodie.
“Nice clothes,” I said, unable to resist it.
Didn’t it mean something that we’d talked about this just the other day, and he picked the same clothes?
Maybe I was just imagining it. It was one of those weird things when you confused your eagerness to pass Stats with the attraction for your tutor.
Like I’d have an easier time learning this stuff if the teacher thought I was handsome, too.
Bennet tucked his hands into his pockets and looked away. “Thanks.” His voice was low, the word hurried, and it did something to me. “How was…practice?”
I leaned back in my chair, legs kicked forward, hands folded behind my head. “I wrecked my teammates and left a trail of carnage on the field.”
Bennet’s lips quivered slightly into a smile. Or near one, at least. “Is that good?”
“That is incredible,” I said. “Not to brag, but I’m a brute.”
Now he laughed. It was short, restrained, but it was real. He glanced around the room, then at me. “You can sit over here if you want.” He gestured at the big desk.
I hopped onto my feet and carried my chair over to the desk. Bennet circled around to Colby’s seat, and a trail of sweet scent lingered behind him. I inhaled it deep into my lungs, watching the back of his neck. It was long and smooth, skin creamy and clear. “You smell nice,” I said.
He looked at me, wide-eyed for a moment, then nodded. “Um…you too.”
“Yeah?” I cracked a smile. I had no problem telling people nice things, but hearing them was a whole different thing. People didn’t give me compliments, precisely. More often, they told me how good my game was, and that wasn’t a subjective perception but reality.
He looked at me for a moment longer. “Yes.”
“Good to know,” I said.
He sat down and opened the textbook, looking over the page. “Glad to see you’re fully clothed,” Bennet said, words coming from some quiet place inside him that I was suddenly sure he didn’t let out often enough.
I laughed aloud and shook my head. “Liar. You’re not glad at all.”
When he looked up from the page, his cheeks were a touch redder. “I…”
“I’m teasing you,” I said.
“Oh.” He exhaled, laughing only a little.
As I watched his fingers move over the page, a slight tremor passing through them, I realized something that had gone over my head before. He wasn’t rude at all. He wasn’t entirely uninterested in me. And he didn’t lack a sense of humor.
He was awkward.
And that was on me. I hadn’t done enough to break the ice. I’d just stormed in, all football confidence and easy jokes, and I hadn’t even tried to make him comfortable.
I’d invited him to watch Seeds of Soulless because a casual invite like that wouldn’t make me bat an eye, but we weren’t the same. Bennet had been nervous about going, nervous about replacing the date who had walked out on me, and I hadn’t done enough to make sure he felt good around me.
I kept forgetting that people had that weird feeling around athletes on a pro track. They got all flustered and nervous. Especially the nerdier guys. I’d gone on dates with a few, walking in like I was heaven-sent, making things awkward for everyone.
But there was something cute about the awkwardness, too.
“Let’s get busy,” Bennet said with a healthy dose of confidence. This was him in his element. He could be very cocky about the stats, same as I could about my perfect runs.
I sat through the next hour, my brain sweating with effort to memorize all this stuff. The trouble wasn’t just that I couldn’t understand how standard deviation was calculated. It would be great if that were my only problem.
The real issue came in the form of Bennet’s lips, the accented Cupid’s bow, the gentle upward curl of the corners, the sheer redness and fullness that had me gazing at him until it was rude.
“Your eyelashes are so freaking long,” I said, then stopped myself when he shot me a confused look. “I didn’t realize I was saying that aloud.”
“Is that what you’re thinking about?” Bennet asked, clearly conflicted between being flattered and annoyed. “That won’t be on the test, Jason.”
Feisty. It didn’t help my case one bit.
I didn’t have a type. I really didn’t. I liked guys who liked guys, and that was about it. But if I had to pick, if someone pressed me hard and made me choose, I’d have to say that willowy twinks with an attitude took the crown.
“Sorry,” I said, but I wasn’t. We both knew it.
Bennet smoothed his expression and lifted one eyebrow, then tapped the textbook. “It’s very important to me that you pass this test.”
I chuckled. “Why?”
He blinked, then relaxed his shoulders a little bit. “For one thing, it’ll reflect badly on me if you fail,” he said. Just as I feigned a wounded expression, he shared a tiny smile. “Plus, believe it or not, I actually care if you get to keep playing on the team.”
“Really? Ever seen me play?” I asked.
“God, no. But I understand that different people have different interests,” he said. “Football’s about as far from mine as something can be.”
“Lots of hot guys in tight pants grappling?” I asked.
“Is that why you do it?” Bennet asked.
He got me there. I shook my head. “No. But it’s a bonus for the crowd.” I hesitated, then let the words tumble out. “You are gay, right?” He’d mentioned having had a crush on Matt Smith after I’d said it first, but I hadn’t wanted to push him on it.
Bennet shot me a deadpan look. “You’re really not into these projections, huh?”
“Just asking,” I said with a laugh. “Unless you don’t want to talk about it. Which is also cool.”
Bennet flipped the page in total silence that went on, then nodded, not looking at me. “Yeah, I’m gay. I thought you knew.”
“Thought so, too,” I said.
“Now that that’s out of the way, we can multiply the average by whatever number is on this axis, but that will only give us a straight line,” he continued.
“Oh no, we don’t want straight.”
He yawned uncontrollably, and I couldn’t help it. I laughed and shut the textbook in front of him. “Let’s call it a day, Bennet.”
He checked the time and agreed. “I’ve been in lectures since the morning,” he said.
“Do you ever skip any?” I asked.
He looked at me like I’d just slapped him. “Of course not.”
“When do you get to sleep off a hangover? Or do the walk of shame after a crappy one-night stand?”
“I…don’t do any of that,” he said.
As I got up, my back whimpered with stiffness. I raised my arms high above my head and stretched, not missing the way his gaze swept over the inch of flesh that appeared when my sweater dragged up. “Because you don’t like booze and sex?”
He stammered and frowned. “Not…exactly. It’s not that I don’t like it. I just…” He cocked his head. “You’re very good at distracting me. Because we didn’t get to finish this graph, you’ll have to try it on your own. Don’t worry if you get it wrong. Mistakes can be revealing.”
“Righty-right,” I said. “I’ll mess it up, and you’ll tell me why it’s all wrong.”
He fixed his glasses and sighed. “Yes. Hopefully, it will help you better understand your mistakes and do better next time.”
I thought about it for a moment, then thrust my hands into my sweatpants. “You know, I don’t learn from my mistakes.”
“Just perfect,” he said, not even fighting me.
We packed our things and headed for the door. “I’ll walk you home,” I offered.
“We live on the same street,” Bennet pointed out.
“Makes my task so much easier,” I said. “So. It’s not that you don’t like alcohol and sex.”
He sliced me in half with a swift gaze, then surrendered because I was just relentless. Sighing, he said, “I have goals. And if I want to achieve them, I have to stick to a path I planned for myself. I don’t have time for messing around with guys or going to parties.”
We walked out of the building, and I pulled my jacket closer against the night chill. “You kidding? There’s plenty of time in a day.”
“Yes, but what if…I dunno. What if I fall in love and it messes up all my plans? Or if I start going to parties all the time. Or both. Besides, we’re way too young for big stuff like that. I think I should stay focused and not make major life mistakes.”
“Mistakes are the spice you need in life,” I said. “Besides, we are young, but you’re not so immature. You’re much older than you think.”
Bennet glanced at me, and I could see it on his face; I could see that he wanted to agree with that.
“There’s a party at our place on Friday,” I said. “You should come.”
He shook his head decisively. “It’s Dungeons & Dragons night.”
“You play?” I asked.
“I’m a physics nerd living in the Thinkers’ House,” Bennet said bluntly. “What do you think?”
I slowed down and turned to face him. “I think we’re more than stereotypes, Bennet. And I think Dungeons & Dragons is awesome.”
He was so ready for me to tease him about the nerdiness that my words caught him unexpectedly. He opened his mouth, then shut it, thought about it, and tried again. “Have you ever played?”
“Me? Hell yeah. I had a crew in high school, and we played twice a month. Bet you’re some kind of mage.”
A mix of shyness and pride was too cute when he cocked his head and let the corners of his lips lift a little. “Paladin.”