He likes it messy. Oh god.
I climb into the truck to avoid responding, very normal and not at all panicking. The cab smells like his cologne and something minty. There's a gym bag in the back.Is that a list?
He slides into the driver's seat, catching me staring. "Oh yeah, homework." He grabs the paper and passes it over. "Figured I should come prepared this time."
I scan the list. It's handwritten in his neat block letters: SLAY, YAS, WERK, GAGGING, SNATCHED, SERVING LOOKS, READING, KIKI.
"Did you seriously make a vocabulary list?"
"You made a PowerPoint," he reminds me, pulling into traffic. "Fair's fair."
"These are just... slang terms."
"Gay slang terms, according to the internet." He glances over. "Unless Google lied to me?"
"No, these are... accurate." I study the list again. "Very TikTok gay rather than, like, elder millennial gay, but yeah."
"There are subcategories?"
"There are always subcategories."
He laughs, taking a turn I don't recognize. We're heading toward the east side of campus, where all the bars are. My stomach flips over itself, that swooping sensation like missing a step going downstairs.
"So where exactly?—"
"Nope. Surprise, remember?" He parks outside The Throwback, which is absolutely packed for a Thursday. "Hope you're okay with crowds."
"I..." The bass from inside thrums through the ground. "This is a bar."
"Yep."
"Our tutoring session is at a bar?"
"Not in the bar." He's grinning again, grabbing around behind his seat until he pulls out a hoodie, which he pulls on one-handed in a move that should not be as hot as it is. The hem of his shirt rides up, showing abs and a trail of hair disappearing into his jeans?—
Mouth. Dry. Christ.
"You good?" He's watching me with those brown eyes, and there's heat in his expression like he caught me looking. Like hewantedme to look.
No he didn't. I'm just reading into it… relax!
"Fine. Good. Let's go."
The bar is wall-to-wall people, but Gavin navigates it like he was born here. "Hey, Matt!" to someone by the pool tables. "Looking good, Sam!" to a girl at the bar. His hand finds my elbow, guiding me through the crowd, and every point of contact burns through my jacket.
"You know everyone," I shout over the music.
"Not everyone!" He leans in so I can hear him, lips practically brushing my ear. "Just most people!"
We push through to the back, past the bathrooms, to a door marked "Private Event.” Gavin produces a key from somewhere.
"Did you... Rent this?"
"Perks of knowing the owner. Thursdays aren’t usually so busy, so this is normally closed until the weekend." He opens the door to reveal... lanes? With targets at the end? And—"Are those axes?"
"Welcome to your first axe-throwing lesson!"
I stare at him. "You want me to throw axes. Sharp axes. At targets."
