Felix sighed and heaved himself out of bed. He didn’t bother dragging on a shirt, or even pants. Jacob had seen Felix five years old and covered in mud; he’d seen him nineteen and covered in vomit. Never mind all the times they’d changed next to each other in high-school locker rooms. He wasn’t going to be fazed by Felix in boxers.
He only paused to use the hand cream on his nightstand. He would rub his newly greased hands in Jacob’s face and ask if he was proud of him, he decided. It was childish behavior and he knew it. But when it came to touching Jacob, he would take what he could get.
Felix pulled open the door, hands at the ready. He didn’t even get it all the way open before Jacob started talking.
“I do want to change,” Jacob said in a rush. “This is the end of our second year. Ican’tbe the same guy I was in high school. I want you to drag me into your stupid shit, okay? All that dumb crap I berate you for when you tell me what happened. Well, not all of it, I’m not crazy. But some of it!”
Felix blinked, waiting for the punchline. It didn’t come. His hands hung at his sides, forgotten and tingling with aloe.
“Holy shit,” he said wonderingly. “Dude. I would behonored!”
“That’s not all,” Jacob said. He glanced around the empty hallway. His hands were deep in his pockets. He didn’t speak for so long Felix got worried again. Then he spotted something fluttering out of Jacob’s pocket, a piece of paper dislodged by Jacob’s fidgeting.
“Jacob,” Felix started.
Jacob cut him off. “So you know how I’m a virgin?”
“Uhhh.” Felix tore his gaze away from the paper on the ground next to Jacob’s feet. “Yes?”
“I want you to fix that.”
CHAPTER 2
Well, Jacob thought as Felix gaped at him.At least I finally made him speechless.
Not just speechless—Felix wasblushing. Jacob couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t seen Felix blush since they were kids. But here he was, standing in the small crack of the door he’d had time to open before Jacob started on his spiel, his cheeks flushed.
“Like…” Felix said finally. “Like… find you someone? Or… me?”
“You,” Jacob said, his face twisting as he considered the alternative. “I don’t want you to find me some stranger, man. Gross. I want… you know. You’re experienced, and I… I know you. You’d…” He trailed off, too embarrassed to continue.You’d make it nice.He sounded like a teenage girl. It took all his willpower not to take it all back and sprint off down the hall. He had class soon. And Felix would never catch up to him. Even if Jacob hadn’t run track in high school, Felix had little legs.
“Wow,” Felix said faintly. “That’s…wow.”
“Wow,” echoed a voice behind him.
Jacob looked up. There, in the small sliver of background he could see behind Felix, stood Shane Turner, staring at Jacob awkwardly.
A tidal wave of mortification washed over him. “Fuck,” Jacob said. “Shane. Hey. Didn’t think you’d be here. I’m gonna go.”
He turned and started down the hallway, cringing. What was hethinking? This was stupid. Who asked their best friend to deflower them at twenty? Felix should have laughed in his face. He was actually shocked he didn’t, this seemed exactly the sort of thing Felix would laugh at. He’d apologize later, but only after he’d finished laughing.
“Hey!” Felix called. “Jacob, wait up!”
Rushed footsteps. Felix was chasing him, just like Jacob knew he would.
Jacob ran faster.
“Oh, come on,” Felix yelled. “You know I can’t catch up, dickhead! Quit it with your long legs!”
Jacob ignored him. He barreled around the corner, almost running into a couple of freshmen who looked so hungover they were almost green.
“Sorry,” he called back as he ran out the door and into the chilly winter air. He was glad for the cold, for his pumping limbs—it was harder to think like this. It was why he took up running track in high school. He always enjoyed not being able to think. He never enjoyed being in his own head. If he just ran fast enough, maybe he could escape the embarrassment threatening to overwhelm him.
There was a moment when he arrived at class, sweating and panting, when he thought he’d done it. No more embarrassment. All he needed to do was sit in his usual seat and think about sums for the next hour, and he would have escaped it.
Then he reached into his jeans pocket for his notebook and pen and realized something crucial: he didn’t have The List.
He fumbled desperately in his pockets, pulling everything out. Phone, lip balm, mints—and no list. It was in his pocket when he left his dorm, which meant he must have dropped it when he was running around campus.
