This was not just wishful thinking on Matt’s part. He had exacted a promise from all participants that they would carry that secret to their graves. They had dictated their own conditions. This was his.
William’s response had been scorching. “Let’s hope, dahling, that you do a better job of keeping this secret than you did with our clubhouse.”
5:09 a.m. Matt gave up on sleep. He paced his room while reviewing his checklist for the day. Then, he slipped on a hoodie and sweatpants and went outside.
He found his Jeep in the parking lot. Popped the hood and loosened a battery cable. Lowered the hood again.
He ran a quick lap around the campus, just to burn off nervous energy. Ran another. It was either that or wank, but would probably end up being both. He was wound tight.
6:25 a.m. Back in his room, sweaty from both the run and the ensuing wank—fast, furious, focused solely on release, Matt grabbed his towel and headed to the showers.
He strolled naked down the dorm’s hallway, as was his custom, his towel flung over his shoulder, dick swinging free, probably still dripping its snot, but he didn’t care.
Matt recognized Seth heading towards him in the gloom.
“Rumspringa!” Seth high-fived him.
Matt returned the gesture, loving this transformation in his friend.
Seth glanced down at Matt’s dick, grinning wickedly. “Someone’s been burping the worm!”
Matt grinned back. No shame. They were young and somewhat hung and full of cum.
Seth’s dick, Matt noted, showed no signs of recent palpitations.
“Tell me, brother, Matt said in a somber preacher voice, “are you mortifying the flesh regularly? Beating it into submissionto the Spirit?”
“Yes, Father, I choke the chicken demon twice a week, wrangling him until he submits. And occasionally my girlfriend helps chastise my flesh. We follow the Apostle Paul’s directions and ‘greet one another with a holy kiss.’ We also ‘lay hands’ on each other as often as we can.”
“Remembering this,” Matt intoned solemnly, also quoting Paul, “that ‘whatsoever thou doest, doest it with Love!’”
“Amen!” Seth said. And they headed to the showers, laughing.
While lathering himself under the warm water, Matt thought of how wonderful the next school year would be. Colton would be gone. Adam would be back, and the two of them would be roommates. There’d be no need for wanking. They’d fuck like rabbits, and, provided they exercised caution, no one would be the wiser.
7:42 a.m. Matt, his hair still damp from the shower, stumbled into the cafeteria, seeking coffee—as if he weren’t already jangly.
It was SGA election day. Colton was unopposed in his bid for re-election as president. The big race was between Matt and Mike Huebsch for vice.
(A few weeks earlier, Colton had shocked everyone by endorsing Matt. The announcement had rattled Huebsch, sapping his confidence. He had sleepwalked through his campaign, acting as if Matt’s victory was inevitable, which it probably was, considering Huebsch had as much charm as a badger.)
The halls were plastered with posterboard signs, not just Matt’s and Huebsch’s, but all the other candidates as well. Kids were already casting ballots at the folding table/voting booth.
Matt joined Ava at a quiet corner table.
“You look like crap,” Ava remarked. She was picking blueberries out of her muffin and piling them neatly to the side. This was normal breakfast behavior for her. She loved blueberry muffins—sans the fruit itself. It was a texture thing, she said.
Matt smiled. He and Ava had long ago met their obligations in the fake boyfriend/fake girlfriend—mutual beard department—and had settled into a comfortable friendship.
He scooped up her discarded blueberries, dropped them into his coffee, where they bobbed like drowned bugs. He took a big gulp. This was normal breakfast behavior for him, too.
“I didn’t sleep well,” he said.
Ava leaned close. Her long, shiny black hair draped forward, framing her face. She rested a hand on Matt’s.
He almost jerked his hand free. They had never touched, not even a friendly hug—by mutual agreement. Neither of them had wanted to actively deceive people about the nature of their relationship.
“You don’t have to do this,” Ava whispered. “It’s not too late to call it off. The Langleys are rich and well-connected. You’re playing with fire.”
