Greg wiped his dick off on his boxer briefs and got himself situated. He sat on the teacher’s desk and turned on the smartboard. “The education department received a huge endowment not too long ago.”
“The education department and I have that in common,” Ethan shot out. His filter was shutting itself off more and more around Greg. He figured he couldn’t say anything more outrageous or ridiculous than what they were doing, and he realized that he didn’t care about impressing him. He was getting Greg off on a regular basis; he was already in his good graces. And Greg never seemed to mind, never seemed to judge what came out of his mouth.
Quite the opposite, he was laughing right now. His cheeks bunched up to his eyes as he shook his head at Ethan. “You are…an interesting specimen, Folly.”
“Um, okay?” Ethan didn’t know how to interpret that choice of words, but it made him feel dinged.
“Relax. It’s a compliment.”
Ethan thought it over. He’d never been called interesting, but he also had never tried to be interesting. Interesting made people stand out, not blend in.
“So I’m curious,” Ethan said, the words catching in his throat. “Why do you enjoy this? Fooling around in public.”
“You’re not having a good time yourself?”
Ethan blushed. That was not an untrue statement.
“I’m trying to shake things up. Browerton can make people rigid. This place… Well, it needs a big ol’ ‘fuck you’ from time to time.”
“You don’t like it here?”
“I do, but it still needs a ‘fuck you.’”
Ethan wasn’t sure he agreed. Compared to his hometown, where everyone seemed to have a preordained path to the suburbs and Corporate America, Browerton allowed for more freedom.
Greg glanced over at the smartboard, all shiny and unscuffed. “I’ll give you a grand tour of the place later. You think this is cool? You haven’t seen the main lecture hall.”
“How do you know so much about Carver? I thought you only had a distro here.”
Greg waited a moment before answering, and his eyes squinted into an introspective stare. He seemed to think over his answer to what Ethan thought was a straightforward question. “It’s a cool place. I gave myself the grand tour at the start of the semester.”
Ethan nodded. There were times during their rendezvous when Ethan wondered if things between them were more than sex. A strange thought had come over him two days before when they’d fooled around in a chemistry lab.
Are Greg and I friends?
They were friendly at least, but Ethan enjoyed spending time with him, and not just for the sex. He felt a unique type of comfort with him that he didn’t have with his friends. Having secrets bonded people, the yin to friendship’s yang. But right as Ethan would internally declare to himself that yes, he and Greg were friends, Greg would withhold information, putting up an invisible wall between them. Ethan would watch his eyes squint as he rejiggered his story or changed the subject altogether.
Like he did now.
And Ethan was okay with that. Because they were friendly, just not friends, and that was fine.
Ethan brushed his fingers along the smartboard as he headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Greg asked.
“I thought you were giving me the grand tour?”
“I said later.” Greg ambled up to him, so close that Ethan could smell the unique, Greg-boy scent. He scraped a finger along Ethan’s belt buckle. “We’re not finished here yet.”
Greg undid his belt, then his fly, then reached in and grabbed Ethan with his firm hand. He pushed Ethan against a poster with a cheesy inspirational slogan and jerked him off. No slobs, though. Never slobs. That was one step too far. They weren’t that friendly.
Φ
Friday night, Ethan and his friends went to an Ethiopian restaurant a few towns over. It was his first time at such a place. They sat on what seemed like oversized bongo drums around a low table, and the server brought out a serving dish of different clumps of food atop a spongy bread used for scooping. The food didn’t look appetizing; to Ethan, it looked already eaten.
“Just try it,” Jessica said. She flashed him a smile and took a bite herself. “See? I’m still alive. And it’s good! I promise!”
“I’m gonna need about a thousand moist towelettes after this,” Blake said, licking the remnants of some chicken dish off his hands.
