Chapter Two
Everett Young
Professor Andros is droning on about project management, smacking his wooden pointer against the whiteboard every few exclamations for emphasis. We only have fifteen minutes left of class time, yet I feel like I’ll be in this chair until I’m fifty.
Strategic Management is by far one of the most torturous classes I’ve taken thus far.
I don’t understand how a single person in this room can be enjoying this cruel and unusual punishment.
But then again, I guess if I actually liked my major, I’d probably care a bit more.
I might even want to be here. But I don’t, so I’d rather be literally anywhere else.
And in moments like these, the ones in which I’m tired of feeling trapped in this tiny box of a room, daydreaming comes in handy. I can detach myself from my surroundings and float away—to somewhere more entertaining, somewhere that excites me.
Like to the beach. Yesterday on the beach, to be exact. The Vipers had their second game of the week, and it was a crushing win. They took both sets, making it to the twenty-one-point mark before the other team ever saw ten.
But with Skylar on the sand, that’s bound to happen. He’s always been phenomenal; he’s ridiculously good at everything he attempts. It can actually be kind of annoying, especially when I’m mediocre at everything I attempt. Well, everything but sex.
Skylar stepped out onto the court yesterday and didn’t hesitate. His lean body was so sure of itself, muscles so unnecessarily obscene as he reached above his head to spike the ball.
I’ve seen him in every state of being. I’ve seen Skylar in a tux, all done up for prom.
I’ve seen him snotty and disheveled with a cold.
I’ve seen him butt-ass naked in the showers at the public pool.
There is no version of Sky that I do not know; that isn’t in my never-ending file dedicated just to him, stored so deeply within my mind.
But as we’ve grown older, as I’ve stuffed that folder further, I’ve come to realize that everything Skylar does is uncomfortably… filthy. He’s beautiful, and that bratty attitude only adds fuel to the fire.
You might say he has a shitty personality. Okay, maybe shitty is the wrong word, but he’s a little bit of a dick—blunt, unmoving, a tad narcissistic.
And sure, he’s kind and loving in his own ways, and never unnecessarily cruel, but that doesn’t change the fact that his exterior can be quite cold.
It makes his mascot, a viper, all the more fitting. It’s as if I’ve domesticated a venomous, lunging reptile that’s wrapping itself around my neck to rest at night. He’s constantly seeking out the warmth of my body, full of coiled anger and a menacing aura.
But if you handle him just right—if you keep from holding too tightly and pet him with slow, deliberate strokes, you’ll find that he can be impressively sweet.
And in some cases, a bit territorial. Snapping those fangs in my defense, shedding his skin right on me so the whole world knows that I’m his best friend.
Knowing all of this about Skylar and knowing that I’m one of the very few people allowed within striking range… that really does something to me. It makes me a bit possessive of him; it triggers something deeply rooted in the caveman part of my brain.
Which is concerning, as I don’t know very many people who are happy to domesticate their bratty best friends. And is it normal, the amount in which I watch him?
There’s a hidden guilt here, too; a lingering shame, because sometimes when I’m watching him my thoughts are… perverted.
It’s confusing, and more often than not I find myself shoving the whole issue under the rug, prepared to deal with it another day, at another time. Skylar is my best friend, and most of the time, it’s just that easy.
And as for moments like yesterday, as I watched his thighs tense or his stomach flex, and I felt that sick, hot desire—well, I can bury those too.
“Everett!”
I startle in my chair, turning to look up at Andrew as he stands over me. He’s grinning—amused.
“I’ve been calling you,” he continues. “Class is dismissed.”
I rub at the back of my neck, embarrassed. “Oh shit, I must have zoned out a bit.”
Andrew doesn’t pry, but hands me my bag and steps back to let me stand. We make our way from the classroom to the front of Webster Hall.
“I get it. Shit was boring. Hey, we’re going out tonight, do you wanna come?” he asks, running a hand through his thick, dark hair.
I pretend to consider the offer.
“Nah, not tonight. I have plans.” I try to sound at least a little bit disappointed, and it must work well enough, because Andrew sighs.
“You’re always blowing us off. Who has your attention, hm? Is she hot?” He bumps my shoulder, smirking at me.
It’s amusing that he assumes I’m ditching them to get laid, when in reality, I’m ditching them to lie on the couch with Skylar.
I don’t respond; instead, I give him a wink and a smile before skipping off to my next class.
My day on campus ends a bit later than Skylar’s, so I walk back to his apartment alone. By the time I’m unlocking the front door and kicking my shoes off, I’m already over the day and ready to sleep. But knowing Sky, that won’t be happening.
I can hear low music playing from his bedroom, so I head straight back. Skylar is lying on his stomach, workbook and papers spread around him on the bed.
His head lifts as I walk in, and he gives me a goofy smile. I try not to focus on the curve of his spine or how soft the skin of his lower back looks.
He’s wearing a pair of his lounge shorts and no shirt—I have to look away and remind myself how gross it is to have reactions to his beauty.
“How was class?” he asks, propping his chin up on his palm with his elbows placed firmly on the bed.
“Boring and exhausting,” I respond honestly.
Skylar laughs, scooting to the right so that I can sit next to where he lies on the bed. “You poor baby. Now get your homework out; we need to finish so that tomorrow we can do nothing but party.”
Ah, that’s right. His birthday party.
“Who all did you invite, anyway?” I pick my bag up off the floor, pulling out my papers for the week.
“Uh, a few volley guys. And obviously Kelly and Henry.” He’s half-paying attention, copying something from his workbook onto a stray piece of paper.
“So, it’ll be small then?” I can’t help but sound a little hopeful. I kind of like it when it’s just us four, or when it’s just us two.
Skylar huffs out a small laugh, looking up to give me a look that tells me he thinks I’m ridiculous. “If you think the people I invited aren’t going to bring their own friends, you’re crazy.”
I consider this for a moment, watching as he turns back to his work, his long fingers wrapped around his wooden pencil. Skylar hates the mechanical ones.
So it’ll be a big group after all. And since he invited guys from volleyball, that means his teammate will be there too, I’m sure.
“Is your teammate going to make it?” I try to keep my tone casual, leaning back on my palms as I watch him.
Skylar looks back up, trying to read me. “Dante?” At my nod, he continues, saying, “Yeah, he’ll be there. Why?”
Why? I’m not sure. But every time I picture them on the sand, Dante crowding Skylar’s space, his sweaty skin pressed against Sky’s, I feel sick. Dante has weaseled his way into striking range.
“Well, whatever.” I laugh, brushing the conversation to the side as I shift until I’m lying over Skylar’s back, hearing the oof leave his chest at my weight.
“God, Evie,” he complains. “You’re crushing me. Fuck off.”
I feel his voice vibrate through his body; I feel the hair on the back of his head tickle my face.
“Don’t be mean, puppy. You know you love me.”
Skylar gives up, going slack beneath me as I push more of my weight onto him.
He sighs. “Yeah, I do.”
Kelly is browsing the shelf stocked with whiskey, comparing fluid ounces to price to taste. Our cart is already pretty full, glass bottles clinking together obnoxiously as the wheels hit different cracks and divots. And in the car is a trunk full of snacks and paper cups.
“Is it really that serious?” I question, to which Kelly shoots me a scathing look.
“Yes, it is. We’re all chipping in, and I want to get the best bang for our buck.” She grabs the largest bottle of Crown she can find and drops it into the cart.
“Makes sense.”
Kelly is quiet for a moment, continuing to browse, but she can never stay silent for long. Eventually, she cracks, saying, “I hope Sky loosens up tonight.”
My gaze finds her, turning away from the bottle I was inspecting. “What does that mean?”
“It means that he’s a twenty-two-year-old virgin.” She gives me a blank look. “That boy needs to get crazy.”
I raise a brow, a feeling of anxiety slowly rising in my chest. “I don’t think Sky wants that.”
I put the bottle I’m holding back on the shelf, pretending to focus on a new one. As Kelly doesn’t reply, I add, “I think he’s just fine.”
She sighs. “If he is, then good for him. I’m just saying, might as well set the stage just in case he wants to let loose.” Her large brown eyes peer up at me, resembling a mischievous baby deer. “Haven’t you ever wondered what slutty Sky is like?”
I can feel the heat of a flush coming over me, creeping up my neck and raising goosebumps on my skin.
No, I have not. Will not. Am not allowed to.
“No,” I answer firmly, pushing the cart down the aisle. Kelly snickers.
Skylar is my best friend, and just because I started staring at his ass a few years ago doesn’t mean shit.
Kelly has no idea what she’s talking about.
Everything is set out neatly—liquor lining the bar and a large cooler full of ice set to the side. The plastic cups are stacked nearby; snacks are laid out on the kitchen counters.
Henry is setting up some kind of speaker, and just as some shitty rap song starts to shake the walls of the apartment, Skylar appears from his bedroom.
“Damn, Sky. Lookin’ hot.” Kelly whistles, snapping her fingers in his direction.
Skylar blushes, rolling his eyes to cover up his embarrassment. “Shut up, Kelly.”
But she isn’t wrong. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans that sit low on his hips and a blue shirt that hugs him very well, almost like a second skin. The outfit is so simple, and yet he somehow looks incredibly filthy with such narrow hips and those big eyes.
“What are you glaring at, asshole?” he hisses at me, flicking my forehead.
Oh, I’ve been staring.
“I’m just thinking about how I’ll have to babysit your ass tonight,” I deflect.
Skylar narrows his eyes, scoffing. “I’m pretty sure it’s always me taking your post-orgasm self back home while some girl glares at me from the bed.”
I blush, looking away from his judgmental eyes. “Fair point.”
“Guests are arriving!” Henry shouts over the music, heading toward the front door.
Skylar taps my chest, regaining my attention as he grins. “Wanna take the first shot of the night together?”