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What’s even more pathetic, though, is the reality that I am still a virgin.
8
LUCIEN
His eyes are the same: big, brown, and framed by pretty, dark lashes. It’s the only part of his face that doesn’t feel completely masculine.
I’m lying on my bed, still fully dressed in the clothes I wore to the library earlier. My shoes are off, kicked to the side of the bed, but I haven’t bothered to change. I obsess over the image of Cameron blowing a kiss to the camera.
I examine the changes in his face since St. Silas. The curve of his jaw is more obvious now that he’s older. There’s a shadow of stubble. With his chin tilted, I can see the prominence of his Adam’s apple. I want to touch it, lick it, bite it. His hair curls slightly at the edges, peeking out of his hat, still messy. It’s unbelievable to me, but I’ve never touched his hair. It looks soft, and I know it smells good, but I should know the exact way his hair would slip through my stroking fingers.
Cam, you are so fucking hot.
Downstairs, the frat is in full swing. Voices shouting over each other. I don’t want to be down there. To be honest, I never want to be down there.
The door to my room bursts open without warning, slamming against the wall hard enough to make me flinch. I sit up quickly, keeping my expression neutral.
“Luc!”
My friend Alex stumbles in, his face flushed, his eyes glassy with alcohol. He’s wearing a backward snapback and a tank top that shows off arms he clearly believes are impressive. He’s holding a red Solo cup in one hand, sloshing liquid over the side as he gestures wildly.
“Dude, what the fuck are you doing up here?” he asks, his words slurring slightly. “You have to come down.”
They’re watching some crazy porn together, which they do with some regularity, that I find extremely off-putting. I sat through a public viewing once, and I promised myself I’d never do it again. I’m not even sure I could fake interest enough to be believable at this point.
“I have a math midterm on Monday,” I say evenly. “I need to study.”
Alex stares at me like I’ve just told him I’m joining a monastery.
“A math midterm?” he repeats, incredulous. “Bro, it’s Thursday night.”
“I need to study.”
“You need to live, man.”
“Alex, this shit is hard. Once you get into multivariable calculus, it doesn’t fuck around. I’m not trying to tank my GPA.”
He groans dramatically. “You’re killing my vibe.”
“I’ll be down for whatever next weekend,” I say, already herding him toward the door. I put a hand on his shoulder, channeling that easy charm he won’t be able to resist. “Go find someone else to corrupt.”
He hesitates, weighing the promise of future fun against the reality that I’m clearly not budging. Finally, he throws up his hands. “Fine. Be a nerd.”
“Yep,” I agree, already closing the door, and the sound of his voice echoes down the stairs.
“I told him!” Alex shouts to whoever’s listening. “I fucking told Luc, but he’s not coming down!”
There’s a chorus of boos and laughter.
I lock the door and lean against it for a moment… What if they’re down there right now, watching some woman get fucked on a screen, and they’re thinking about the fact that I’m up here alone and uninterested? But it doesn’t matter when I have Cameron on my phone, waiting for me.
I walk back to my bed and sit, reaching for my phone. I can’t help staring at him, replaying the moment he took the selfie. I was watching him from behind some shelves as he smiled at his phone screen. He looked so confident turning his hat around and making that cute fucking face. And honestly? It surprised me. Which doesn’t happen. I know Cameron like I know my own heartbeat.
But with Gwen, he’s different. He acts sweet. He opens up.
I zoom in on the photo, studying the shapes and lines of his face.
I’m nervous because he’s getting more intimate with Gwen, and in a fucked way, it feels like I’m losing him. I don’t know. But he shut the conversation down real fast when shit got real.
