Ethan thought he had a fuckbuddy. He wasn’t sure if this counted. He and Greg weren’t buddies, and a blowjob didn’t count as fucking. Friends with benefits. No, friends with an arrangement sounded classier. They could be piano players for all anyone knew. Ethan would be prepared for their next rendezvous, whenever it was. Greg called the shots. He was the arranger.
He thought about this while he waited in line for coffee. He usually got it at the student union, but he was up early with thoughts of his sexy double life on the brain. Ethan took a leisurely stroll on the lakefront to the coffee shop in mid-campus, which housed the graduate schools, a no man’s land for undergrads. There was nothing wrong with change.
“I’ll have a grande mocha java. No whipped cream. One-percent milk,” he told the barista.
“Make that two.” Greg strolled up to his side. “Thanks, Folly.”
Ethan did a double-take, looking behind him at the line he’d helped Greg cut. He faced a wall of scowls. The barista waited for his confirmation of the order.
“Make that two,” Ethan said, turning red. Greg gave him a ten-dollar bill. “You don’t have to do that.”
Greg shrugged. “Might as well buy you coffee since I already gave you the cream yesterday.”
Ethan whipped his head around, praying that nobody had heard him. His head heated up like the machine that was making their drinks.
“Relax,” Greg told him.
They waited. Ethan wasn’t sure what to say.
“So what are you doing up here?”
“Trying something new,” Ethan said. He checked his watch. “You realize it’s eight-forty in the morning. Do you have class, or are you still up from last night?”
“Funny.” Greg had on a navy blue polo and jeans, which was like a tuxedo compared to his normal outfits. “I have class.”
“You have a nine o’clock class? Which one?”
“Just a distribution requirement.”
“Around here? Does your major require you take a graduate-level course?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
The barista called out their drinks. Greg took a seat at a table, while Ethan pretended to fiddle at the condiments station. He wasn’t sure if he should sit with Greg. Despite all they’d done in private (well, private-ish), Ethan didn’t know if they were friendly enough to sit together and small talk over coffee. Rather than make things even more awkward, Ethan chose to sit outside on the grass and enjoy a last gasp of summer.
“It was nice running into you,” Ethan said. “I’m going to drink this outside.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll join you.”
“Oh. Okay.” Ethan clutched his cup, the hot liquid burning his hand.
“Is that okay?”
“Yeah,” Ethan said quickly before he made this more awkward.
Φ
Ethan listened to Greg regale him with tales of terrible classes, ones even worse than their Constitutional Law class. He was pleasantly surprised that Greg could have a conversation that didn’t start with, “So I was wasted at this party…” A warm breeze brushed through Greg’s hair as they watched boats go by on the river.
Ethan leaned forward in disbelief. “Your professor was asleep?”
“Yep. Right at his desk. Not a care in the world.” Greg cracked a smile that put the sun to shame. “The joys of tenure.”
“I guess he figured you guys were busy taking the final.”
“When I went up to hand in my exam, I slammed it on the desk. He shot up and almost fell out of his chair. There was this line of drool from his mouth to his arm.”
“Gross!” Ethan laughed. “So was there ever a class that you did enjoy?”
