Greg didn’t have an answer for him.
“Maybe we could fool around in private sometime,” Ethan said. He stopped himself from proposing his dorm room. While he did have a single, he didn’t want to risk his friends catching Greg leaving his room. Or worse, having them hear what was going on. This arrangement was meant to stay secret on all fronts.
“Now where’s the fun in that?” Greg said, and Ethan didn’t argue.
Greg sat on the desk. “I think you enjoyed yourself, Ethan. Hmm… You need a nickname.”
“Why?” Ethan spun in the chair, but ground to a halt the second that it squeaked.
“Everyone has a nickname. I don’t know half the names of the guys in my frat. Your friends never gave you a nickname?”
Ethan shook his head no.
“What about high school? What did people call you in high school?”
“Just Ethan.”Or nothing at all.But Ethan refused to get into that with him. He already hated how Greg’s face had softened with pity that he didn’t have a nickname. He was Ethan. That was enough.
Greg scratched at the light scruff under his chin. It framed the angles of his jaw perfectly, a model of facial symmetry. He clapped his hands together, and his wide grin crinkled his eyes shut. Ethan shushed him. They were still in an office they weren’t supposed to be in.
“I got it,” Greg said. “Folly. Since your last name is Follett.”
“Folly? I’d like a redo.”
“No do-overs. C’mon, it’s great.”
Ethan worked hard to resist Greg’s charm, which wasn’t that hard with a name like Folly. Folly meant foolishness, and Ethan was a hemisphere away from being foolish. Wasn’t he?
“I don’t want everyone calling me Folly.”
“Everyone won’t. Just me,” Greg said, and that did it for Ethan. He couldn’t ignore the light shiver that statement sent up his spine. Nobody had ever given him a nickname, and now it was another secret he got to share to Greg.
Folly, it is.
Greg stood up, took one of the pens on the desk, stuck it behind his ear, and walked to the door. Nobody stared at them in the hallway. Things were business as usual on the second floor of Bamberger Hall.
“Tell me you didn’t enjoy yourself just now. It was so fucking hot,” Greg said when they got outside.
Ethan nodded in agreement.
“No. I want to hear you say it.” Greg turned serious, and it reminded Ethan of that intense look on his face. “If you didn’t enjoy yourself, I want to hear it.”
He knew what they did was wrong. Legally wrong. Morally questionable. But it cracked open a part of Ethan, just a sliver. Maybe that’s where the buzz from last night came. Ethan Follett was past uncharted territory. He was off the map.
“You’re not saying anything,” Greg said.
“Because I enjoyed it,” he mumbled.
Greg clapped his hands together. “All right!”
“We can try it again.” Ethan stepped closer and bore his eyes directly into Greg’s. His rush of excitement was counteracted by a wave of terror. “But, Greg, we can’t get caught. We can’t. This is not something I do ever, and if my friends found out or my family…”
Or Preston? Ethan hoped that the more experience he got with Greg, the more relaxed he would be with Preston, relaxed enough to suavely push Blake out of the picture. Greg was just his top secret training guide.
Greg laughed off Ethan’s worry. “Relax, Folly.”
CHAPTER thirteen
Ethan had a fuckbuddy. Kind of. Technically.
