“You wanna drive up together or . . .”
I shake my head. “I’ll take my own car. I’m not staying over, remember.”
Something that looks a lot like disappointment flickers over Sol’s face, but then it’s gone, replaced by his usual easy smile. “Great. I’ll text you the address.”
“Okay.”
Sol opens his mouth as though he’s going to say something, but then he looks around before grabbing my sleeve and tugging me off the path to the corner of Rosalind Hall. Shoving me against the wall beside a large fir tree, he takes my face between his hands and kisses me.
My bag drops to the floor as I wrap my arms around him, pulling us closer and letting him take whatever he wants from me. It’s been too long since I last touched him, and the way my body lights up as his mouth claims me makes me feel like an addict getting a fix. Sol Brooker makes me high, in the best way.
There’s a desperation to the kiss that has my fingers sliding up under his hoodie, teasing the firm, warm skin there. He hums against my mouth, and I wonder how much time he has before practice. Is it enough time to find somewhere more private? Laughter sounds somewhere in the distance and Sol leaps back, breathing hard, his eyes wild as he looks around for the source.
The icy chill that coats my skin has nothing to do with the cold morning air.
“See you tomorrow, Sol,” I say, picking up my bag and walking away. “Have a good practice.”
“Wes,” he calls, but I don’t stop.
There’s no sign of whoever interrupted us. They were probably nowhere near. Campus is practically deserted at this time on a Friday morning and sound travels on the crisp, winter, mountain air. It’s a good reminder, though. Sol might be ready for leveling up in the bedroom, but he’s still got a long way to go in terms of accepting this part of himself. A small, smug voice in the back of my head reminds me this exactly why I didn’t want to get involved.
It doesn’t matter. Him wanting to keep us a secret doesn’t stop us from getting each other off. It just has to stay casual. Casual like going to meet his fucking parents.
I drag a hand over my face. What the fuck have I done?
SOL
It’s a little before nine when I arrive home, and everyone is still asleep. Grimacing, I let myself in and ditch my bag downstairs, but after pacing the length of my room several times, I give up and head back upstairs.
Why the hell did I invite Wes? Okay. I know why. I want to see him. To spend time with him. But that’s not going to happen here. Sure, we can hang out, but it’s not like we’re going to be able todoanything. If he even wants to.
My skin feels too tight as I recall his stony expression after I mauled him against the wall and then all but leaped into the nearest bush when I heard someone coming. I’m not an idiot. He thinks I’m ashamed of him. I’m not. I just . . .
Flopping onto a stool at the kitchen island, I rest my head on the cool marble. I retract my earlier statement. I am an idiot. It’s a big deal, though. It’s one thing to explore your sexuality, but to declare it in the middle of campus? Besides, Wes has made it clear this can’t be more than casual, so why would I come out when we can’t even be together? I’m not going to put myself under that type of scrutiny for a hookup. The guys on the lacrosse team are great, but no-one is queer on the team as far as I know and I have no idea how they’d react if they found out I like dick. And I really fucking do. My skin heats at the thought and I groan.
“Sol!”
I lift my head as my mom walks into the kitchen, looking around like something’s missing. “Hey.”
“Why are you here so early?”
Shrugging, I slide off the stool and fold her into a hug. It’s been almost six years since I grew taller than her, but it still weirds me out that she only comes up to my chest. “Do I need a reason?”
“No,” she says, looking up at me with a frown. “Are you hungover? Were you okay to drive?”
“Jeez, Mom. I’m fine. I didn’t drink last night. I’m just . . .”
My words trail off as I realize I can’t tell her without explaining. I’m nervous. Nervous that the guy I’m ‘casually’ seeing is coming here.
“Just what?” she presses, pulling out of my hug so she can see me properly.
“Tired,” I offer weakly. “Lacrosse training started back up ready for next weekend.”
She hums as though not entirely convinced. “Where’s your laundry?”
My head falls back with a groan as I picture the overflowing gym bag next to my door. “I forgot it.” Her eyes narrow and I give her a small smile. “I guess I should start getting used to doing it by myself, anyway.”
She sighs and heads to the coffee maker. “Are you staying over or heading back later?”