Page 14 of Frat Ghost Wingman

“That tightass?”

“What about a tight ass? Who’s gettin’ anal?”

“Go back to your fantasies, Nate. We’re talking about Cyclops from the X-Men,” Evan answered for me.

“Nerd alert!”

“Weren’t you in line at the movie theater four hours before midnight to see Spider-man: No Way Home?”

“Point taken, Evan.” His cockiness had faded before our eyes. “And you’re right, Cyclops is a total tight ass.”

He meandered down the row of lockers, leaving Evan and I alone again.

“Well whatever he is, he did it for me today.”

“I’ll say, Teo. Four goals in one game, fuck. Showing off for your parents?”

It wasn’t that I thought of the other team as the enemy, but learning their weaknesses and pretending I was a super-powered mutant with extra abilities worked for me. Sure, it probably did nothing in reality, but I had been doing it since I was a kid and I was too superstitious to stop.

Not that I’d ever admit that to anyone but Evan.

And maybe Zach.

We definitely had room at the fraternity for a fancy dinner, but it wasn’t necessarily the place we wanted parents to hang out. Of course they got a tour during the day, but the chance that they’d see something untoward increased as the sun went down.

Instead, Zach and I took our parents out to the Dog Sled Tavern, a Middleton staple. Not that we had to go far since the restaurant was on campus; the college had expanded around it.

“You were very impressive today, Mateo.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Cavallo. Just doing my part.”

“More than that I’d say,” Zach’s dad, Rocco, added. “Wouldn’t you agree, Zachary?”

“I bet that gets him on the All-American team for sure.”

As much as I liked hearing good things about myself, especially from Zach, he had a lot to be proud of too. Plus, I knew his parents didn't come to Vermont just to talk about me.

“Zach’s just started a project for his Eastern Art and Architecture professor,” I said.

My mom took the bait – she loved all kinds of art – and she chatted with Zach and his mom Bridget for a while about that. Of course my dad hooked me back to sports talk, but I had a hard time concentrating because, for the last few minutes, someone was grinding their foot against my dick through my dress pants.

My parents were my goddamn parents, so it was either one of Zach’s parents or Zach. When Bridget excused herself from the table, it was still happening, so that eliminated one suspect. There was no way it was Rocco so it had to be Zach. But what was he thinking?!

I couldn't follow the rest of the dinner conversation. I could barely eat with the amount of friction happening between my legs. Zach–my best friend, Zach–was coming on to me at a family dinner? I tried to make eye contact with him but he was in deep with his mom now, something about an old tree that fell down. The whole town was in an uproar.

Zach wanted dessert and the footjob continued on. How no one had noticed was beyond me. My face felt flush and my breathing was ragged. It was a miracle I didn't add my own white topping to the Mississippi Mud pie I barely touched.

The foot disappeared moments before we all stood up, so I had to act quickly. Spill something on myself and run to the bathroom? No. Take off my jacket and hold it in front of me? Yes.

I felt like I needed a cigarette, for fuck’s sake, and I hadn't even climaxed.

On the walk back to campus, our parents were soon wrapped up in one of my dad's stories, so Zach and I were able to talk in private twenty or so feet back from them.

"What the hell was that at dinner, Zach?"

"What?"

"What?! Your foot was all over my crotch underneath the table!" I whisper-hissed. "For almost the entire dinner."