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Tad paused and eyed him. “Yeah?”
He pocketed his hands. “Think you could put in a good word for us? With Scott? You know, get us back in his good graces?”
Tad smirked a little. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Both guys smiled. “Thanks.”
“Yup.” Tad ambled to the other side of his Jeep.
“We’re gonna follow you home, bro,” Chad piped up again.
Tad stiffened at the door. They’d “followed him home” once before. From the frat party to Scott’s house, to be exact. To make sure he paid his dues for losing that poker game. His beat-up face must’ve looked amusingly disconcerted because both Chad and his friend started laughing.
“To make sure you get there okay. That’s it. We promise. You took some hits to your head, bro. Just trying to be real.”
“Yeah, G.” Chad’s sidekick gave a gesture to his bat. “Sports. We’re familiar. Shit happens.”
“Oh. Right, right,” Tad chuckled, relieved. He did sports too, after all. Or at least used to back in the day. Although, he still kind of did now… when he visited Scott at the gym. Smiling a little, he gingerly climbed into his ride. “Thanks.”
They nodded.
Tad fired up his engine, then backed out and drove away. Wouldn’t be going to Scott’s, though. Not when he looked like this. Tad peered into his sun visor’s mirror and cursed. No way could he let Scott see him like this. Not just because of pride, though—Tad felt like a chump—but because he knew if Scott found out what happened, he’d blame himself, then go on a fucking rampage. Neither of which Tad could ever allow. Yes, because violence only begot more violence, but especially because Scott didn’t deserve the guilt. Which he’d absolutely drowned himself in, blaming himself for pushing Tad to go public. But that’d been Tad’s choice to make. A choice he now realized had been poor. What had he been thinking? Clearly he hadn’t been. At all. But it was his poor choice, not Scott’s. His dumb fucking move.
So, now he needed to shield Scott from the fallout.
* * * * *
“Oh, shit. Look what time it is.” Jonah scrambled up off the grass. “Got two minutes to make it to Planetary Hall. Mr. Physics Man’s gonna have my friggin’ ass.”
Sean looked up. Forced a smile. “Run, Forrest. Run.”
Jonah threw on his backpack and grinned. “Okay, Jennay.” Then just like that, was dashing off to class. Three buildings down, but he could make it. He was fast. Used to run track back in high school.
Sean returned his gaze to the pamphlet in his hand. For the last half hour, he’d been chilling with his friend, killing time beneath a tree on one of the fields. Jonah’s nose had mostly been buried in a book, while Sean upped his knowledge of Australia. His mom had sent him some cool new brochures, and before long, he’d slipped deep into a daydream. It’d been a sweet one, too, on Cradle Mountain, as he explored Tasmania’s extraordinary diversity. Explored it and reveled in its captivating beauty... with Max walking peacefully beside him.
Sean sighed and tipped his head back, remembering the last time he’d seen him. Last Tuesday night, exactly one week ago, and man, did Sean miss him something fierce. Which was kind of ridiculous. Ever since Sean landed a spot as Max’s client, he’d always only seen him once a week. Nothing new. Nothing extreme. Just more of the same.
Except now Sean wouldn’t be seeing him at all. Not tonight, like he used to, or any other time. Their final sentiments in Sean’s car ensured that. An agreement on both sides to take a break. From the intensity. From the feelings they elicited in each other. Some down time. A chance to regroup.
Sean would study his ass off for finals. Max would wrap shit up with his classes. That, and get ready for his students’ upcoming art show. The one that’d feature, among lots of other things, countless little mini-me sculptures of Sean. Sean wondered how the statuette Max had done of him turned out. He’d never gotten to see the finished product.
Sean’s gaze slid across the field to the Art and Design building. The one where Max taught, but no, Sean wasn’t stalking him. His photography classes were in that building, too. A class he’d just come from, as a matter of fact, where he turned in his very last project. Kind of funny how he and Max had been so close all year long, but never crossed paths even once.
Sean stilled as the building’s front doors pushed opened, giving way to none other than Max and a few of his students. The first two to emerge held the double doors wide while Max and another pulled a cart into view. A big, flat transport wagon, hauling a bunch of cardboard boxes. Packed-up sculpting projects, Sean presumed as he watched them, tracking their traverse toward the road.
