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We talk for as long as we can—which turns out to be about twenty-five minutes. He says he’ll call me right after practice.
“I can come back with your car whenever you want,” I tell him. “I can take the bus back to here after. I feel bad you don’t have your Jeep to get around in.”
“I love that you have my ride, Miller. I would also love to see you. I can take you back home almost any day but Wednesday. We have longer practice that day. And my Wednesday is more full because I have a long lab.”
“Shoot me down if this is too much. But what about tomorrow? Could you take me home tomorrow, if I come back up there say…today?”
“Fuck yeah.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “I could take you back tomorrow. If that would work?”
“It might.” I’m grinning, too.
Almost six hours later, I’m rolling into the athletic dorm parking lot, and Ezra’s smiling from the sidewalk beside it. He’s wearing royal blue running shorts, a white hoodie, and the backwards Georgia peach cap, which makes my heart squeeze.
As soon as I turn the car off, he’s opening the driver’s side door. Then I’m out, and he’s hugging me tight.
“Hey, Miller.” His low voice vibrates with affection.
“Hey, you.” I kiss his cheek. “Was that okay?” I rasp after I kiss him.
“A lot better than okay.” He kisses my temple. “I’m doing something,” he says, looking wide-eyed.
“What kind of something is it?” I laugh at his funny face.
“Is it okay if we hold hands?”
We do, and it feels so good. “Okay,” he says as we walk toward his dorm, “so I’m thinking I need to know how…people would be,” he rasps. “With us. And if they aren’t good…” He takes a deep breath before looking at me. “I’ll transfer to Auburn.”
“To Auburn?” I bug my eyes out. “Maybe we should both transfer to Oregon, bruh.”
His face twists, and he bites his lip. “Do you think so?”
“Hell, I wish I hadn’t said that. I’m not trying to fuck up your vibe. This is your career, not mine.”
“It’s not a career, Mills. Not yet. Never said I’m doing NFL for sure.”
He stops by the brick wall of the building, giving me a scrunch-browed look I can’t read. “Yeah, I guess you haven’t.”
“I might not. I don’t know yet.” Ezra rolls his eyes. “Nobody knows that, of course. Better for me if they all think I will. But anyway, I just want to be with you. And if we have to go to Oregon to do that in peace, we will.” His cheeks color. “If you want to go to Oregon.”
“I want to go anywhere you go. What’s their team? The Ducks?”
Ezra gives me a crooked smile. "Yeah. The Big Gay Ducks."
"Is that true? Are they really gay there?"
He laughs. "I don't know. But maybe. Anyway,” he squeezes my hand, “I thought it would be good to test things. Nothing crazy—I don't want to mess things up for you or anything—but see if rumors start, and if they do..." He lifts one dark brow.
"Fuck, you're brave, dude."
"No I'm not." Ezra looks almost affronted. "What am I supposed to do?"
"I guess I thought you might want us to lay low. You know...really low."
"Would you be cool with that?" He's frowning at me. Narrowing his eyes. I think of a skeptical professor and almost smile.
"Yeah, I'd do that. I'd do anything you asked me to, Ez."
His face takes on a look of vulnerability. "Is this the way it was with us?"
I bite my lip, trying to keep from smirking. "Might’ve let you do anything you wanted to me."
His face transforms to lust mode, and he grabs my hand. "Let's go upstairs."
Twelve
Josh
In his room, he fucking ravishes me. It's like an attack. But he's so good at it. His hands just seem to know where I want them. His mouth takes possession of mine, leaving me a trembling mess beneath him, pressed into his pillows.
"Jesus, I'm so fucking hard for you." Ez drops his face down to my chest, inhaling my shirt. When he looks up, his eyes are wide and strange. "What's this smell, Mills?"
"I don't know." I laugh.
"It's a soap smell." He sniffs my throat. “Some kind of…”
"I use Dial."
His face goes a little vacant. "I remember this soap. I remember...something with this soap. The smell." He puts his face against my hip, inhaling. Then he hugs my waist tight. I can feel him breathing harder. He buries his face in my jeans and wraps his arms around my waist. "Put your arm around me.”
I do, and he hugs me tighter. "I feel like we're in the grass." His voice is different—raspy. "It smells like...dirt. And there's a swing. I feel good like this. I want you."
I rub his back.
