“I didn’t mean—”
He stepped past him into the room. “What in the hell?”
“Oh, right.” Hunter spun on his heel. “Another frat pranked us last night. I haven’t had a chance to clean it up yet.”
His father swiped through the powdery layer on the bedpost and touched it to his tongue.
Hunter recoiled. “What are you doing?”
His father eyed him. “Making sure it’s not cocaine.”
Hunter fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m not doing drugs, Dad. It’s baby powder. And for the record, my allowance definitely wouldn’t fund this much blow.”
“Watch your mouth, young man.”
“Sor—”
The door of the closet swung open, and Hunter’s heart stopped for a minute. No, not now. Please, Dev. But it was too late. Devon was already heading their way. And he was wearing Hunter’s clothes. Sweats and a knit cap that covered any hint of purple.
“Sorry to interrupt. Didn’t know we had company.” He sent a polite but fake smile Dad’s way. “You must be Senator Riley.”
Hunter lifted a brow. Devon’s voice sounded different—gruffer—and his whole demeanor was off. What the hell?
His father eyed Devon. “And you are?”
Dev put his hand out for a shake. “Devon Crowe, Hunter’s roommate.”
Hunter watched as the two men shook hands. And Hunter wondered how his dad would react if he knew he was shaking a gay man’s hand. Or that the hand he was clasping had been wrapped around Devon’s cock a few hours ago as Hunter lay next to him doing the same thing. Hunter knew he shouldn’t, but he got perverse pleasure from knowing that.
“So I guess you didn’t hear the knocking either?” his dad asked.
Devon released himself from the handshake and shrugged. “Sorry, sir. We both were up late hitting the books, and I sleep with earplugs since Hunter snores.”
Hunter could tell his dad was evaluating Devon, but thankfully for reasons other than sexuality. He was probably wondering if they were up drinking or getting high last night. That suspicion Hunter could deal with.
“Well, I’m not going to interrupt father/son day,” Devon said. “And I need to get going anyway. But it was great to meet you.”
“You could join us,” Dad said. “It’d be nice to know who my son is sharing a room with.”
Devon’s gaze flicked over to Hunter. “Ah, sorry, can’t today. I promised my . . . girlfriend I’d take her out to lunch. And you know how women are if you cancel on them.”
Devon’s smile went saccharine, tight.
His father returned the smile. “Yes, they are a demanding species, aren’t they? Go ahead. Don’t want to get you in trouble with the lady. Maybe some other time.”
Hunter’s fingers curled into his palms. He hated that Devon had to lie, hated that he had to be anyone but himself just for his dad’s sake. And he hated himself for not standing up and putting a stop to it.
Devon gave Hunter a quick glance and then headed toward the door. His father waited until Devon left, then said, “I knew this frat house thing was a bad idea.”
Hunter’s stomach dropped, and he turned around to face his father. “What?”
His father put his hands out. “Look at this place. It’s a dump. And that kid that let me in downstairs reeked of cheap beer and God knows what else. And he’s got a name like a terrorist. How did they let someone like that in the fraternity?”
Hunter gritted his teeth. “Dad, it’s Saturday morning on a college campus. Everything smells like cheap beer. And Ahmed is Muslim and about the nicest guy you’ll ever meet.”
His father’s lips pressed together. “Goddamned California. You sound like some bleeding heart already. And was your roommate coming off a high? His eyes were bloodshot.”
“I told you we were up late. Devon doesn’t do drugs.”