I dispose of the condom and grab the towel from earlier, gently cleaning us both up before turning to the mess on the sheets. Drew watches me with a strange expression, as though he’s seeing me for the first time.
“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.
“Nothing.” But he’s smiling now. “I was thinking about how you’ve been holding out on me. If I’d known you could fuck like a beast…”
“You’ll let me do it again?” The question comes out eagerly.
Drew laughs, pulling me down for a kiss. “Hope you weren’t planning on going to class tomorrow.”
“Classes are overrated,” I murmur against his lips.
We kiss lazily, coming down from the high. My body is loose and satisfied in a way it never has been before. Not just from the sex, though that was incredible, but from the knowledge that I did that. I made Drew Larney fall apart.
“We should shower,” Drew says eventually, though he makes no move to get up.
“In a minute.” I curl around him, pressing my face into his neck. “I want to stay here for a bit.”
His arm comes around me, holding me close. “Yeah, okay. We can stay.”
37
DREW
The Hockey House backyard has transformed into a homoerotic water park. A massive yellow slip-and-slide stretches from the deck all the way to the back fence, and someone—most likely Gerard—has set up pink lights that make the water shimmer. The crowd of drunk college guys cheers as Gerard climbs onto a makeshift platform at the top of the slide, completely naked except for a plastic Viking helmet with horns.
“Jesus Christ,” Jackson mutters beside me, his hand warm on my lower back. “Is this really happening?”
“Welcome to spring break at the Hockey House,” I tell him, unable to stop grinning. “Where dignity goes to die, and Gerard’s ass reigns supreme.”
From our spot on the deck, we watch a guy from the rugby team yank his shirt over his head, revealing abs that haven’t seen sunlight since October. Three hockey defensemen race to see who can get naked fastest, their farmer’s tans stark against goose-bumped skin. A Sigma Chi brother moons the crowd, his bare ass luminous under the pink lights. The speakers vibrateas “Waterloo” transitions jarringly into Poison’s “Nothin’ but a Good Time”—Gerard’s phone on shuffle, no doubt.
“Behold!” Gerard spreads his arms wide, giving everyone an eyeful. “The Nude Spring Break Slip-and-Slide Championship!”
Nathan stands near the fence, clutching a red Solo cup. His face cycles through expressions of horror, fascination, and more horror as Gerard does what appear to be warm-up lunges. Each movement makes things…jiggle.
“Ten bucks says Nathan passes out,” I whisper to Jackson.
“Twenty says he pops a boner first,” Jackson counters, and I have to kiss him because he’s perfect and mine and…God, when did I become this sappy?
“Get a room!” Elliot’s voice cuts through our moment. He’s beside us, wrapped in three of Gerard’s hoodies despite the warm night. “Or better yet, don’t. I’ve heard enough from your room to last me a lifetime.”
“Jealous?” I ask.
“Of you two?” Elliot snorts. “Please. Gerard is louder, which means I must be doing better than either of you.”
Right on cue, Gerard bellows, “First round—distance!”
He leans forward, arms pumping, thighs tensing as he builds momentum across the deck. Three, four, five strides, and his massive feet leave the ground—a split second of airborne nakedness before he belly-flops onto the yellow plastic. Water erupts in twin walls on either side of his careening body. Pink-tinted droplets catch the light, suspended for a heartbeat, before raining down on howling spectators. The Viking horns wobble but hold as he flips over, and his ass cheeks hydroplane him right off the plastic’s end, leaving a slick trail through trampled grass until the fence catches him with a hollow thunk. He raises both fists skyward. “Booyah!”
“That’s my boyfriend!” Elliot shouts, then looks mortified. “I mean—shut up.”
But he’s smiling that rare, genuine smile that transforms his whole face, and I get it. That pride mixed with secondhand embarrassment, the weird joy of watching someone you love be completely, unapologetically themselves. Even if ‘themselves’ means being naked in front of hundreds of people.
“Next up—style points!” Gerard’s already jogging back to the platform, unaware that his dick is hypnotizing half the crowd. “Show me your best moves!”
The rugby captain launches himself with a battle cry, twisting midair like a corkscrew. His rotation fails spectacularly as his shoulder catches the edge, sending him skidding face-first across the plastic, his legs flailing over his head. Next, an Omega Kappa brother yells, “Watch this!” before attempting to slide backward, ass-first. His triumphant grin vanishes the instant cold water hits his exposed testicles. Kyle stomps to the platform, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. He hurls himself down with the intensity of someone executing a linebacker tackle, his scowl never wavering even as his pale buttocks bounce against the yellow plastic.
But it’s Nathan who surprises everyone.
