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Sophomore year in college
After four years of debate, it’d been no surprise Clark and I are both political science majors. He’s a big-time football god, and besides a class here and there in the past two years, I don’t see him often. My attention is focused on school and David.
David and I met in a freshmen-level math class, and we’ve been inseparable since then. I never realized I could meet the love of my life at eighteen, but David is it. He and I are from different parts of life, and though my father is disgusted by me slumming it with a kid who doesn’t come from money, my mother adores him.
“What are we doing tonight, baby?” he calls from the front door after his last class.
I know I love him more than anyone else when my body aches for him when we’re not together. I couldn’t stand being separated from him as we had been freshman year. I didn’t take no for an answer when I asked him to move in with me this year. He wasn’t happy with my apartment choice, but money isn’t an issue, but it is for him because he feels like I’m his sugar daddy.
I convinced him to accept my help, and I’ve never been happier than I am now. “Hey, handsome,” I croon as he enters the living room. I’m sprawled out on the couch, reading a book for one of my many political science classes. “I thought we’d stay in and order out.”
A look I’m all too familiar with covers his face. “I guess that’s not what you want to do?” I say.
He leans down and falls to his knees, taking my mouth. “Not exactly. When was the last time we went out for dinner on a romantic date?” he asks, and between my exhausting course load, and his, we’ve become homebodies.
“I’m game, as long as I can fuck you before we get ready,” I explain, and we’re both out of the living room, running to the bedroom we share because we’re crazy for each other.
My father’s ultimatums about David fall on deaf ears. He thinks my spouse, partner, or whatever I bring to the table—his words, not mine—need higher standing. Devin Rogers was my first. He was our closest neighbor at our cabin in the mountains. They were in a different social class, and Devin and I were summer sweethearts for three years. We fucked like rabbits, and each summer, we got reacquainted with one another. But my father always put up a stink when I’d try to visit him. He lived on the other side of Minnesota. I was always denied a weekend away with a kid with whom I explored so many of my firsts. But now Lyle Lynol doesn’t control me.
His hold on me only goes so far, not when Mom’s money made him the billionaire he is today. He may not allow me to run the company, but I find I don’t really want to.
When it comes to my mother, I don’t know why she stays with the asshole. I know he’s not faithful to her.
After David fucks me, and then I return the favor, we’re ready. Neither of us dress like college students in the typical ripped jeans and flannels. I’m in a button-down Tom Ford shirt and a pair of slacks that cost more than most people’s rent. But David has taught me that you only need a little money to look good. In a pair of pants from Target and a similar button-down in baby blue, I’d rather stay in for the night and undress him, to repeat what just happened, but I’d do anything for him.
His hands lace with my own. “Ready, baby?” he asks.
“Anything for you.” And it’s the truth. At an early age, I know David is my forever.
* * *
“It’s trivia night. Please, Xan?”he begs, pulling me toward the bar. I hate crowds, but more so, I hate college kids. They’re loud, obnoxious, and boring. It’s the same thing, especially with the bar closest to campus. Everyone has a fake ID, and no one cares because it’s the bulk of their income.
“I better get two BJs tonight, babe,” I jest after our dinner that had been so far away from campus, it had been refreshing. “And you know I’d do anything for you, baby, but I hope you know this is a hard ask.” I bring him close to my body. We’re both six feet, two inches. We’re not small men, yet he’s a gentle lover. I place a chaste kiss on his plump lips, raking my hair through his jet-black hair.
“I love you, Xan, and two BJs can be arranged, babe.” He pulls me by the hand, and I follow him into the bar. It’s already smoky, and it smells like BO. “Let me sign us up, babe, and I’ll be back.” I pull out a twenty, placing it in his hand. It’s one way to fit in with this horrendous crowd. “Get us two beers, could you?” He doesn’t take my money but brings me into a kiss, and I love this part of David.
“I can afford two beers for the both of us, babe.” He leaves, and I’m left to find a table close to the stage for the contest. David and I are a great team, and our IQs are off the charts by ourselves, but together we’re unstoppable. As much as I loathe this environment, I love winning and kicking someone’s ass.
I’m listening to some teeny bopper song and turn my attention behind me, checking on David, curious as to what is taking so long. Motherfucker, I say loud enough though the music drowns me out.
David wraps his arms around me, kissing my cheek, then takes a spot beside me, placing his arm over my shoulder and pulling me to him. “Oh, fuck.” David sees the man I hate as he walks further into the bar. Clark’s arm is draped over Jennifer Laney. Again, it’s wholesome meet wholesome, and his fucking long hippie hair drives me crazy. It’s something he’s done since attending college. He has it worn down but pulls it back with a hair tie, securing it into a man bun.
“Why does the fucker look like he rolled out of bed and hasn’t washed his hair for weeks?” David teases. Most likely, he has done just that! “Ah, we can go head-to-head with your mortal enemy.” He knows my stubborn and competitive streak, and he laughed when I spoke of our rivalry dating back to an old Red Light, Green Light game.
His hands squeeze mine. “Xander Lynol, please promise me that you’ll keep it civil with your hot arch-rival.”
He’s never held back how he admires Clark’s features. He even thinks the man-bun is sexy as fuck.
“Do not call my rival hot, David.” I never say his name, not unless I’m irritated by him, and calling Clark Farmer hot is irritating as fuck.
“Oh, babe, you’re the man I fuck at night, and you’re the only one I want, so please never feel like you have to compete for my affection because it’s always you.” I lean over the table, and he meets me halfway. “I love you and your asshole-ness. It’s one of the sexiest things about you.”
He’s forgiven. And out of the corner of my eye, I sense Clark sees me. I move my line of sight to him and give a head jut, and he does the same. It’s our silent fuck-you sort of greeting.
“Okay, who is ready for a fun night of trivia?” the bar owner calls from a mic as the music fades. “Everyone has their buzzers. We have teams of two only. If you receive outside help, you’ll be disqualified.”
In front of the host, we’re already in the farthest set of tables in a half circle. “We have ten teams. At the end of each round, two teams will be disqualified. The last team standing at the end of five rounds wins! And what are you playing for? A T-shirt of the bar that deems you the smartest on campus, until next week that is. But don’t worry, we won’t take your T-shirts back. They’re yours to keep.” The emcee thinks he’s funny, but no one laughs.
