Chapter 23 #2
“I’m happy for you.” His tone is softer than I’ve heard in a long time. “I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy. You know that, right?”
“I know, Dad. And I am.”
“Good.” He clears his throat in that way he does when he wants to change the subject but can’t think of a segue. “I’ll let you go then. Have a good night. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
The line goes dead as he ends the call, and I toss my phone back on the coffee table.
“That was your dad?” West asks as he puts his phone next to mine.
“It was.” Just because I can, I sling one arm over West’s shoulders and pull him toward me.
He comes willingly, and we settle with me sitting back against the couch and West snuggled up to my side.
We’ve spent a lot of time sitting like this since the night West and I fucked without the mask. I’ve never been big on cuddles and prolonged body contact with people, but I like holding West and feeling him curled up to me like this.
It took almost a week of meeting up every night to fuck and hang out before he stopped expecting me to kick him out the second we were done fucking. And only in the last few days has he started to feel comfortable enough to initiate things and give me the same casual touches I’ve been giving him.
“I don’t know what it is about hearing you speak Italian, but that was beyond sexy,” he says, nuzzling his cheek against my shoulder.
“I’ll have to remember to do that in front of you more often,” I say. “Whisper sweet nothings in your ear in Italian to get you all hot and bothered.”
“You wouldn’t even have to stick to the sweet stuff,” he says with a laugh. “You could literally say anything, and I’d be like, you know what? That’s a really good point. Please tell me more.”
I huff out a laugh and brush a lock of his hair back from where it’s tickling my face. “Anything?” I tease.
“Yup, anything.” He gently runs his hand over my thigh in a lazy, abstract pattern. “Is everything okay at home?”
“Everything’s fine. He just heard something about the house and wanted to know what I know about it.”
“Something about the house?” he asks.
I know he heard me say Xave’s name and mention the Hawthornes a few times while I was breaking everything down for my dad, and I know he has to be curious about what we were talking about.
“A security issue,” I tell him. “Someone was sneaking into the house for a bit.”
“What?” West asks, not quite pulling off the surprise he was probably going for. “Like, an outsider?”
I already figured West knows about Xave since Damon is his best friend, and his reaction confirms it.
“Yup. But we’ve got it all under control.”
“Do you know who it was?” he asks, his tone too careful to be merely curious.
“I do. And I know how he’s been getting in without us knowing.”
West is silent for a moment, then he stiffens in my arms. “Holy shit.” He looks up at me with wide eyes. “That’s how you’ve been getting into my room. You have Xave’s program.”
“It’s an app,” I correct cheekily. “And it sounds like you know more about this than I do since I never used any names.”
His face goes beet red. “I…I…” he stammers.
“Relax, babe.” I press a quick kiss against his forehead. “You’re fine.”
“But I lied to you.”
“You didn’t lie. You just didn’t tell me.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
I brush a lock of his hair back so it’s not tickling my chin. “A lie of omission is, but only if you purposely hide the information. I never asked, and you never brought it up, so you didn’t lie. You just kept the truth to yourself.”
“You’re not pissed that I didn’t tell you?”
“No. You were being loyal to your friend, and that says way more about your character than if you betrayed him to score brownie points with me. Now, if I asked you and you lied to my face, that might be different, but again, you’re being loyal to your best friend, and I respect that.”
“So what’s going to happen to Damon?”
“Nothing, as long as he hasn’t done anything to fuck me, or the frat over.”
“And Xave?”
“Same thing. As long as he doesn’t fuck us over, he’s fine.”
“Why didn’t you turn them in?” he asks. “Why would you risk going down with them if they fuck up?”
“My family has a saying,” I tell him. “Sapere è potere. It means knowledge is power. Turning them in would have been advantageous in the moment, but having that kind of leverage over Xave, and by extension, his cousins, is way more beneficial to me than getting some props and good favor from the leadership, or even the alumni.”
“That makes sense,” he says, nuzzling his cheek against my chest like a happy kitten. “How did your family end up as part of the Misfit House?”
The Keeper house is officially named Montague House, but it’s had a ton of nicknames over the years, including Romeo House, which is the one most people still use today, but for decades, it was referred to as the Misfit House because of who founded it.
Like the other three societies on campus, the Oathkeepers were founded by a group of students and their parents in the years after Silvercrest was established. And like everything in life, the founding families all had specific things in common that united them and gave their frats an identity.
The Kingmakers, or the Kings as everyone calls them, are the descendants of royalty and nobility, and they’re known for thinking their shit doesn’t stink because their ancestors held a title in some random European country a dozen generations ago.
The Rebels were founded by a group of families who made their fortunes in less-than-legal ways and were in the process of adding legal enterprises to their business models.
Most of the Rebels still have some shady links, but there are some, like the Hawthornes, who have deep ties to organized crime and all sorts of nasty stuff that goes on in the black markets.
The Serpents were founded by families who’d made their fortunes in science and innovation, essentially the biggest nerds with the most money on campus.
They’re still a bunch of nerds, but they’ve since expanded their membership to include tech bros, and now they’re also known for the intense infighting and self-sabotage going on within their walls.
Then there’s us, the Oathkeepers, the only house that’s never had any consistent criteria for members, and the only things tying all the founding families together were their money and their shared saltiness at being passed over by the other frats.
Sniping the strays who would normally have been snapped up by the other frats on campus is still how most of our new members are chosen, so the name fits.
“How did yours?” I ask.
It’s not that I don’t want to tell him; I’m just curious about his family and want to take advantage of the chance to get some backstory on them while the subject is open.
“My great-grandfather was actually tapped to be a Rebel,” he says with a soft chuckle. “But then one of the leaders at the time found out that my great-grandpa kissed his girlfriend during the school’s welcome dance the week before.”
“How scandalous,” I say gravely.
He gently nuzzles his cheek against mine.
“It caused quite the ruckus, and he was booted out of the Rebels about an hour after he got his initiation letter. Family legend says he heard rumblings about founding a new frat after all this went down and joined them as a fuck you to the Rebels. What about your family?”
“Do you want the simple answer, or the nuanced one?” I ask.
“The real one,” he says, slipping his hand under my shirt to gently rub my stomach.
“Racism,” I say simply.
His hand freezes for a beat, then resumes its lazy circles.
“My great-grandfather wasn’t born here,” I explain. “His parents immigrated from Italy when he was six months old. He spent his entire life here, but there was a lot of geopolitical unrest going on when he started at Silvercrest, and a lot of people didn’t trust him.”
I lightly brush my lips against his temple. “If it had been any other time, or any other leadership group in charge, he would have gotten an initiation letter for the Kings. When he didn’t, he took that personally and joined the movement to establish the Keepers.”
He shifts, draping his leg over one of mine, letting it hang in the space between my knees.
“I don’t understand hating someone because of how they look or where they’re from.
It just doesn’t make sense to judge someone for something they can’t control instead of judging them for who they are and how they act. ”
“That’s because you’re a good person.”
“So are you,” he says. “You’re not like that.”
“No, I’m not,” I agree. “But I’m not a good person.”
He gives me an assessing look, and for a moment, I think he’s going to argue with me, but he just leans up and presses a soft kiss against my lips. “I think you’re a good person. You might do some bad things, but that doesn’t make you bad inside.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one,” I tell him.
He leans against my chest and mumbles something I can’t make out.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
I pinch his side.
“Hey!” He jumps, trying to twist away, but he’s so tangled up in me that all he manages is jostling us about. “Rude.”
I pinch him again, then grab him around the waist and pull him onto my lap when he squeals and tries to wiggle away.
He settles on me with one of his legs on either side of mine and drapes his arms over my shoulders. “You could have just asked if you wanted me to move.”
“I could have.” I run my hands up and down his sides, sliding them over the soft material of his t-shirt. “But where’s the fun in that?”
He glances at my bed, then lets out a long groan. “I should go soon.”
I glance at the clock and see he’s right. It’s getting late, and we both need to get some sleep.
“At least my first class isn’t until nine tomorrow.
” He rests his forehead against mine. “I still can’t believe I was dumb enough to sign up for an eight a.m. class on Fridays this semester.
At least Damon’s in that one with me, so I’m not suffering alone.
But tomorrow is going to be a rough morning. ”
“I had a seven a.m. class last year.” I slide my hands under his tee and caress his smooth skin. “It was the only time it was offered. I’m never signing up for one of those again.”
“Making us go to class that early should be illegal.” His voice soft and dreamy as I trace my nails down his back. “You’re getting me all excited when I can’t do anything about it.”
“Who says you can’t do anything about it?” I ask with a smirky grin I know will make him blush.
His cheeks go pink, and I slide my hands to his ass so I can squeeze the full globes.
“Take your dick out,” I tell him. “Then you’re going to take my dick out.”
“And then what?” he asks when I don’t continue.
“Then you’re going to get us off,” I tell him. “But you’re not allowed to come until I say so. Understood?”
He nods and licks his lips.
“Just hands this time.”
His expression falls, and I can’t hide my smile at his reaction.
West loves sucking my dick. I have no idea if it’s because he’s new to hooking up with a guy and it’s still fun and exciting for him, but he acts like I just gave him the best gift ever any time I tell him to get on his knees or pull my dick out.
It’s strangely adorable while also being hot as fuck, and it makes every time he puts his mouth on me that much more incredible.
“Only hands because you’re going to look at me while you do it,” I tell him. “You can kiss me, but otherwise, your eyes are on me. Got it?”
“Yeah,” he says breathily. “Got it.”
“Then go ahead.”
He grins and jams his hand down the front of his pants to free his dick, and I slide mine under the back of his sweats so I can palm his ass.
We might not have a lot of time, but we have enough, and both of us should sleep like the dead tonight if the Os are as good as they always are with him.