Power Plays & Straight A's Read online

  I think bottoming looks most appealing to me, especially for my first time. I want Foster to take control and not only because of my inexperience but because it seems so hot. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried though. Worried about it hurting, about not being good enough, about, well, other logistical things …

  Since realizing sex with Foster is an actual possibility, I’ve been experimenting with lube and my fingers, and it feels … weird. Good, but … not.

  Perhaps I should be upfront with him, but Foster deserves better. If I’m terrible and he has to do all the work, he’s not going to want it to happen again. It hasn’t even happened yet, but I already know once isn’t going to be enough for me.

  All Foster’s texts this week have been normal and friendly, but every time I see his name on my screen, I’m burning for more. I don’t know how he can be so cool about this.

  I laugh to myself as I head for Professor Lawrence’s office. I’m getting ahead of myself. Once will be perfect. Once is something I’ve never thought too hard about because I’ve always been so focused on other things. Focused on schoolwork and studying, and while I was living with Seth, he encouraged it. He’d bring me food when I was deep in my research, remind me to shower, and force me outside for a few minutes each day. I forgot to worry about trivial things like my virginity.

  Guilt over letting Seth take care of me hits again, and I remind myself that’s not the case anymore. Now Seth can resume being my best friend and have his own life instead of worrying about checking in on me.

  Except … how can we be best friends when I haven’t told him the biggest thing going on in my life? Won’t he feel betrayed if I lose my virginity to Foster and haven’t told him?

  I scramble to pull out my phone and call him.

  “Hey, it’s about damn time.”

  “I’m having sex with Foster,” I blurt.

  There’s a choking sound on the other end. “Right now?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Thank God. I was about to point out a little thing called boundaries. Instead, let’s talk tense. I will be having sex with Fost—argh. No. Did I really almost say that? Why are we having this conversation?”

  I laugh and fall against the wall a little down from the office. “I don’t know. I thought it would be polite to inform you.”

  “Foster beat you to it. Though why either of you think I want to know about his sex life …”

  “H-he did?”

  Seth hums. “Umm … Zach?”

  “Yes?”

  “This conversation isn’t one I ever want to have again, but I’ve gotta ask. Are you sure? Do you really want your first time to be with him?”

  “I … Yes.”

  There’s a pause. “Just … yes? No reasons?”

  “The reasons aren’t your concern.”

  He scoffs. “Real nice.”

  “What do you mean?” Is this one of those situations I’ve read wrong? Am I supposed to tell him about what I see in his brother?

  “Since when do we keep secrets from each other?”

  Is that what this is about? I scuff my shoe over the polished tile floors. “It’s not like that, it’s …” I sigh. “Maybe … we do, umm, need to talk about boundaries after all.”

  “Why?”

  I set my shoulders and draw up all the conviction I possess. Admittedly, it’s not a lot. But this is Seth. Seth who has always been there for me. Who’s supported me no matter what. “I’m not a child,” I blurt. “I know sometimes I’m a bit absentminded and forgetful and lose track of time, but I’m … I’m an adult now, and you can’t protect me from everything.”

  “I don’t want people to take advantage of you. Especially not my brother.”

  “Maybe that’s what I want though.”

  “The fuck?”

  I smile. “Do you know how nice it’s been to feel wanted? He doesn’t treat me with kid gloves or try to tone things down for me. And if he hurts me … I want that. I want to know what it’s like to have experienced that high even if it’s followed by a crushing low. Leaving you was the hardest choice I’ve ever made, but it was the right one.”

  “Leaving … me?”

  Time to come clean. “I didn’t only transfer because of Morris. That was part of it, but … I got into the master’s program and was offered a TA position at UVM. I didn’t take it.”

  He doesn’t reply.

  “Please don’t hate me.” I blink back the prickling of tears. “I relied on you too much. You’re my safe space. But you hated going out with your friends and leaving me alone, and you always saw it as your job to take care of me. It took me too long to catch on to what was happening. That’s why I transferred.”

  His laugh is bitter. “And now you’ve replaced me with my brother.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I could never replace you. I couldn’t even move out of the same town. That’s why I’m telling you this—about the transfer and Foster. No secrets. I want you to know I’m okay with making mistakes, and it’s not your job to protect me from them. Even when Foster’s interest in me fizzles out, that doesn’t change things with us.”

  “I wanna be so mad at you right now,” he mumbles.

  “You know that never works.”

  “I know.” He groans. “I want it noted anyway that I don’t think this is a good idea. But … what’s the next move?”

  I swallow thickly and look down the hall. “I think I need to have a serious talk with Professor Lawrence. If you’re not going to try to stop us, it’s the final thing holding me back.”

  “Are you going to get in trouble?”

  “Foster doesn’t think so. Yet I’m terrified anyway.”

  “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he rushes to assure me.

  “Yes, I do.” I push off the wall. “I’ve been comfortable for too long. This talk scares me, going to Foster and trying to seduce him scares me, him finding out I’m completely inexperienced scares me, but I’m going to do it all anyway because I have to believe the results will be worth it.”

  “Head’s up, the results … totally something you can keep secret.”

  I laugh. “I intend to. I didn’t tell you what happened the other night, did I?”

  He groans. “Hinting is bad enough. On that note, I’m going to go and bleach my brain and not focus on your plans to seduce my brother. Eww. But I don’t give a shit what else is going on in your life, do not wait over a week to call me again. Deal?”

  “It’s been a week?”

  Seth laughs. “Bye, Zach.”

  He hangs up, and I realize I’m about to do this. To take control and forge my own path … or something.

  I feel sick.

  Still, I force my feet to close the distance to the office, and I’m disappointed when I find it locked. Sighing, I unlock the door and make my way over to my small desk to set up and wait.

  Not wanting to lose steam, I pace the small foyer. Professor Lawrence is a few minutes late, but when he walks in, looking as kind as ever, the words jump from me without so much as a hello.

  “I’d like to report a conflict of interest, sir.”

  He eyes me. “I thought I told you to call me Jeffrey.”

  “And I assured you that wouldn’t be happening.”

  Professor Lawrence smiles and heads for the rear door into his office. “Come on, then.”

  I take the free chair across from him and wait while he gets settled. I’m not sure what he’s going to say, or if I’m in trouble, or … well, anything. What is happening here?

  He hands me a sheet of paper. “Fill that out and we’ll make a plan.”

  I blink. “That’s … it?”

  “What were you expecting?”

  “A lecture on ethics for one.”

  “Have you done something unethical, Zach?”

  “I kissed a student from your sports psychology class.”

  He tilts his head. “Which student?”

  Oh no
. Am I allowed to say? Foster suggested I go to the professor, and he said he’s not closeted on campus, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say here. “Are you a homophobe?” I ask instead.

  Professor Lawrence’s loud laugh makes me jump. “Definitely not. The student can be kept confidential outside of this room, but the conflict of interest will need a name declared.”

  “Foster Grant.”

  That seems to surprise him. “Not the name I was expecting.”

  “Who were you—”

  “Never mind. The good news is, we’re early in the semester and there hasn’t been anything that could be seen as a conflict.” He rubs a hand over his face. “I’ll need to think of some options. Switching classes maybe, or you running some lectures while I grade papers to make sure it’s consistent …”

  “I could trade departments.” Maybe get the hell away from sports psychology.

  For some reason that seems to amuse him. “Other than being a good TA, that won’t be happening.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t believe in running from things you don’t understand. The other areas would be too easy for you.”

  Completely untrue, but I’m not about to argue. Not when … not when this has finally happened. The relief is instant.

  I fill out the form but can barely concentrate for the two hours I’m assigned to the office. After that I have class, then a meeting with Professor Lawrence to discuss my thesis, and then, finally, I have no commitments other than finding Foster and telling him I’m ready.

  To have sex.

  And hope that maybe I can fool him into thinking I know what’s happening.

  His dorm building is halfway across campus from mine, and the whole walk there I’m building up my courage. I’m picturing the way he’ll open the door, maybe fresh from a shower, and I’ll walk up to him and kiss him and press him to the wall and—

  I can’t get into his dorm.

  Damn it.

  I linger there for a while to see if anyone comes by that I can sneak in behind, but apparently today is out to stall progress. Admitting defeat, I pull out my phone and call Foster.

  What time does his practice usually go until? Should I have dinner and come back?

  “Zach?” His voice comes from behind me. I hurry to end the call and turn around and oh, damn. How had I forgotten how good looking he is? “What are you doing here?”

  “I talked to Professor Lawrence.”

  “You did?” He lets the door fall closed.

  “Yes, and I had this whole scene in my head where I knocked on your door and you opened it, and I jumped on you and told you everything was sorted and we can finally do it already and—”

  “Breathe, Zach.”

  I do. “Thank you.”

  He cocks his head. “You came over to tell me you want to fuck?”

  Oh dear. I swallow. “Yes. I’m ready. I …” I trail off as I notice his hockey bag. “Are you going to practice?”

  He nods as his gaze slowly trails down my body, and I barely hold back a shiver.

  “Right, well. Rotten timing.” I force a laugh. “Maybe we can readjourn later.”

  Foster steps closer and when his fingers slide under my chin, I almost laugh at the tingles that spread over my face. He leans in. “You want me to come over after practice? Hold you close while I fuck you in your bed?”

  I’m not so sure my eyes don’t roll back at that imagery. “Yes, please.”

  He releases me and steps back again. “I want something first.”

  “Anything.”

  “I want to take you out.”

  Ah, what? “What?”

  “Yeah. I want to do something with you.”

  “This time you are talking about an actual date, right?” My voice shakes.

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t have—”

  “I know I don’t have to. Is this you saying no? Should I assume you only want me for my body?”

  My cheeks heat. “I haven’t seen your body.”

  “Yet.”

  “Sweet Jesus.”

  Foster laughs. “This weekend. I’m taking you out, then we’ll see what happens.”

  “Sex.” I swallow. “Sex will happen.”

  He laughs harder and cups his crotch. “You’re determined to make sure I’m hard all through practice, aren’t you?”

  “Will it make you think of me?”

  His eyes soften. “You’re assuming I don’t already.”

  I can’t help my smile. Can’t help being swept up in the moment and forgetting to worry about what comes next. He leaves me a ball of nerves and excitement as I realize this is another first.

  And I haven’t even begun to research dating yet.

  19

  Foster

  Zach looks absolutely adorably hot. Adorably hot is not exactly a cohesive description, but I don’t know how else to put it. He’s wearing the tightest jeans I’ve ever seen him in, his hair has some sort of product worked through it, and he’s wearing a button-down shirt that’s about a size too big.

  He stands at his door, blinking at me as if he’s forgotten how to talk.

  I lean in. “I think the word you’re looking for is hi.”

  “Umm … hi.”

  “Yay, good start.” I run my gaze over him again, and the shirt thing clicks. “Did my brother dress you?”

  His eyes widen. “No! Umm, maybe.”

  Seth appears behind him.

  Why is my family determined to interrupt my not-so-innocent thoughts of Zach?

  I bow to my brother. “Well played. Nothing is a better cockblocker than knowing my date is wearing my twin’s clothes.”

  Seth laughs.

  “I can’t wait for you to meet some girl. There is going to be payback. I don’t know how yet, but there will be.”

  Zach looks down at his shirt. “Should I change?”

  “Nope.” I grab his hand. “Hope you know how to sew, brother, because that shirt’s coming back buttonless.”

  “Okay, okay, you win. He can keep the damn shirt. Now it’s his. Just don’t hurt it.”

  I’ll defile it instead.

  I interlace my fingers with Zach’s as I lead him across campus to Greek row.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Frat party.”

  “W-what? Is that your idea of romance?”

  “Nope. It’s my idea of college.” I stop walking and tug on his hand. “College experience number I’ve-lost-count: frat party.” I smile wide.

  “Seth took me to a few parties.”

  “Frat parties? How long did you stay?”

  He stares up at me defiantly. “I’ll have you know, I lasted two drinks at one of them.”

  “Whoa. I take it all back. You’re a party animal, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep up. Have you sought counselling for your partying addiction?”

  Zach shoves me with a laugh. “Shut up.”

  I love playful Zach.

  “Are you forgetting the whole”—he points to himself—“doesn’t do well in groups thing?”

  I pull him along again. “Yes, we’re going to a party, and yes, there will be lots of people there, but you’re forgetting the most important part.”

  “Awkward conversations and small talk with people I don’t know?”

  “Funny, but no. I will be right beside you the whole time, and we’ll get to stand there and analyze everyone.”

  It’s Zach’s turn to stop walking. “H-how do you know I do that?”

  “I’ve seen you do it. You look at everyday interactions like they’re fascinating. You do it in class, and you were doing it that day in the dining hall.” I shrug. “It’s your thing.”

  He still looks unsure.

  “If you ever become uncomfortable, we can leave. I promise.”

  “Okay.”

  “And …” I wrap my arms around him and pull him against me. “You’re also forgetting a major frat party rite of passage.”
r />   “Keg stands.”

  “Nailed it.” I move closer. “Actually, I was thinking about the tradition of hooking up in an upstairs bedroom or bathroom.”

  Zach’s cheeks flame red. “I-I’m not … I’m not having sex in someone else’s house.”

  I fake shock. “Your mind is so dirty. I’m talking about making out.”

  He looks like he doesn’t believe me.

  “No sex in someone else’s house,” I say seriously.

  “Thank you.”

  We start walking again. We’re almost there now, and I can’t resist teasing him a little more.

  “Question?”

  “Mm?”

  “Is a blowjob considered sex?”

  He almost trips over his feet.

  Luckily, I catch him.

  Tonight is going to be so much fun.

  His palm is sweaty in mine as I lead him up the path toward the Kappa house. I can’t help finding that cute too.

  Maybe I have a corruption kink. Zach’s inexperience kinda does it for me, and I wonder if I should feel ashamed about that. I don’t, but I wonder if I should.

  The music is deafening even before we step into the house.

  His hand tightens on mine.

  I’m immediately approached by a million different people trying to pull me in different directions, but I tell them all I’m gonna get a drink, and I’ll catch up with them later.

  No one even acknowledges I’m with a guy. Some of the brothers in this frat are gay, so it’s not a big deal.

  We bypass the makeshift dance floor spilling into the entryway and go into the kitchen toward the array of drinks.

  “Looks like you have a choice of beer or soda. Or strong stuff if you’re really keen on the college experience.” I point to some liquor lined up along the counter.

  Zach mutters something I can’t hear over the noise of the party.

  Any excuse to get closer to him. “What?”

  “Beer is fine,” he says louder.

  We get our drinks, and I lead him down the hall to a living room with couches that have one too many bodies piled on them and where the music isn’t trying to burst our eardrums.

  I pull Zach into a corner and lean against the wall.

  He sips his drink and licks his lips, and I wonder how long I should be polite before dragging him upstairs.