That motherfucker.
I found a roll of paper towels in a cabinet, cleaned up, tugged my clothes into place, and even wiped up Tyson’s cum.
When I slipped out of the classroom, I realized I was smiling.
Next time, I’d be the one making him come his brains out.
CHAPTER SIX
Ty
I watched Braxton in our next class, wondered if he still felt as keyed up as I did. My body was jittery like I’d had too much caffeine, but there was also this lightning storm inside me, sparking mini fires every time our gazes caught.
It was hot as fuck to see him across the lecture hall, knowing what we just did. It was hot as fuck to think about what we did in general. I never thought we’d actually get together. I sure as shit hadn’t thought it would happen where it had either, or that I’d just offer to blow him in the first place.
It had given me the upper hand, even if I knew Braxton would eventually get it back. That was how we worked.
Neither of us spoke to each other when class was over. I would never tell him this—I was embarrassed to even admit it to myself—but I might have offered to get him off again if we’d spoken.
I had practice that afternoon again, and I basically killed it. I mean, I typically did, but maybe Braxton’s cum was a superfood or some shit. Coach complimented me afterward.
The electrical storm started up inside me again when I headed into Shenanigans to work that night, only when I got there, Braxton wasn’t behind the bar.
“Hey, man. What’s up?” I said as Marshall gave me a wave. He was this big-ass teddy bear of a guy everyone on campus loved, and he used those arms of his to keep us stocked with liquor.
“How’s it going, Tyson? I didn’t know you were the new lacrosse guy working here.” He pushed his glasses up his nose.
“Yep.” I looked around to make sure no one was listening. “Is Braxton here?”
Marshall frowned as if confused by my question, and he one hundred percent should be. I had zero business asking or caring if Braxton was there or not.
“I think he’s off tonight. Someone got a crush?” Marshall waggled his eyebrows playfully.
“Fuck no. Well, not me on him, but I think he’s got it bad for me.”
Marshall gave a deep belly laugh. “Yeah, okay.”
Um…he expected me to like Braxton but not the other way around? What was so wrong with liking me? I was a fucking catch.
“Don’t take it personally,” Marshall said. “Brax doesn’t like anyone. And no offense, but you don’t seem like his type. He goes for guys with a little more edge.”
Then why had I had his dick in my mouth earlier? “I’m edgy.”
Marshall laughed. Hard. I didn’t like him anymore.
I got to work, but thoughts of Braxton didn’t leave my head all night. I hadn’t ever seen him with a guy, but I hadn’t seen him with a woman either. I was pretty sure he was gay and not bi. I didn’t doubt he had sex, but I had no frame of reference to what he actually liked. He did want me, of that I was certain. That spark between us couldn’t be faked and, Jesus fucking Christ, spark? I didn’t want that with him. I didn’t.
Still, I could be curious about him, and I was. Marshall had clearly seen the kind of guys Braxton fucked, and they apparently weren’t me. My thoughts circled back to earlier today—how he’d broken into the classroom, and what he’d said about his father.
His own dad used to lock them out of the house? It made me wonder what else he’d been through.
Looked like we had asshole fathers in common.
Aaaaaand, I totally needed to get him out of my head. He’d spent entirely too long there. But…that one blowjob hadn’t been enough to sate my curiosity about Braxton Walker.
That motherfucker.
Braxton wasn’t in class the next day. I couldn’t remember him ever missing one. I was sure he had. How could he not? But it was a pretty big coincidence that he was gone the day after I’d sucked him off.
I couldn’t believe he was avoiding me. I’d never had that happen after I hooked up with someone before. Hell, it was typically the other way around. I couldn’t say it was real fun to experience it from this side.
Plus, that didn’t really seem like Braxton. Not that I knew him. It wasn’t as if the two of us were close. Still, somehow I knew I’d never seen him with a Starbucks, and that he liked to wear his leather jacket when it was cool. He didn’t smile all that often, but when he did, it was like you won a prize because you’d been able to make him do it. He knew how to pick locks. He liked cheap beer. And he liked Hershey bars, as I’d seen him eat them more than once.