“Well, I have a catheter.” He pointed toward his leg. “A leg bag. I presume you know how that works?”
I nodded. “Do you always wear it?”
“I can go a few hours without, but yeah, I wear it most of the time.” He watched carefully for my reaction which, other than a brief wince, wasn’t much of one. I certainly didn’t envy his position, but I understood it.
“As for the other stuff, I have a pretty good routine, but sometimes—once or twice a year—I have an accident.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, and I didn’t think it was either, but Hunter stiffened and a light blush touched his cheeks. “But that’s just life. I know how to deal with it.”
“Sure. And what about intercourse?”
Hunter chuckled. “Paraplegics can still have sex. I do, and I really enjoy it.” He curled his muscles again. “I’m strong, and other than doing it standing, I can pretty much fuck how I want. Using the chair can make things rather adventurous, too. And—because I know you’re wondering—I have my orgasm in the mind. Smelling, kissing, touching, watching a guy come undone... you have no idea how much that attracts me.”
I wrote down his answer, tracing over it with my pen.
These topics needed to be talked about more openly. It would have made a fascinating article forScribe. Could have been my end-of-semester feature, except that Quinn made it clear he didn’t like me using him or his friends as angles for my stories.
“Thank you for sharing. I didn’t know much about any of this.”
Hunter nodded and glanced toward the street, running a hand through his hair to spike it up. “Sure.”
I stared at one of my other questions and licked my dry lips before I asked it. “You’ve known Quinn a long time, right? Were you and he ever together?”
Hunter cocked his head and studied me, a whisper of a smile nudging the corner of his lips. “When did you come up withthatquestion? Never mind—no. Quinn and I were friends, he was the first guy I came out to, but we were never attracted to each other like that.”
I ticked off the question with a larger-than-usual stroke of my pen—
Tap-tap-tap.
I jerked at the tapping on my car door at the same time Hunter cracked into a smile.
“So much for our suave stalking,” he said under his breath. “He found us first.”
Mitch rested his arms on the car window sill and sent us a puzzled look. A dark yellow T-shirt clung tightly to his chest, and coppery hair glinted golden red in the sun.
“I saw you guys,” he said, a touch nervously, keeping his eyes on Hunter. “What are you doing around here?”
I deferred the question to Hunter, and pressed myself further back into the seat so they could see each other better. Probably now was a good time to think of an excuse and slip out of the car, leaving Hunter and Mitch to their serendipity.
“I was hoping to run into you,” Hunter said, “but I guess this will have to do.”
Mitch’s cheeks flushed. “Sorry?”
“Look,” Hunter said with less confidence in his voice, but with a smile on his face. “I’m just going to put this out there, and you can tell me what you think. You’re hella cute, Mitch, and I’d love to go for coffee with you sometime.”
I chose then to interrupt, because I really shouldn’t have been in the middle of this moment. “Excuse me, Mitch,” I said, opening the door and slipping out. “I have thePost-Gazetteto read. So I’m going to leave.”
“That wasn’t subtle at all!” Hunter cried out with a laugh to my back, and Mitch chuckled too.
I waved it off and trudged over the road as Mitch clambered into the front seat and shyly asked if they could do coffee right now. Hunter’s van rumbled to life, and a few moments later, they were off. I was left staring at the stretch of grass where the campus vigilante had saved me.
Chapter Six
Quinn showed up shortly past five, his hair still wet from showering. He toed off his shoes and dumped his sports bag at the front door, eyeing me with a look that made me think perhaps I wasn’t standing straight enough, that made me wonder if something was hanging out of my nose. Casually, I swiped my face and rolled my shoulders back into better posture.
Having a roommate makes all kinds of sense. I rarely used my study anyway, preferring to work on the couch or my bed, and, well... in case I did die in my apartment, someone would know about it. Someone who could scream a little louder than a cat, anyway.
I dug my hands into the pockets of mydark gray slacks and fiddled with my pen as Quinn strolled into the room toward me. The lump that rose in my throat took a few swallows to get down.
“This is the place.” I pointed toward the study Quinn had eyed the last time he was here.
