Dean
CHAPTER EIGHT
As soon as my door clicks shut behind me, I let myself break into a devious, douchey grin, one I reserve only for when I’m alone.
I am so in.
Not to get ahead of myself, but the signs are all there. Nick got all cute and flustered with me after I came out, and hell if I’m not reading into his reaction a little too much. Sure, we didn’t do more than bro flirting, but he invited me to hang out today. That's gotta mean something.
Hopefully that he wants to get in my pants.
I flop down onto my creaky couch and pull out my phone. After updating Claire about the plans tonight, I skim through my emails and stop mid-scroll when my eyes catch on one I missed.
One that came in a couple of hours ago. That’s in Chinese.
Subject: Job Offer: Position ID 889103-01
With my heart in my throat, I jam my finger on the screen to open the email.
Shen Dailin:
We are pleased to offer you the position of Associate Analyst at National Commercial Bank, Shenzhen Headquarters. To accept this offer, please scan the 2D code to provide your personal information for background verification within 48 hours.
I don’t read any further. I don’t need to, given the hours of research I’ve poured into this job and company over the past year. Grinning, I navigate through the portal and enter my ID number, tapping my fingers against the side of my phone as I wait for the loading screen to finish processing.
And the screen darkens with a pop-up and ominous red text.
My stomach sinks.
Identity verification not successful. Please try again.
I dig my ID card out to reference it in case I somehow forgot the number, and I go through the portal again.
The servers are busy. Please try again later.
The servers are busy. Bullshit. That's just the catch-all for when a program wants to get rid of you.
Like, sure, my ID expired a few months ago, but the card expires, not the person. The number is supposed to stay the same for my whole life.
Rolling my eyes, I click out of the menu and scroll down to where I can select a different ID type, grumbling as I wade through a form again.
There’s no fucking reason for this to be as complicated as it is, seriously. I gave them my ID when I applied, and it was accepted back then.
After uploading a scan of my passport, letting out a frustrated sigh when I get confirmation that my background check is going through manual verification.
At least I filled the form out. They can’t possibly fault me if it takes longer to go through.
I should have gone home last summer and renewed my ID. It’s a small mishap for sure, but it’s another annoying inconvenience of not being in China. One of many that’ll go the hell away when I move back.
Tossing my phone to the side, I let out a sigh and run a hand across my face. My mood really did a full one-eighty in the space of a minute. I’ll have to get a grip before I go out tonight so I don’t drive Nick away with a pissy attitude.
My phone rings, and I have to reach over to grab it given how far I flung it.
It’s Claire.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hi. You’re going to the frat party.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t not going—”
“Can’t talk. I’m on my way to yours to get ready, and make sure to wear something Nick can't resist. See you!”
She hangs up, and I sit blinking for a couple of seconds before shaking my head and heading to my bedroom to get changed.
Wear something Nick can't resist. I roll my eyes while unzipping my pants—at this point, the chances of us having a no-feelings hookup are zero.
Brushing mindlessly over my dick gets me to banish the last of my reservations. A tempting image of Nick, hot as hell with those bulky arms and his cocky, smartass smile, flickers through my brain.
We’re friends, and I still have to tutor him for the next little bit, so there’s no walking away, but what if we didn’t have to walk away? After all, there is a middle ground between a one-night stand and full-on dating, at least beyond the binary I've set for myself.
If Nick bites, we could have a fling before we graduate. He’s a senior, too, so we’d be on the same page, and the feelings would be way easier to manage if there’s a fixed end date, right?
I might not have a flight home yet, but my visa runs out after I graduate. There’s no getting around it.
Maybe I can reward his progress in class with something he'll really like, that’d be…mutually beneficial.
Snapping out of my daydreaming, I stand almost naked in front of my closet for a few seconds before deciding on my default outfit of a black T-shirt and light-wash jeans.
I grab a combo I know is gonna show off my gains to a hopefully appreciative Nick.
I might not be as jacked as he is, but I can definitely hold my own.
Yup, I’m gonna work Nick over tonight. I’ll hit on him a little, see what he does, and then go from there.
The worst thing he could do is say no, and I won’t push, but the best thing he could do is come back here.
Again, I don’t want to get ahead of myself, although I have a good feeling about our prospects given how cute he got during his tutoring session.
While waiting for Claire to show up, I nurse a hard seltzer, and after she barrels into my apartment with a case of beer in tow, I down one of those while she borrows my hair dryer—I got a fancy one back home a few years ago, and she’s asked to steal it countless times.
And then we’re off to meet Nick and his friends in front of the Kappa house. Claire says some of the softball team is apparently going as well, but she wanted to head in early with me to witness what may or may not go down between me and Nick.
Not that I need any more pressure.
I spot Nick waiting on the sidewalk with Jeremy. Nick’s changed into a polo and a light pair of jeans, and I don’t notice what Jeremy’s wearing because Nick’s turned away from me, making his rear extremely visible.
What can I say? I like what I like.
“It’s just us tonight,” Jeremy says, dapping me and Claire up as we approach. “Our buddy Ian and his boyfriend Callum have ‘conflicting commitments,’ apparently.”
“Ian’s dad is in town,” Nick retorts, giving me a fist bump. “Give the man some credit.”
The speed with which he defended his friend makes my stomach flip like heck. Jesus. He’s hot and loyal? Sign me the hell up.
“Anyway, let’s head in. Come on.” Nick slings an aggressive arm around my shoulder and pulls me forward, a move I know is friendly but sends a spark down my spine, nonetheless.
He’s already a little buzzed, and through the fresh, nautical smell of what I assume is his shower gel, there’s a tiny hint of scotch.
As much as I’d love to taste that on his lips later, we hopefully won’t drink too much tonight—I want us to both be present for whatever happens.
If anything happens.
“Should we line up?” I ask, and Nick huffs in amusement.
“Nah, I have an in.” At that, he cocks his head over to the side of the house, and we follow him the rest of the way.
“Sup, Russell.” The guy standing at the side door sends an upward nod in our direction, which makes his fluffy, sand-brown hair shake. “How many are you bringing tonight?”
Nick gives the guy a fist bump. “Four, including me.”
“Nice, nice. Head on in.”
Sheesh. He’s got so much vocal fry. Fraccents are definitely real, and despite what Nick thinks, I do not sound like that. Not even close.
Okay, maybe a little if I’m tired or drunk off my ass, but not all the time.
“Thanks, Cam.” Nick turns to me. “We went to high school together. Cam’s a sophomore on the hockey team.”
“You're friends?” I ask.
“Kind of.”
“I figured. Jeremy’s theory about you and your friends is proving to be true.”
Nick chokes on a breath and slaps my back. “Nahhhhh. Bro, come on. Cam's straight.”
“Hey, hot guys are hot.” I stop short of winking at Nick, opting for subtlety instead and bumping his shoulder with mine. “He’s a sophomore, anyway. I don’t like them young.”
“Whatever. My friends are all off-limits anyway—”
Because you’ve called dibs on me?
“—let’s grab drinks.”
I nod, forming a plan when Claire splits off to join some of her teammates.
Getting under a guy’s skin and his clothes is a well-practiced art for me.
A little smirk and a pointed look, coupled with a flirty one-liner is all it takes, but with Nick, I hesitate. That just seems scummy and impersonal.
My compromise is offering to brave the crowd around the keg to grab him a beer, and after the ordeal is over, he takes the wet, overflowing cup of mostly foam and gives me another one of his sexy little smiles, making my stomach heat up.
Holy fuck, I’ve got it bad, and I don’t mind at all.
“Thanks,” he says, taking a sip and nodding over at someone behind me. It’s a tall-ish buff guy in a flannel shirt and tight jeans, flanked by two smiling women.
“He’s our teammate Steve,” Nick tells me. “I think he’s gonna put on a show for everyone.”
Intrigued, I raise an eyebrow, but Nick stays silent and nods back at Steve, who’s handing his drink to one of his companions and sauntering to the center of the room where the crowd has already formed a clearing.
A clearing around the stripper pole that I didn’t notice until now.
Fucking frats. You gotta love them.
The burly athlete mounts the pole, drawing loud cheers, and shimmies up toward the top.
There’s nothing professional about the way he moves, clinging to the metal with nothing more than his hands and the bare backs of his knees.
Still, it works, and he shoots the crowd a wink and licks his lips, stabilizing himself with one hand and undoing the buttons on his shirt with the other.
Nick nudges my shoulder, smirking, and I give him a shrug before turning back to the impromptu show. Call me sleazy, but I wouldn’t mind seeing Steve take more of his clothes off. The rest of the room seems to share my thoughts, too, given how loudly they’re all egging him on.