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“I passed English Lit. Explain it to me.”
He scoffs, an incredulous laugh following, but he doesn’t seem upset when I look over. In fact, I have no idea what that look is. He’s watching me with a barely there smile as the car crawls to a stop. It makes warmth flood my cheeks, being stared at so intently. Then, he clears his throat and throws the car into park.
“Next time. When we don’t have to get sleeping beauty back there up three flights of stairs.”
He throws open the door, and whatever that moment was passes like sound carried away with the breeze. It takes us ten minutes to get Shiloh up and moving, and while he’s conscious, he isn’t exactly coherent, but this is college so no one in the common room bats an eye as we take him up.
I’ve just got the door to mine and Shiloh’s room unlocked when Blair puts a hand on my shoulder. His fingers just barely brush the skin at the base of my neck, sprouting goosebumps in their wake.
“How about you hand me a set of his clothes? I’ll wash him down in the shower. Might make it easier on him in the morning if he doesn’t feel and smell like a distillery.”
I nod and duck away to Shiloh’s dresser. Blair’s right. Shiloh will feel better after a shower anyway—it’s got nothing to do with the tingles still traveling down my spine from him touching me. Maybe there’s more alcohol in my system than I thought.
With boxers and sweatpants in hand, Blair ushers a struggling-to-stand Shiloh back down the hall, throwing me a small smile before turning away.
I shut the door with more force than I mean to, shaking out my shoulders as flickers of something warm rush under my skin. I could probably use a shower myself, but instead I just toss my shirt aside and strip out of my jeans, tossing them both in the hamper. There’s some baby wipes beside Shiloh’s computer, so I forgo the thought of hopping in when they’re done for taking a few and swiping them through my pits and junk.
My Saturday mornings usually start with a run and a workout anyway, so I can take care of it then.
As I’m winding down a few minutes later, clearing the junk off mine and Shiloh’s beds, the door creaks open and a half-dressed Shiloh comes stumbling in. I open my arms, and he immediately collapses into them rubbing his nose into my neck with a loud groan.
“Bed, Atty. Bed.”
“I’ve got you, Loh.”
He’s still pretty out of it, but at least his limbs are cooperating now. I get him tucked into his bed, and just before he passes out again, he grabs my hand and squeezes tight.
“Love you, Atty.”
I smile and bend down to kiss his forehead, soft snores already falling from his lips. “Love you, too, Loh.”
Someone clears their throat, and I jump back, but even asleep Shiloh’s grip is unforgiving. In the doorway, Blair stands sheepishly with the towel around his waist and his hair dripping down his chest.
I haven’t really seen Blair without clothes except in passing in years, and the miles of ink all over his skin is astounding. There’s thorns wrapping around his collarbones, roses sprouting on his shoulders and fallen petals descending down his pecs. Along his ribs are tree branches that wrap around to his back, but I can’t see the massive tree trunk they turn into.
Just below, spread across the space beneath his ribs and resting above his belly button is a dark red Dahlia.
“Shiloh decided I needed a shower too. You, um, maybe got something I can borrow?”
I look him over—head to toe—and I spot the hummingbird on the inside of his left wrist. Shiloh and I went with him to get that one right after he turned eighteen. He wouldn’t let us sit with him, but Shiloh chatted up the tattoo parlor’s receptionist for the entire several hour appointment.
“Um.” I shake my head, trying to rattle out the random thoughts. “Shiloh’s might be a bit tight. Mine okay?”
He nods, brushing wet strands out of his eyes. “Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks, Atlas.”
I toss him one of my sleep shirts and a pair of joggers, planning on making a joke of some kind. It dries up in my throat when he catches the clothes and the towel at his hips slips.
It’s just a patch of curly black pubes, nothing I haven’t seen in the locker room a million times. Blair has been like another older brother to me since the day they moved into our park; I’ve seen his cock any number of times throughout the years. But it’s that miniscule peek with water cascading down to the edge of the towel that makes my breath hitch.
He steps inside, closes the door, and then the towel falls completely, and I’m stuck staring at a very naked Blair with a burgeoning hard on in my pants.
I tried to get a reaction out of this thing all night—from guys to girls to anywhere else on the spectrum—and not a damn thing. But Blair Novak stripping down to his birthday suit in the middle of my dorm room is what does it?
I’m not even thinking about what I’m seeing. I’m just watching like something’s going to happen. What kind of something, I don’t know. I’m waiting for him to get dressed; that’s it. But he doesn’t move, and when I see his dick twitch and fill slightly, I snap out of my haze and thrust my gaze towards the ceiling.
I’d be frozen too if my little brother’s best friend stared at my cock for a solid thirty seconds like it was something they wanted to eat.
Fuck, that is not a thought that just went through my head.
