Ethan knew he had to tread lightly. “What does that mean?”
Greg watched the flute solo for a few extra moments before answering. He squinted, his usual tell that he was about to pull back, but then he seemed to relax. “Every new member in the frat gets an older member to guide them, show them the ropes. He was my big brother in the frat, so we were close, and I kind of always suspected something, even though he had a girlfriend. He seemed a little too chummy at times, especially when he was drunk, and I always wondered if he suspected something about me. But still, he was my big brother, and we were close.
“Anyway, our frat threw this huge blowout bash at the end of my freshman year. We were all drunk. He helped me to my room, and he was being kinda handsy. Extra-helpful, if you will.” Ethan looked for his smirk, but it wasn’t there, no trace of it. Greg kept his body very still with his hands on his knees. “And I liked it. It was hot, ya know? So I began being handsy back. And one thing led to another and we were sucking each other off. Right there on my bed. I think we knew what was going on, but we didn’t, too, if that makes sense.”
“Plausible deniability.”
Greg nodded. “He went back to his room when it was over. The next morning, neither of us brought it up. I was waiting for him to say something, since he was the big brother, but he never did.”
“He didn’t even acknowledge it?”
Greg shook his head. “I tried talking to him about it briefly, just to say that I would never mention it to the guys or his girlfriend. He grabbed my shirt and slammed me against the wall. His eyes… They were so dark. He said, ‘Shut the fuck up, Sandman.’ And that was that. I’ll never forget that look.”
“The Bro Code?”
“Something like that.”
“Is he still with that same girl?”
Greg exhaled a deep breath. “They got married last summer.”
“That must’ve been an awkward wedding.”
“I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t invited.” Greg wiped his hand off on his pants. And that was that. He stood up and was back to his jocular self.
Ethan stood as well and kept looking at him, at his whole eyes and twitching lips. He wanted to kiss Greg in that moment. They had never kissed before, and he wanted to feel those lips on his. He wanted to feel Greg’s arms roped around him. Ethan leaned in slightly, almost wondering if he might reciprocate.
Greg walked to the entrance.
“See you on Thursday, Folly. Enjoy the concert.” He closed the curtain behind him.
He’s just a guy you fool around with, Ethan. Nothing more.
CHAPTER eighteen
Ethan didn’t hook up with Greg for the rest of the week and he felt grateful to have two eight-page papers due on Friday. Usually, Ethan was not a procrastinator, but his mind had been elsewhere lately. He tried sitting down to write paper number one on Tuesday night, but he didn’t see a blank screen. He kept seeing Greg’s eyes, looking at him, then looking away. No kiss. No nothing. Just super-secret public sex.
Forcing himself to get those papers finished was a blessing in disguise. It gave his head a break.
He woke up early on Saturday, rustled awake by the stomping of sneakers down the hall. Patches of lime green strolled past him. Kids were dressed in Browerton garb head to toe. “Go Whitetails!” was painted onto a girl’s cheek.
Game day.
His dormmates rumbled through the halls in high spirits. The only reason college students got up before eight in the morning was for class or drinking. Mostly for drinking. He could smell the sour stench of beer wafting from someone’s room.
“GO WHITETAILS!” a dormmate shouted at Ethan, almost as an indictment against him missing the game.
He watched them go by. They were pumped, filled to the brim with energy. Cliques mashing with cliques, being normal, all-American, fun-loving college students. They felt a world away from Ethan.
“Hey!” Lorna had on a green football jersey and green Mardi Gras beads and a green streak was clipped into her wavy hair. “I was just coming to get you,” she said. “For the game.”
Ethan’s face scrunched into a ball of confusion. “I don’t have a ticket.”
“Neither do I. They’re seriously overpriced. But my sorority is having a tailgate in the parking lot. Did you want to come?”
He had a vision of a drunken mosh pit. When you mixed rowdy football fans and copious amounts of alcohol, it equaled a place Ethan excelled at avoiding.
“Isn’t that just for your sorority? I mean, do they allow boys?”
