Greg picked up his backpack, and a textbook slipped out that left Ethan perplexed. He picked it up, but not before Ethan could read the cover.
“Fundamentals of Early Education?” Ethan chuckled to himself. Greg could barely stay focused in Con Law and yet he was studying on how to lead a class of eight-year-olds. “Greg Sanderson, elementary school teacher. Good thing it’s a blow-off class, right?”
Greg wasn’t laughing. Flickers of anger sparked in his eyes as he zipped his bag shut. “Where to today?”
Ethan’s eyes bulged. “You’re asking me?”
“Yep. It’s your turn to decide.”
“I get a turn?” Ethan stammered for an answer. “I don’t know. You’re good at picking out places.”
“And I’m sure you’re just as good. I’m not going anywhere until you decide, Folly.” Greg stayed true to his word. He sat in his chair and strummed his fingers on his backpack. They were the only ones left in the lecture hall.
“Maybe we could hang out in your room. You have a single, right?” Ethan asked.
“Double.”
“As a senior? Really? Even I have a single!”
“It’s a small frathouse.”
“Well, send your roommate away for the afternoon.” Ethan winked, but it came off as creepy uncle rather than cool.
“I don’t think he’ll budge. It’s Sahil, who you met.” Sahil’s loud greeting outside the coffeehouse bellowed in Ethan’s ears. “Yeah, he’s not the most open-minded.”
Greg didn’t need to elaborate. Ethan was not surprised.
“Well, we can go to my room.” Ethan regretted the suggestion as soon as it came out, and he secretly hoped Greg would shoot it down. He couldn’t bare the potential awkwardness of his friends—especially Preston—catching him with Greg in the dorm.
“Bedrooms are boring. They’re not us, Folly.”
“Right.” Ethan nodded. He’d gotten his answers, but he still felt a rock drop inside him. Bedrooms were for people who wanted to be alone with each other. In private. In love.That’s not us.
“So where to?” Greg asked.
Ethan didn’t want to be sullen around Greg. He didn’t want to push him away. A crazy thought came to him, and he blurted it out before second-guessing himself. “Are you a classical music fan? I have an idea.”
Φ
Ethan’s idea was backstage at Slevin Concert Hall, home to the school orchestra and ballet and smaller graduation ceremonies for the individual colleges. The lush, vibrant sounds of orchestra practice reverberated against the walls. Red velvet on the seats and a grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling greeted them. Ethan had only been here once to see a speaker, a famous alum who’d gotten bombarded with requests to act like his signature sitcom character.
Ethan led them through the ornate lobby, then way down a hall that got plainer as they went along. They reached the janitor’s closet, basically a dark hole crammed with cleaning supplies. Ethan opened the door, like he was showing him an apartment to rent, and waited for Greg to step inside.
“Meh.”
“What do you mean ‘meh’?” Ethan asked.
“It’s a janitor’s closet.” Greg swatted at spare mop heads.
“I think it works. It’s secluded. Nobody’s going to come in here.”
“Now where’s the fun in that?”
“It’s not us?”
Greg shook his head. He wandered out of the room and back into the lobby. Ethan jogged to catch up with him. He seemed to be on a mission, peeking his head around, looking for something—or someplace.
“We can’t do it in the lobby. It’s too open,” Ethan said.
