But there were barely a handful of students in the computer lab this morning, and they'd all been quietly tapping away on their assignments. None of them were even sitting in the pervert corners, just to make Dylan's day that much less exciting.
Joey had been on shift too, nose buried in some book with dragons on the cover he kept telling everyone they should read. So with nothing to do and another three hours on the clock before classes, Dylan didn't see why he couldn't multi-task as well. Excuse him for trying to get ahead on his side hustle, the one that actually paid the bills.
No doubt neither the university nor Dylan's visa application agent would be happy about his ManyFanz account. And not just because,technically, Dylan wasn't supposed to have another income outside of what he made working in the lab.
Then either pay me more, or stop making rent and food and tuition and the damn textbooks so expensive. How's a guy expected to cover it all making minimum wage?
Of course, Mr. Strawberry had to go and ruin it by strutting up to complain about scheduling their MassComm assignment around his yoga lessons or whatever. Dylan hadn't actually been listening. But, like, he was so fucking important and busy, right? He’d snapped at Dylan to put his phone down and listen tohim, his voice carrying loud enough to catch Mr. Foye’s attention. Dylan’s boss had come marching over to read him the riot act about his job; automatically assuming Dylan had been ignoring a student who legitimately had business in the lab besides being a pest.
Not as if he could argue that he hadn’t been slacking off playing games on his phone though, was it? Not when what he'd really been doing could’ve gotten him into so much more trouble. He’d been stupid, but stupid lucky, too.
Still didn’t make it any easier to keep his head down, nod, and accept his official reprimand while Ashton watched on smugly the whole time. But what else could Dylan do? Heneededhis job in the lab. The pay was shit and the hours were shittier, but working for the university made Dylan eligible for in-state tuition. That, plus technically being staff, meant he could afford to take classes at the school; which meant he wasn't in violation of his visa; which meantnotgetting sent…
Back.
Feh. Why he came to this stupid party, he didn't know. His roommates were forever trying to convince him to get out and socialize more, to enjoy what they kept calling 'the university experience'. Dylan didn't have time for all that nonsense. Vincent, sure — he was social king supreme. But with so much of Alejo and Ian's hours being so wrapped up with their fútbol team, you'd expect they'd understand.
"I hate you," Ashton muttered again.
"¡Ay! the fuck you think I care?" Dylan exploded. "Not exactly thrilled to be in here with you either, asshole."
Ashton snorted. "Yeah, right."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Dylan shot back suspiciously.
"Oh come on," Ashton scoffed. "You were practically panting to be shoved in here with me. Don't think I didn't notice the way you've been checking me out in class. You've been watching me all night since I got here."
Dylan couldn't believe this guy. "Um, excuse you? You're the one who's spent the entire night staring at me like a dog drooling over a steak."
"Please. Don't try to act as if you haven't been thinking about me jumping your bones in here."
"Are you fucking kidding me?!' Dylan sputtered. "No one'sthatdesperate. Wake up, cabrón — you ain't God's gift. What makes you think I'd let you even this close if I wasn't tricked in here by that stupid game?"
"You are so full of shit, dude," Ashton finally hissed, his voice sounding strange. "I know the stories. Hell, I'veseenyou, with that big flashy pink mohawk of yours. Always too busy to work on our term project, but plenty of time to make out with half the guys hanging out on the quad, huh?"
"Not your 'duuude', asshole," Dylan fumed. "And I don't know what you think you've heard or who's been running their mouth, but you sound like a fool repeating it. A stupid, jealous fool who — "
And then it clicked.
"Oh," Dylan realized, his brain suddenly switching gears. "Oh, you're trying to bait me. Didn't peg you for the type to play coy, but… Somehow you’ve gotten it into your twisted fat head that I’d go for a narrow-minded, bigoted, fresa like you. But you want me to make the first move, don't you? Shove your pathetic ass up against the wall and show you what arealseven minutes in heaven is like, Papi?"
"No!" Ashton protested like a little kid lying about who broke a window.
Fucking hell, he did not havetimefor this shit. He knew what this was now. Just a heaping load of macho bullshit from a man who was either hilariously ignorant, or one still so deepin the closet he wasn't ready to admit it to himself, much less the world. The first was sad and kind of pathetic, but alsonot Dylan’s problem, no matter how much Ashton tried to make it one. The second — especially given how they were in an actual, literal closet? Ridiculous.
Either way, Ashton was fast identifying himself as someone in need of a good, hard, swinging dose of shut the fuck up.
"Like you could," Ashton muttered. "I'd stop you before you could even try it."
Dylan chuckled, shaking his head. "Pretty sure I just proved you can't — orwon't— stop shit. Or is that it? You gave up and let me win, hoping to get a piece of this? Wishing the villainous homo would have his wicked way with your sorry ass? Hard pass. I'm not here to seduce you, no matter how bad you want me to."
"I'mnotgay!" Ashton sputtered.
"Yeah, you'd like everyone to believe that, wouldn't you?" Dylan scoffed, feeling pretty damn entertained now. "But we know the truth, don't we,Asssss-shton?"
"Fuck you," Ashton said, his voice low and defensive.
"Oh look! You can use your words after all," Dylan cooed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall. "But again,no. I'm not interested in helping you pull your head, or anything else, out of your sorry ass. Your homophobia's just too exhausting."
