His eyes go wide behind his glasses. “How did you—I mean, what makes you think?—”
“Hey, it’s cool.” I hold up my hands. “My youngest brother, Sammy, is probably gay. He just doesn’t realize it yet. Or maybe he does and hasn’t told us. Either way, when he’s ready, we’ll be ready.”
Ryan stares at me in bewilderment. “You’re not…disgusted?”
“Why would I be disgusted? Love is love, man.”
He sets down his chopsticks, his hands shaking. “I’ve never been with anyone. Male or female. I haven’t even…” His face turns that tomato-red color again. “I’ve never been kissed.”
Holy shit.This kid is a total virgin. I’m talking, hasn’t-even-made-it-to-first-base virgin. I try to keep my expression neutral. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” I say, even though I lost my virginity sophomore year of high school to Jessalyn Kropp in the back of her dad’s minivan. “Everyone moves at their own pace.”
“What about you?” Ryan asks, clearly desperate to shift the focus. “Girlfriend?”
“I’m single at the moment. Had a few girlfriends in high school, but nothing too serious.”
We continue eating without needing to talk. I watch him struggle with his chopsticks and fight the urge to show him the proper grip. Something tells me he’s had enough of people correcting him throughout his life.
“Can I ask you something?” Ryan’s voice is barely above a whisper as we’re getting ready for bed.
“Shoot.”
“Why are you being nice to me? We just met, and you’ve already helped me unpack, bought me food, and…” He gestures vaguely between us. “This. Talking like we’re already friends.”
The question catches me off guard. WhyamI being nice? It’s not as though I’m known for my charitable nature with people outside of my family. Back home, my friends would call me a lot of things—funny, athletic, occasionally an asshole—but “nice” wouldn’t top the list.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Maybe I think we’re going to become best friends.”
He smiles—a real smile, not the polite one he’s been wearing like armor all day. “I’d like that.”
“Me too.” And weirdly, I mean it.
4
JACKSON
Present Day
Iwaddle across the dorm room, my thighs chafing against cotton that rides up places it has no business exploring. The elastic waistband digs into my hip bones while everything below feels vacuum-sealed, packaged, and ready for shipping. With each step, the fabric shifts and bunches, sending little lightning bolts of discomfort straight to my brain.
Jesus. Is this what a sausage feels like?
“Hey, Ryan?” I pause mid-waddle, one hand instinctively cupping my junk. “How the hell do you wear these things every day? I feel like my boys are in prison.”
Ryan looks up from where he’s folding his clothes with military precision. His own white briefs peek out, and he appears completely unbothered. “I’ve worn briefs since I was a child, Jackson. My father believed they were the only appropriate undergarments for a young man. I’ve never known anything different.”
“So you’re saying your junk just…adapted?”
“Precisely.” He smooths out a crease in his shirt. “Your anatomy will need time to adjust to the compression. The male genitalia is remarkably adaptable, though the initial transition period can be uncomfortable.”
I grunt and take another awkward step. “Remind me again why I can’t wear my boxers to this thing? It’s not like anyone’s going to be inspecting my underwear.”
Ryan sets down his shirt and fixes me with that patient expression he gets when he’s about to explain something obvious. “The Polar Bear Plunge involves submerging oneself in water that hovers around forty degrees Fahrenheit. Loose-fitting undergarments will provide no thermal protection whatsoever. The snug fit of briefs traps body heat close to your most vulnerable extremities.”
“My most vulnerable?—”
“Your penis, Jackson. The tightness will help prevent frostbite to your penis.”
I blink at him. “Frostbite. On my dick.”
