If Ryder was pressed, he might say Spencer had the same issue as himself, the reason Ryder hadn’t fucked anything more than his fist or Ash’s hand in about six months.
When a person had everything else they wanted or needed from someone already, meaningless sex started to feel pretty fucking … meaningless.
It was possible Spencer wasn’tinlove with his two roommates, but he definitely fucking loved them more than anyone else on this dismal campus.
So, yeah. The no fucking thing made sense to Ryder.
Although, if he’d been asked a year ago, Ryder wouldn’t have bet on him and Noah’s annoying alpha roommate having anything in common. Spencer had only been background noise, and kind of irritating background noise at that. But it was impossible to spend increasing lengths of time with him and not become alittleintrigued.
And it wasn’t his pretty fucking face either. It was the strange, selfish edge to him that was somehow equally off-putting and compelling.
Spencer just wanted everything soobviously. He was never shy about letting people know and letting them know often. He wanted people around him. He wanted the full attention of his “besties” at all fucking times. Until recently, he wanted to fuck anyone and everyone and let his pure fuckboy intentions be enough to keep things kosher when itso clearly didn’t fucking work that way.
It was frustrating to watch. Like a train wreck with a nice ass. But Spencer was also so goddamn honest about it all—even when it painted him in a shitty light—that it was hard not to admire it in a way.
What would it be like to be an open book like that?
Fucking painful, probably.
Ryder and Ash watched as the angry student finally stalked away. Spencer stood there after she left, far enough away that his thoughts were for once a mystery.
And then he caught sight of Ryder and Ash and began waving to them with all the enthusiasm of a small child at day care pickup.
Ryder flipped him off. Ash did the same. Even at this distance, they could see Spencer’s beaming smile in response.
Jesus.
That was enough of that.
Ryder cleared his throat, and Ash finally turned, leading them into the building. They both needed a world history class, and they’d chosen one called, simply enough, The Ancient Greeks. Ryder suspected Ash would sleep through most of the lectures and then beg Ryder for his notes. And by “beg,” he meant demand them with threats of violence and not a single ounce of shame. And Ryder would hand them over, because what was his was Ash’s and vice versa.
Despite the Spencer distraction, they’d made it with a few minutes to spare, so they took their seats toward the back of the lecture hall and waited for class to begin.
Someone in front of them must have been eating candy or something, because the air smelled sweet. Ryder breathed it in. It wasn’t unpleasant.
Ash kept shifting in place. Back and forth, back and forth. When he couldn’t seem to settle, Ryder placed a restraining hand on Ash’s thigh. “Did you drink some of that coffee before I took it away?”
“No, I just—” Ash didn’t finish his sentence. He just squirmed some more. He was getting looks.
Ryder glared until the looks turned away.
“Quit squirming,” Ryder whispered when the instructor started lecturing. It was hard to concentrate on his notes whenAsh was sliding back and forth like he had to take a piss. And while Ryder didn’t give much of a shit about his grades, Ash got foul when he received anything less than a B.
“Someone’s wearing cologne,” Ash whispered back. “Smells good.”
“The candy smell?” Ryder asked with surprise. Ash didn’t usually have a sweet tooth.
Ash shook his head. “The woodsy smell. Like cedar but also … soil. I don’t know. It’s heavy, but it’s nice.”
Every muscle in Ryder’s body tensed.
Ryder’s pheromones had notes of cedar. When he was stressed or aroused, they grew richer, lost their dry notes and became something more like damp forest and warm, wet soil.
But the person closest to him in the world—a certain Ash Teller—had never mentioned those facts because, as someone who was unpresented, Ashcouldn’t fucking smell them.
Ryder breathed in deep. The sweet smell had grown stronger and more defined. It had notes of caramel with an edge of char. Like burned marshmallows.
Ryder leaned into Ash. He inhaled again. The sweet scent grew stronger. Ryder’s traitorous dick—not at all on board with his growing concern—thickened against his thigh.
