Chapter 12
TWELVE
CHANCE
As I’m stepping out of the shower, a knock sounds at my door. I sincerely hope it’s not one of the girls that hangs around the frat house trying to hook up with one of us. I’ve never been into it, but it doesn’t stop them from trying.
Classes started two and a half weeks ago and they’re going pretty well. I’m swamped with schoolwork as well as swimming practice, but I’m keeping my head above water.
Kind of.
Since I’m supposed to be training for Olympic trials this year, Coach has been working me harder than usual in the 200-meter freestyle event.
Soon, I’ll have to tell him that I’m not going to try out, but two-a-day practices have been keeping my mind off the two men that cloud my damn dreams.
Another sharp knock at my door pulls me away from the rabbit hole of my memories and I call out for whoever it is to come in.
One of my frat brothers and swim teammates, Priest, pokes his head in and shakes a box at me. “A package came for you yesterday. I was going to give it to you last night, but you headed upstairs right after practice and didn’t come back down. Here ya go.”
He tosses it to me and I catch it, glad my towel stays put. “Thanks man.”
“No biggie. Hey, you got class this morning? I can walk with you to campus.”
“Yep. I’ll be ready in half an hour.”
“Cool,” he says, rapping his knuckles against my door. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready.”
Sitting down on my bed, I look at the package, then roll my eyes when I see Felicity’s name.
She’s called me every night for the past week, asking if I’d gotten anything in the mail. I figured she was going to order something on my birthday when I reminded her, but it looks like she wanted to send some shit herself.
Peeling open the box, I find a pair of her panties on the top, wrapped around a bottle of cologne.
Cologne I fucking hate.
Cologne that my father wears and I can’t stand the sight or smell of it.
And her panties wrapped around it?
Almost as if she has a fucking sixth sense, my phone rings with her number flashing on the screen.
Taking in a fortifying breath, I answer the phone. “Hey Felicity.”
“Baby! Hey! You didn’t call me back yesterday. I was waiting in my room for you to hit me back all night.”
Yeah, I fucking doubt that. I’m not sure if Felicity remembers but she shared her location with me on one of those apps she made me download and I got an alert that she was speeding down a highway just before I got dressed for bed.
Figured I shouldn’t call and distract her while she’s already doing some reckless shit.
Not wanting to deal with her shit, I say, “I was tired, Felicity. What’s up? I have class soon.”
“Did you get my gift? I picked it out special for you.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she singsongs. “I knew you’d love it. I know my man.”
If I roll my eyes any further back in my head, they’d get stuck.
Felicity knows nothing about me. I think she’s been hanging on so hard so she can get a ring and become my wife. She’s done the bare minimum, thinking her pussy will be what keeps me.
Even before what happened at the hotel, I wasn’t feeling her anymore. Thorne and Warren only solidified it.
I need to tell Felicity about what happened. Not details but tell her I cheated on her so I can be done with this. She’s already cheated, but I know she’ll deny it. If I’m the bad guy, there’s a good chance she’ll let me go without much of a fuss.
Opening my mouth to drop the bomb on her, I’m cut off when she gasps dramatically. “What?” I ask.
“I meant to tell you. There’s this new line at that Sacks store down the street from campus. It’s so beautiful. The colors are…”
She goes on and on about some new fall clothing line, not even asking about school or practice or literally anything about my life.
I’m so fucking alone. Surrounded by my frat brothers, but I only have one real friend.
But two people showed me they wanted me, at least. They gave me the fucking night of my life, exactly what I needed.
By the time Felicity is done yammering and asking me for ten grand—which I didn’t send her—I have ten minutes to get dressed and ready for class.
I scramble around, throwing on clothes and stuffing books and my laptop in my bag.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, praying it’s not Felicity. I let out a long breath when I see it’s my mother. I can’t help the small smile that tips up my lips.
My mom isn’t a bad person. But after being stuck with my dad—an iron clad prenup keeping her in place—she had to find her ways to cope.
That doesn’t stop her from texting me a few times a week—I think she only texts because she can blame typos on her age.
I would be able to hear the slur in her voice from the booze if she calls and try to get her into a treatment program.
Again.
Mom: Hey dear. I’m so sorry I forgot to call on your birthday. I told myself to do it before going to an art exhibit and fell asleep as soon as I got home.
More like she forgot because she was too drunk and passed out. Sighing, I text her back, knowing I’d forgive her for anything.
Me: It’s okay, Mom. How are you?
Mom: Good, dear. I’ll text you when you’re not rushing for class.
Smiling, I stuff my phone in my bag.
I hurry downstairs, grab a protein bar, and Priest and I head out. When we get on campus, Jett joins us and we talk about our upcoming swim meet.
Our first meet is in two weeks—an invitational—and everyone but me and Jett are sucking wind. It’s like the entire time we were out for the summer, no one on the team even glanced at a swimming pool. Coach has been giving us shit, riding us extra hard to make sure we’re ready.
We have three invitationals before our first meet for collegiate trials, so I hope everyone is ready by then. Meadowbrook is known for our swim team, so if we fuck up, it might be Coach’s head on the chopping block.
My cheeks heat as we enter the tech building, where Priest and I take Warren’s class. I wave to Jett as we step inside the classroom.
I’m careful to call him Professor Bridge, but it was a near thing that first day. I should have known I couldn’t sit in the front of the class after I knew what his cum tasted like and what his dick felt like on my tongue.
Ever since then, I’ve taken to sitting in the back of the class where I don’t have to see him walking back and forth in front of his smart board, his slacks framing his ass.
It’s not lost on me that I’ve never thought about men before him and Thorne, but now I can’t stop staring at them. That’s something I’ll have to work out some other time, but right now, I just want to enjoy the new feelings.
Maybe this is a phase…or maybe it’s something I’ve buried about myself so I could be what my father always wanted me to be. But since I’m getting from under his thumb, I can do what I want.
The prospect of that is scary.
Priest taps me and gives me a look when I glance at him. “He’s talking to you.”
Shit.
Looking toward the front of the room, I ask, “What was that, Professor?”
Warren smiles briefly, though his cheeks are pink. That same pretty pink I remember after he came. “I asked if you were going to work with Mr. Bakersfield for your project?”
“Oh, yes, Wa-Professor. We’ll be working together.”
Warren dips his chin, then moves on and I blow out a steadying breath. Why do those green eyes landing on me make me feel shaky?
For the rest of the class, I keep my head down so Priest won’t ask me why I’m acting so weird. He’s perceptive, that one.
When Warren dismisses the class, I force myself to leave at a leisurely pace. Last class, I tried to wait until everyone left to talk to Warren, but when I’d turned around, he was already gone. I took that to mean he only wanted that one night in the hotel.
Maybe I can see if Thorne is down for something more.
Since that night, I haven’t been able to think of anything else but experimenting. To see if I really like men or if Thorne’s danger and Warren’s sweet shyness did it for me.
I pull my backpack higher on my shoulder as Jett and Priest talk around me.
“I can’t wait to see the lineup for the relay,” Jett says, practically bouncing beside me. “I hope I get starting.”
Priest says, “And who do you think will be your second leg? Did you even train this summer?”
“Some. I couldn’t do a lot since I had to work, but I stayed in shape.”
“Work,” Priest sneers, and I give him a look. “Sounds boring as fuck. I think I partied most of the summer. Had a good fucking time.” He elbows me, but I don’t take the bait. I went to one party all summer and still had to wake up early the next morning to swim some laps.
Jett hums sweetly, not worried about how Priest is trying to shit on him. “Who do you think will get starting position?”
“Not you. You’re good, but not Meadowbrook good,” Priest says in a snooty voice.
The sneer in Priest’s tone as he talks to Jett is annoying. As if Jett is beneath him. I feel like shit that I haven’t addressed it before. Jett is my friend; more my friend than Priest is.
Jett has checked on me, called, texted. He’s been someone I can count on, and I feel like I’m not a good friend to him as he is to me.
I mull over what to say, wanting to blast Priest for his bullshit, but I see Thorne walking across the quad, so fucking sexy it almost hurts to look at him.
“Hold on,” I say to them and jog over to Thorne. He sees me coming and stops, looking at me with a raised eyebrow.
When I’m standing in front of him, I feel like a blushing virgin, my cheeks warm and my palms sweating. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he says, the rumble of his voice making me shiver.
“How’s school so far for you?”
“Good. You need something?”
Yeah, I need you to tell me what the fuck you did to have my head all fucked up. I need you to make me feel like that again. I need you to touch me, kiss me, fucking talk me through an orgasm.
I say none of those things because I see what he’s not saying. Those eyes I enjoyed peering into in our hotel bubble are shuttered, gazing at me like I’m a stranger.
Technically I am, but he’s looking at me as if we didn’t share my birthday.
Taking it for what it is, I shake my head and back away. “Nah, man. I was just trying to see how you were.”
A faint smile tips up his lips before he walks away. Over his shoulder, he tosses, “Take care, Golden.”
I fight to suppress the groan I want to release as I walk back over to my friends.
“What was that about?” Priest asks as we head to the natatorium.
“Nothing. I was just saying hi,” I say.
“He’s weird and scary looking,” Priest says, staring after Thorne.
“No, he isn’t. He’s cool.”
“Yeah, to a fucking mortician.”
“We had a layover together and he was cool,” I say, defending Thorne. “You just judge him because he wears all black and has tattoos and piercings. It’s his style, not who he is as a person.”
Priest nods. “My bad. I didn’t know you two were friends.”
“We’re not,” I say a little too quickly. “But I also don’t assume shit about people because of their clothes or their personal style.”
“That I know of,” Priest mutters under his breath, though I hear him loud and clear.
I grunt and open the door to the natatorium, the scent of chlorine hitting me in the face.
Coach wanted us here so he can announce the lineup for events and who is on the relay team.
He really could have waited until practice, but no one questions Coach’s quirks.
He’s been at it for decades at Meadowbrook, building the team to what it is now.
“Alright, gentlemen,” Coach says when we take a seat at the bleachers. “Let’s see who’s swimming what, shall we?”
While Coach is talking, I think about what I learned today. Warren and Thorne aren’t into repeat performances. That fucking sucks, but it doesn’t mean I can’t do shit on my own.
Maybe I’ll experiment at our frat party in a few weeks. I’ll probably need some liquid courage to let myself go enough to do what I did with Thorne and Warren.
But that’ll be perfect. I have a few weeks to build up the nerve to see if I’m bi or if I just have it bad for two people.