Date: Sun, 22 May 2011 21:40:07 -0500
From: Jonothan Wolf <jwolf24450@gmail.com>
Subject: The List Chapter 17: Chase

**Standard disclaimer applies. This is purely fiction (if based only
slightly on actual events). Don't read if you shouldn't because you're
under 18 or live in a backwards area. I appreciate any and all feedback, so
please email me at jwolf24450@gmail.com. Enjoy the chapter!

       Specimen's Name: Chase

       Height: 6'1''

       Build: Perfect

       Occupation: Student (Sophomore, Swimmer)

       Age: 19

       Dimension: 7''

       My brother came by campus the next morning, picked me up, and drove
us home. I had gotten barely any sleep and it showed. He said I looked
rough the moment I got in the car. I thought about telling him about my
fight with Spencer, but decided that what had gone down was my own private
shame. I couldn't bring myself to confess that I'd lost my boyfriend and my
best friend in one fell swoop.

       I spent the rest of my winter break walking through the motions. I
caught my good friend Cody up to speed on everything that had happened to
me this term, including the list.

       "I can't believe you've gotten yourself into such a pickle after one
semester away," he said over Corner Coffee the day before I was supposed to
leave for the city. I had told him that I was nervous about moving back in
with Spencer in 24 hours and having to deal with things the way I'd left
them.

       "It's going to be the most awkward thing when I see him tomorrow," I
replied, dreading the inevitable.

       Cody put up the awkward turtle sign-- his right hand on top of his
left, flapping his thumbs around as the `turtle' swam-- and it made me
laugh. But it didn't make me shed the anxiety I was feeling.

       My dad helped me load up my car on Sunday morning, and my mom kissed
me on the forehead. After being away for almost a month, I was heading back
to the city and right back into the lion's den.

       The pit in my stomach didn't feel that different than what it had
felt like five months ago when I was driving to SMU the first time,
consumed with thoughts about what Spencer would be like and nervous to
really get to know him. I was nervous all over again, and my thoughts were
taken up exclusively by Spencer. I didn't want our relationship to have to
change, but in my heart of hearts, I knew that it already had.

       I hauled my things up the elevator in one trip. I would have done
anything to avoid another walk across the street to the parking garage--
including risking pulling my back. To my surprise, not a lot of freshmen
were moving back in when I got to campus. I guess the majority of people
had either come in on Saturday to get a night of partying in before classes
started, or were planning on getting in on Monday or Tuesday as the first
two days of classes were almost always deemed optional.

       Realizing this, I almost felt relief. Maybe Spencer would be back
tomorrow and I'd have another day to process my anxiety. The relief was
short lived. As soon as I opened the door to my dorm room, I was greeted by
a dripping wet Spencer, toweling off and staring at me.

       "You're here," I said, kicking the door closed behind me and setting
my duffle bag down.

       "I am here," he said, with a sour twist fit for a dry martini. "I
live here."

       I tried to get a read on him as he slipped into a pair of red gym
shorts and sat down on his bed, legs stretched in front of him, turning the
pages slowly in a magazine. The tension in the room was so thick it would
have required a guillotine to cut it. I took to unpacking and tried to
ignore it.

       When I got to the bottom of my suitcase, I pulled out a gift that my
mom was adamant I take to Spencer. I had told her that the whiskey had been
from him, not in the mood to explain who Riley was, and even though I tried
to protest, she packed a small package for me to give to him. I had no idea
what she'd gotten, but I figured it was a book or one of the framed Peruna
calendars or something.

       "What is this?" he asked, as I handed it to him.

       "Something from my mom," I said. "She was going to send it, but I
told her that ya'll did Christmas in Aspen, so she told me to just bring it
to you."

       "Do you know what it is?" he asked. I didn't want to confess that I
had no clue what it was, so I just shrugged and went back to putting my
folded clothes away.

       I heard Spencer peel the paper back. "Wow."

       I turned around. He was holding a steal 8X10 picture frame. He
looked up from the frame to me and I wondered what was inside that had made
him gasp. He turned it to me and inside the frame was a picture of Spencer
and me from the first party we'd been to on campus together. He had his arm
around me and I was holding a red solo cup and smiling wide. It was the
first picture I'd tagged of myself in college and my mom must have pulled
it from Facebook and had it printed and framed.

       I was moved when I saw the picture. To think that Spencer's
friendship had come to mean so much to me in the past half a year. The
picture in the frame was a sore reminder of what I was about to lose.

       "Spence," I began to say.

       "Listen, I was out of line the other night. Not that I didn't mean
everything I said to you, because I did. But you're my friend, Cooper, and
my roommate, and I can't change either of those things, so I'm sorry I
yelled at you. And I hope that we can move forward," he said. Very mature,
I thought. My turn.

       "You really don't need to say that. I was a huge jerk to you on New
Years'. I messed up and I was an idiot to think that mine and Kyle's
relationship doesn't affect you, and he's lucky he has a pal like you to
have his back," I replied. "I know what it feels like."

       "You really had nothing to do with this picture?" he said, getting
up and scanning the room for a place to put it.

       "Nothing at all," I replied. "My mom is a sneaky one."

       "You Carpenters are a wily people," he said, smiling at me. He stood
a foot away from me and outstretched his arms. "Roomie."

       "Roomie," I replied and gave him a hug. One relationship
repaired. One to go. "What do you say to dinner tonight? Drinks on me?"

       "Actually," he said, sitting back down. "I'm having dinner with Kyle
and Dutch, so."

       "Yeah. No, of course you are," I said, trying to sound casual. His
tone was unmistakable. My presence wasn't just unwelcome, it would probably
have been met with fire and daggers.

       "We're just going to Chipotle, so. I can bring you back something,"
he said, trying to sound cordial. Just because Spencer and I had cleared
our air didn't mean that the custody battle was over. Kyle and I would have
to figure out how we were going to divide Spence between us. I got the
house. Kyle got Sunday dinner.

       "No, don't worry about it," I said. "I'll grab something on
campus. No worries."

       "You sure?" I was sure.

       One suitcase, one duffle, and one hour later, Spencer went to dinner
with his old pals, leaving me to fend for myself. When he left, it became
painfully obvious that I didn't have very many friends I could just call
and hang out with. I guess I could have called David, but it seemed awkward
to just ring him up out of the blue. I'd screwed everything up with Riley,
so that was a no. I didn't really talk to the guys on the hall that much
because I'd spent so much time with Kyle or Spencer, I hadn't bothered to
make other friends.

       Instead of staying in and moping, I went to the library and looked
up all of the books that I'd need for my second semester classes: Global
Politics, Microeconomics, College Mathematics for non-majors, The Classic
American Novel, and for good measure, Broadway Basics: American History
Through Theater.

       A good chunk of the books my classes required were held in reserve
at the library, so I wouldn't bother to purchase them unless checking them
out became a huge problem. For the rest, I walked over to the U and
rummaged for used, cheaper copies.

       "Is this going to be all?" the guy at the register asked me. I
nodded, handed him my swipe card and charged the 342 dollars worth of bucks
to my student account, grateful that I hadn't splurged on Dylan's gift like
I'd planned to. The guy handed me what felt like thirty pounds of books
with a smile, as if all of the studying I was about to embark on was
anything to smile about.

       I walked out of the U and decided to get something to eat. My first
craving was Chick-Fil-a, until I realized it was Sunday and they were
closed. I cursed their stupid rule and decided to stop at the Sonic inside
the U instead.

       I ordered a hamburger, tots, and a lemon-lime slush and sat down,
trying not to feel lame for eating alone.

       "Mind if I join?" I heard from above me. A guy was standing there
holding a tray and looking at me. I had just taken a bite of burger, so
speaking was out of the question. I mumbled something, nodded and kicked
out the chair for him. I swallowed hard and tried my best not to be
embarrassed by my stuffed face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you, I
just saw you sitting alone and thought I'd join you."

       The guy was tall and slim but not skinny, about 6' and 180
pounds. He had short dark hair and very smooth looking skin. His eyes were
brown under a pair of square framed glasses that were both studious and
trendy. He kind of reminded me of Adam Scott. Geek chic.

       "Great," I said, smiling. "I am officially an alone eating loser."

       "I take offense to that," he said. "I'm usually the one eating
alone. Every Sunday during my break from work study at the U."

       I nodded my head. That's where I'd just seen him.

       "I was just in there," I said, pointing down to my bags.

       "I know. You're the one that bought every single book for McArthur's
Politics class even though he never actually assigns the reading," he
commented. I'd just spent a hundred bucks on those books, he'd better
assign a reading, I thought.

       "You could have told me that, you know," I said. "Do you always
follow pathetic alone eaters out of the U, or what?"

       "No, no," he replied. This time he was blushing. "Purely
coincidental."

       "Sure," I grinned casually. "Well this is what eating with someone
feels like, in case you'd forgotten." I said casually. He smiled at me.

       The rest of dinner was pleasant. I found out a lot about
Sebastian. He was a sophomore Government major, work/study at the U. For
most of the week, he worked as an assistant to the buyer and planner, but
on Sundays, when things were a little bit busier, he got extra hours
stocking shelves or working the checkout line.

       He was also a dorm counselor, which surprised me. He didn't fit the
bill for dorm counselor at all. Most DC's were nerdy, skinny and
pimply. They were the kind of guys who got way too excited for team
building exercises and watching V for Vendetta on November 5th. They were
never cute.

       When I was done eating, I realized I hadn't thought about Kyle and
Spencer once since Sebastian had stopped by. I smiled at him as I said I'd
see him later and then decided to do something bold.

       "Do you have any dinner plans for next Sunday?" I asked him, holding
my U tray and ready to bolt if he rejected me. I hadn't done anything like
this sober since I'd hooked up with David a while back. I flashed him my
best smile and waited for the answer.

       "Well, um, yeah, kind of," he said. My heart sank and I thought
about the smoothest mad dash I could make for an exit. "There's a cool dude
that I met today. I'll probably be eating dinner with him, so. You should
meet him; he's great for a frosh."

       I smiled at him, said I'd see him later and left the U. As I walked
home, I thought about what had just transpired. This was why I couldn't
lock myself in with Kyle. This was the reason I was so nervous about being
with him and breaking his heart down the line. There were guys like
Sebastian out there who were bound to get in my head... and stay there
while I walked home across the quad.

       When I got to the room, Spencer was gone, but I knew he'd been
back. A bag of Chipotle chips were perched on top of our fridge and his
boots had been swapped out for his running shoes. I didn't have any work to
do and no movie sounded appealing, so I resolved to do what I'd been
dreading for two weeks now.

       In the bottom of my suitcase was a box that had a navy blue Ralph
Lauren once-worn suit, tailored to fit me like a glove, and it needed to be
returned. I wanted to go ahead and get it over with sooner rather than
later because as much as Kyle wanted to move on, I needed to as well.

       I got the box, along with a pair of sunglasses that Kyle had left in
our room once, and the toothbrush and hair comb he'd brought over after our
first full night together and put them in a sack.

       I walked across the quad, each step getting heavier and heavier. The
air was still cold, but not unbearable for a January. Still, I was sweating
under my thermal and puffer vest. When I got to his building, I hesitated
at the door. I hesitated again at the elevator and then a third time as I
rounded the corner to his hallway.

       When I finally got to his door, I thought about what a huge mistake
I was making. A week ago, Kyle had seen a naked guy walk out of my bathroom
and had been less than amused. What made me think he was ready to see me at
this point? Should I go back home and wait for him to make first contact?
The box felt like a time bomb in my hands and I just wanted to drop it and
run.

       I knocked, a boulder sized pit developing in the bottom of my
throat. I swallowed hard in an attempt to clear it. The door opened and
Mark stood there.

       "Hi, Cooper," he said, barely opening the door. I wondered if Mark
ever left their room. "Kyle isn't here."

       "Kyle isn't here?" I asked. "Okay, well, do you know where he is?"

       "Nope," he said, shaking his head. Why wasn't he opening the door?

       "Do you know when he'll back?"

       "No idea."

       "Okay, well I, um, brought this for Kyle and I really wanted to give
it back to him, so if you could tell him I stopped by," I said. Mark turned
his head and looked behind him. I could have sworn I heard a whisper before
he looked back at me.

       "Okay, I'll tell him."

       "And, Mark," I said, putting my hand up to the door. I had a feeling
Kyle was inside. "Tell Kyle he has to see me sometime."

       "Ok," Mark replied, trying to close the door.

       "And tell him I know I did a terrible thing and I just want the
chance to make things right, face-to-face."

       "Uh," Mark hesitated. "Listen, I really don't want to be in the
middle of this. I'm gonna take a walk."

       He opened the door all the way and I saw Kyle sitting on his bed,
reading a magazine. Mark pushed past me and walked down the hall towards
the study area and vending machines.

       I stepped into the room.

       "I'm not here," Kyle said, refusing to look up at me.

       "You're sitting right there, Kyle," I said.

       "No. For you, I'm not here," he replied.

       "I'm sorry," I said, unable to think of anything else. It sounded
cheap and lame and I knew it. But I was. I wasn't sorry that I'd broken up
with him, I was sorry that I'd hurt him. And no matter how many times I
said it, I would never be able to take that hurt away.

       "Where's your rent-a-date? If you really need someone to talk to,"
he said, tartly.

       I decided to just say it. Get everything off my chest and then
leave. He could do with it what he wanted after the fact, but I owed it to
him to push through, say my peace and then let him digest it.

       "Listen," I said, stepping in and shutting the door. "This isn't
easy for me. You forget that two people broke up."

       "Oh please," Kyle interrupted, looking up at me for the first
time. Statue face was back.

       "You think you're the only one in this relationship?"

       "What relationship, Coop? You made it abundantly clear that we don't
have one."

       "You forced me to do it. You said with your words, you said, that I
should end it now, sooner not later. That's what I did," I realized my
voice was faltering and that I had raised it. I didn't come here for a
shouting match, but apparently bottling everything up all break just meant
it was coming out now.

       "No one forced you to do anything, sir. You just think because
everyone is fawning over you, that because you have all of these options,
that you'll never have to face your feelings and make a decision-"

       "That's absurd, Kyle," I said. He continued shouting over me.

       "-like adults do, Cooper."

       "I was so ready to make that decision a long time ago," I said,
looking him square in the eye.

       "Gimme a break," he replied, returning to his magazine.

       "I wanted to date you, Kyle, not marry you. I can't answer an
ultimatum like that right now. I can't accept, here, this 600 dollar gift
from you right now." He took the box and shrugged his shoulders. "It's too
much. What do you want from me?"

       "You," he said, point blank. After a pause, he continued. "You owe
me nothing, Cooper. I just... I blew it the first time, I admit to that. I
blew it and I thought by quitting the Sigma thing I could make it
right. And then you shut the door, Coop. With no hope, you closed the door
and... and I wasn't ready for that."

       "Kyle, you're asking me to make a decision I'm not ready to make," I
said. "I love you, I really, really do. The best I know how. But you're
right to think that we might not work out. Somewhere down the line. I
wanted to make that journey and take that chance, but you said you couldn't
do it."

       Kyle was silent. He knew that I had made a valid point. I liked
dating Kyle. Who knew what would happen in the future? Maybe we'd make it,
maybe we wouldn't. I was willing to take the risk and find out, but that
risk was too much for him.

       "Well, I can't return that suit. It's already altered, so you may as
well keep it," he said quietly, lowering his head and turning an unread
page.

       "Kyle," I began to say.

       "Listen, Cooper, I can't do this with you right now. Take the suit,
burn it, throw it away, keep it, whatever. We're done, I'm getting
that. Give me a chance to get that, okay?"

       He looked up at me and I involuntarily felt unbelievably attracted
to him. I was making a mistake and it was as plain as day. I should have
been there to make love to the guy I loved and instead, I was driving the
final nail into the coffin that was our relationship. Without saying
anything, I turned, opened the door and left, still holding the suit I'd
intended to return.

       When I got back to my room, I faceplanted on my bed and actually
cried until I fell asleep.

       The next morning, I went to syllabus day for my first three classes,
all of which met back to back from 11 to 2. Not having planned for this,
when I got out of class at two, I was so hungry, I could feel my stomach
munching on its own lining. I bee-lined to the U, which was closer than the
dining hall, and finally fulfilled my craving for Chick-Fil-A. As I was
eating a classic chicken sandwich and reading over my syllabi, I remembered
something Sebastian had said the day before. I pulled out the course manual
for McArthur's class and noted that he hadn't mentioned any reading
assignments. I smiled.

       Sebastian, for whatever reason, was still on my mind as I walked
home for the day. It was strange to me. He wasn't the cutest guy I'd ever
seen. He was actually quite different than the obviously handsome men I'd
been attracting lately. But there was an undeniable attraction there. One I
needed to satiate. This is what a rebound felt like.

       Without thinking, I packed up the books from my Global Politics
class and walked back to the U. I figured that I should return the
merchandise if the professor wasn't going to make me use it. And in the
slim chance that Sebastian worked Mondays, I'd get the chance to see him.

       The line from the checkout counter at the student store reminded me
of the time my brother and I had tried to buy last minute tickets to a
Mavs/Spurs game. Everyone standing there was holding hundreds of dollars
worth of merchandise. I almost thought about turning around. I didn't want
to stand in this mosh pit for an hour just to see some guy that might not
even be working.

       Things moved at a surprisingly steady pace. 15 minutes and a hundred
mind-changes later, I got close enough to see the counter. Sebastian was
one of three people furiously wringing students up at the checkout.

       When it was my turn to approach the cash registers, I got the `who's
next?' nod from the person in the middle. I turned, let the person behind
me go in front, and pretended to count through my books. I fished out my
receipt and waited for Sebastian to be free, determined to make this
exchange breezy and flirty.

       "I need to return these, please," I said. I gave him my best smile.

       "I need to see your drop form," he said to me. There was no charm or
flirtation to his voice. This was strictly business.

       "Um," I stammered. "I don't have a drop form."

       "Sorry, Cooper, I can't let you return those without a drop
form. Who's next?" he called around me.

       "Wait, wait, wait," I said. This is not how this was supposed to
go. I turned and saw the girl behind me stop approaching. "What do you mean
there's nothing you can do? You're the one that said..."

       "All I said is that McArthur doesn't assign readings," he said. "I
never said you could return the books. I'm really sorry, man."

       And then, as if this wasn't humiliating enough, a very pretty girl
with long straight blonde hair walked from the right corner of the store
straight to the counter. In the past 24 hours since I'd developed the
seedlings of a crush for this guy, I felt the firm hand of rejection smack
me across the face. Twice.

       "Hey babe," the pretty girl said, kissing Sebastian on the cheek. I
watched in paralyzed disappointment. Sebastian looked at me like he was
wondering why I was still standing there? Even after he'd clearly said I
couldn't return the books.

       "Hey babe," he said. He kissed her back. "I get off in like fifteen,
so if you want to go ahead and eat, that's fine."

       "No, no," she said quickly. "I'll wait for you and we'll drive to
the srat house. I want to show you the dress I bought for the semi-formal."

       "Okay, well I gotta check these people out. I'll call you when I get
off here," he said to her. Another quick kiss. Another puncture to the
heart. He turned to me. "Were you going to buy anything, man?"

       I mumbled something under my breath, picked up my books and
left. The girl behind me in the line looked like she could have killed me
for inconveniencing her so terribly. Bite me bitch, I thought.

       As I walked home, utterly rejected, I thought to myself that of
course Sebastian had a girlfriend. And of course she was a cute, rich,
sorostitute. Why wouldn't he be dating a modelesque Theta Zeta or Kappa or
KD or wherever the bottle-blondes were pledging these days? He was a
catch. And he was caught.

       I was still obsessing over what had just happened when I got back to
the room and Spencer asked if I wanted to go to a swim team party with him
that night.

       "On a Monday? What?" I asked, lying down on my bed. I couldn't tell
Spencer about my humiliation. I wasn't sure when we'd be able to just chit
chat about guys again, but now wasn't the time.

       "We start the second half of the season tomorrow morning," he
explained. "Which means we all go dry."

       "The entire swim team isn't going to be drinking for the rest of the
season? Someone better alert the liquor store on Preston."

       "I know. And it means tonight is my last chance to drunkenly
convince Chase to hook up with me," he said.

       "I thought you were crushing on Ian?"

       "Been there done that with Ian. And to be honest, his moody-go-lucky
take on being gay is really tiresome."

       Shows how much I had missed. A month ago, Spencer was still pining
over his teammate that wouldn't let him do anything more than suck him
off. Spencer was jonesing to make out, spoon, and most importantly fuck,
but the guy was evidently too scared to go there. I agreed to go to the
party. I wanted to drown my most recent humiliation as quickly as possible.

       Then I had the thought that would consume my thoughts for the rest
of my relationship with Spencer.

       "Is Kyle coming?" I asked. It had to be said. I didn't want to put
Spencer in that awkward position of having to choose, but there wasn't room
for both of us to go. If Kyle had already RSVPed, I'd decline respectfully.

       "He said maybe," Spencer said. He added quickly: "Listen, ya'll are
going to have to see each other sometime, you know? It's gonna to be a big
party with lots of people. It won't be awkward."

       Easy for him to say, I thought. All I could think about was just how
awkward it promised to be. Kyle wasn't ready to move on at all, and I was
only barely there. Seeing each other had the potential to reignite feelings
or spark a clash that could be humiliating for all parties involved.

       I shrugged and agreed to go, anyway. I had offered an olive branch,
so what did I have to lose by going?

       Spencer and I ordered a pizza for dinner and sat in catching up. He
told me all about his trysts in Aspen. Apparently a really cute guy that
worked at a resort not far from his family's cabin was game for a few
make-out sessions. He said the guy was a great kisser, but was apprehensive
about going further. I started to wonder if it was the guys Spencer was
with that were apprehensive, or if it was my roommate who was holding out
for something more with someone special.

       Still, sex was on the brain as we ate slices of pepperoni and chased
them with Bud Light and limes.

       "It's just I like Ian," Spencer said when he'd been sufficiently
sauced. "I do. He's really cute. But the guy is so scared to peak his toe
out of the closet. As if he's going to burst into flames when he comes out,
or something."

       "So you're switching this focus to Chase?"

       "I mean, there's definitely something there with Chase, there always
has been. He flirts with me, compliments me. I dunno. I've always thought
Chase was cute; you know that. But I've just had my head so far up Ian's
ass. I'm letting it go. I'm letting Ian go. Chase is the pooh."

       "Please don't call anyone you want to have sex with `the pooh'."

       "Noted. Letting go," he added.

       He physically shook his hands off and `let Ian go.' I knew better
than to believe it was that easy. My roommate was hung up on Ian and he was
planning to use Chase as a Riley-chute to catch the fall. I wished him all
the luck in the world and proposed another whiskey shot.

       "This whiskey is amazing," Spencer remarked at some point. "Where'd
you get this?"

       "It was a Christmas gift," I said, trying not to sound sour about
the thought of Riley and his present. "Drink to your heart's content."

       By the time we hailed a cab to Backstroke, a swimming house east of
campus, Spencer and I were more than just a little tipsy. I made a mental
note to take it a little easier once I got to the party, but one look
around and that proved to be impossible.

       The swimmers who got there before us were all in their speedos and
onesies already. There were two buckets of grain that I was assured were
made with real Everclear and not cheap vodka. Floating atop each bucket
were a couple of turkey basters and people were taking turkey baster shots
like they were candy.

       The minute we walked in, the upperclassmen pulled Spencer aside and
made him strip down to his speedo. Even though I see Spencer naked on a
daily basis, I'm always completely mesmerized when his body is on
display. My roommate was hot, by any sense of the word, and standing there
shaking out his curly blonde hair, it reminded me of why I was so taken
away by him at the start of this whole thing.

       "What does a guy have to pay to get eye fucked like that?" I heard
whispered in my ear behind me. I turned around to see a tall, barely
dressed swimmer with smooth soft skin and a boyish face that contrasted his
ridiculously jacked body.

       I thought about denying my obvious staredown, but decided to just
embrace it. I'd gotten busted fair and square and if I couldn't turn this
into a flirtation, I was an idiot.

       "You caught me," I said, coyly. "But I doubt you can afford it."

       He smiled at me. "We'll see," he said, handing me one end of a
dripping turkey baster. I took it, cheered with him and sucked down the
shot. "I like your technique," he said and I smiled at him again.

       I decided the night was way too young to put all of my eggs in one
genetically gifted basket, and so I started mingling the party, meeting
swimmers of all shapes and sizes and working my way around. It was
painfully obvious that everyone at the party who was dressed in real
clothes was only there to ogle the swimmers. I felt average and paunchy by
proxy of not being undressed.

       "I feel awkward!" I shouted to a junior free swimmer over the music
right outside the dance room. He had asked me why I wasn't inside
dancing. "The girls are all over the swimmers and I'm just here."

       Truth be told, there was only a handful of guys at the party who
weren't on the swim team. I guess being around all of these guys dressed
down in glorified dental floss was the perfect rouse to keep other men
away. A normal guy didn't stand a chance at this party.

       Without warning, Stan, the junior I was talking to, lifted my shirt,
inspected my stomach and told me to follow him.

       He led me upstairs to a quiet bedroom. I wondered what exactly he
was doing until he turned around and handed me a red and white
speedo. "Here."

       I gave him a crooked smile and cocked my eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

       "You want to fit in at the party? Wear this."

       "I'm not putting on a speedo," I protested. "I'm not on the team!"

       "Listen, buddy, you have abs-olutely nothing to be ashamed of, trust
me," he said, smiling. The joke wasn't lost on me. I took the speedo,
stripped quickly and pulled it over me, all with Stan watching. "Now you
have no reason to feel awkward."

       We went back downstairs and as soon as we rounded the corner, I ran
smack-dab into Kyle and Spencer. I stopped in my tracks. Stan turned and
asked: "Are you coming?"

       "I'll be there in a second," I said. He walked into the abyss of the
dance floor and I faced this makeshift firing squad. "Hello!" I said,
trying to sound nonchalant, but just coming off a little drunk and a lot
naked.

       "You look good," Spencer said.

       "Thank you. I'm trying to fit in," I replied. My eyes were on Kyle,
waiting for him to say something.

       "Well, if anyone asks, tell them you swim the free sprints," Spencer
suggested. "Your body is built more like a sprinter." He paused, looked
around and then ducked out without saying anything else. Judas.

       "I'm gonna get a drink," Kyle said, turning around.

       "Me too," I replied quickly, joining him in step. We walked to the
bar silently and I poured a cranberry and vodka after Kyle. He added a
little sweet and sour to his and I poured a splash of Sprite into mine.

       Standing there with him, I realized that this was going to be my
life. A series of awkward encounters with Kyle, Spencer sometimes there to
buffer, but mostly he would just flake away. I had to embrace this. We
weren't getting back together, but there was no reason we couldn't be
friends.

       "Well this is kind of a meat market, no?" I asked, trying to make
conversation. Kyle just stood there fingering his drink to mix it.

       "Yeah. And what are you going for? Prized pig?" Harsh, but it could
have been worse.

       "Just trying to enjoy myself," I replied, taking a short sip. I
didn't want it to sound like I was telling him to try it, but I knew how it
sounded. "Have you seen anything you like?"

       Kyle glared at me. "I'm not the rebound type, Cooper." The words dug
deep, if only because I knew what he was referring to. First New Years, the
Beta, and now this. I knew how it looked walking downstairs with Stan, and
although nothing had happened, it wasn't worth denying it. I would just
live with my shame and guilt silently and let Kyle and Spencer think what
they wanted. As soon as he said it, Kyle's phone went off and he handed me
his drink so he could check his text.

       I shouldn't have done it, but I did. Who wouldn't? I snuck a peak at
the screen of his phone and saw the name Rusty flash at the top of the
screen. Being taller than Kyle, he didn't realize I could see clearly over
his shoulder, and so when he clicked `open' I kept my eyes peeled onto the
message.

       To Kyle: It's about time. I'll see you tonight.

       He closed his phone and put it in his pocket. He cleared his throat,
turned to me and motioned for his drink.

       "Wow," I said, tartly. "Not the rebound type, but old habits
certainly die hard, don't they?" I knew it was an incredibly twatty thing
to say, but he could have moved on with anyone. Why the hell did he have to
pick Rusty? Seriously? For good measure, as I walked away, I added, "Tell
Rusty I said hello."

       I would have given anything to see Kyle's face as I left. It was
bitchy, I know, but it felt good.

       The rest of the party quickly spiraled downward. As was my custom up
until that point, I mended my frustration with Kyle by hitting the grain
bucket and hitting it really hard. At the bucket, I met two guys from the
team I didn't bother exchanging names with.

       "Let's do dunkaroos!" one shouted when I said I wanted to get drunk
and I didn't care how. A minute later, I was face down in a bucket of ice
water, determined to outlast the guy to my right. I could hear a group of
people shouting and cheering above me. The goal was to stay in the ice
water for as long as possible and then chug a shot of whiskey. I looked at
the guy next to me out of the corner of my eye and knew I had him beat. A
second later, he shot up; everyone yelled "Dunkaroo!" and the guy took a
shot. The count continued another five seconds, and I followed suit.

       It was really weird how easily the guys on the team embraced
me. They knew I wasn't one of them, but I must have been raising their
stock by being cute and fun at the party. And I was told more than once by
pretty girls that I filled a speedo well. On more than one occasion, I
considered taking a Swim Fan up on her offer.

       "Having fun?" Spencer asked me just after 1 a.m. I beamed at him and
hugged him. He looked just as drunk as me, and there was a tall guy behind
him, lingering awkwardly. It wasn't Ian and I didn't recognize him, so I
figured Spencer was either making headway with Chase or had given up
completely and moved on to someone completely different.

       "I'm having a blast. I'm glad I came. I love spending time with you,
Spence, and I want you to know you don't have to choose," I slurred. "You
never have to choose. Ever."

       "I'm not choosing shit, bitch," he replied. He hugged me, said
something about striking out with Chase and going home. As he walked away,
I asked him where Kyle was.

       "It's none of your business, dude," he said. And he was right. It
wasn't. But knowing that didn't satiate my curiosity.

       I decided to make a last fruit loop before I called a cab and headed
back. If I couldn't find anyone to hook up with, I'd meander back to campus
and waste the night with a tepid jack off. I had plenty of visual
stimulation to guide me, though, so it wasn't a big deal. I'd be lying if I
said I wasn't looking for Stan, though.

       Instead I ran into the guy who'd caught me giving Spencer a
staredown at the beginning of the night.

       "Well, someone changed his stripes," he slurred when I sashayed next
to him. He looked me up and down, his gaze slowing just a little when he
got to my midsection.

       "I'm full of surprises, man," I replied, smiling at him. I didn't
feel bad drooling over him because he'd just drowned me in his own. I
wasn't coy about flirting this time around. It was getting late and all
this boy skin was making me horny. Plus, if Kyle could fuck Rusty, I could
fuck a stranger.

       "Really? Care to share?"

       "You'll have to see for yourself, Dr. Suess," I said, grinning at
his rhyme.

       "I will screw you in a box, I will screw you like a fox," he said
with a smile. His teeth were perfectly straight to match a classically
handsome face. It was absurd how symmetrical his entire body was. His eyes
were dark blue, almost grey, and his hair was short, brown and
curly. "Let's go to a more quiet locale."

       "Sam I am," I smiled, taking his lead.

       I followed him up the stairs to a room identical to the one Stan had
dragged me to. It was at that point in the night where flirting, dropping
hints, and making small talk weren't necessary. The party had dwindled and
only stragglers determined to hook up were still hanging around.

       As soon as we got to the bedroom, the guy closed the door, turned
around and kissed me. It was like he'd been planning it the entire walk
upstairs, and it didn't disappoint. I didn't care that I barely knew the
guy or that I didn't even know his name. I figured I could hook up with him
tonight and then ask Spencer all about him tomorrow.

	In the darkness of the room, he led me backwards to the bed,
moaning into my mouth the entire time. My hands furiously roved his body,
soaking in every concrete inch of his physique.

       He was a couple inches taller than me and his body was rock solid. I
wondered if muscle floated better than fat, but decided to focus on the
tonguing my face was getting. He was, up to that point, the best kisser I'd
ever had. His tongue was long and danced masterfully all around my
mouth. It was like he was determined to taste every single one of my taste
buds before he was done, and I was more than willing to oblige him.

       He leaned me casually onto the bed and ground our speedo clad cocks
together. I could feel his dick poking out of the top of his spandex shorts
and knew he was already spewing precum like none other. I was drunk, but it
didn't take a BAC under the legal limit to know that this guy was hot for
me and I was burning up for him.

       The more into it we got, the more passionate his kiss became. He
kissed me hard and every two or three seconds, he'd lift his whole face
away from mine and dive back in. It was almost like he was mimicking the
butterfly stroke with just his face. I found it interesting. Definitely of
note when I got his name and added him to the list.

       Before I could say `Michael Phelps', he was up on his knees,
grinning down at me and peeling off his swim suit. His seven inch loch ness
monster sprang up immediately and hit him on the stomach. I thought it was
cool, so I pulled it down and watched it spring up again.

       "You like that?" he asked, flicking his dick up and down for
me. Another dive into my face and we were grinding again. This time, I used
my free hand to slowly caress his rock hard dick. It was impossibly hard
and the feel of it in my touch was making my own dick strain inside my
lycra shorts.

       "If you keep doing that, I'm gonna spew right here," he said, coming
up for air. Seriously? I thought. I guess marathon sessions with Kyle and
Riley had spoiled me. I took my hand off his dick and brought it to his
face, his cue to move from my lips to my neck.

       Ten minutes and two hickies later, this Ian Thorpe look alike turned
me around and started nibbling the back of my neck while he pulled my
shorts down and ground into my ass.

        I bucked backwards to alert him that I was ready anytime he was. Is
body was so long and tight, feeling it on top of me was incredibly
sexy. This was the kind of rebound sex that rebound sex was made of. Kyle
could have his Sigma. I had a swimmer.

       "I'm ready for you, man," I panted, turning my head. He smiled down
at me and kissed me softly. He sprang off the bed and returned a second
later with a condom, slipped it on, and like everything else he was good
at, he dove right in.

       What this fucker lacked in actual skill and technique, he made up
for in sheer fucking speed. It was like he was competing for most pumps per
second or something, and boy was he winning. The result of his hyperactive
fucking was almost constant pressure on my prostate. I barely moved as he
jackhammered me into the mattress.

       Six minutes and what felt like 600 cock thrusts later, I felt his
little `thorpedo' expand inside of me. He took one final plunge all the way
into my ass and held himself over me for a minute. His dick pulsed stroke
after stroke of his cum into the little reservoir tip, expanding my ass
something great as it did. I wasn't quite there yet when he came, but he
was more than eager to help out when I turned around and starting stroking
myself.

       "Yeah, dude," he said in a semi-Californian surfer boy way. "Gimme
that seed." He tugged at my balls with his fingers and held his hands close
to my pelvis. I lurched up, felt my toes curl and my body tense up and a
second later, his face got the Cooper treatment.

       I sighed, lying backwards and taking deep breaths. He brought his
face up to mine and kissed me softly, letting me taste myself on his
lips. It was kind of weird, but I tried not to think about it.

       What I did think about was Kyle. Lying next to this god of a body,
running my hands over his torso as we dozed off, I couldn't get the image
of him running back to Rusty out of my mind. And I'd been made to feel
guilty for moving on. He needed to give me a break, and he needed to give
it to me now.

       "That was pretty hot," the Sexy Swimmer cooed in my ear. I was still
mindlessly fondling his abs when he broke the silence.

       "Hell yeah," I panted. He had the kind of body I wouldn't mind
revisiting.

       "I need you not to tell any of the swimmers you know that I speak
fag occasionally, cool?"

       Great, I thought. Another closet case on the swim team. What was it
with these guys? I mean, I guess subliminally, seeing the world's finest
naked bodies on a daily basis would do that to a person, but seriously?

       "Yeah, of course," I replied, analyzing his sentence. Did his
discretion imply he wasn't keen on a rinse and repeat? I was already
looking forward to a second helping before I'd even gotten the digits.

       "Say, um... what's your name?" he asked, trying not to make it sound
awkward. I'm glad he crossed that line and I didn't have to. I told
him. "Spencer's roommate, Cooper?"

       "Yeah, that's me," I said, wondering what Spencer had told his
teammates about me. The guy whose name I still didn't know let out a
chuckle.

       "Well you definitely can't tell about this, okay?" he replied. I
wondered why he was warning me about blabbing off to Spencer.

       I asked him what his name was. He was a fool if he thought I wasn't
at least going to try to get the skinny on him from my roommate. He should
have done his investigation before he slept with me.

       "Chase Pallendrino," he replied. As soon as he said it, I actually
prayed silently that there were two Chases on the swim team. As if our
relationship wasn't fragile enough, I had just hooked up with Spencer's
semester long crush.

	Damn.


**Feeling titillated? I'd like to hear about it! Like I said, I appreciate
all feedback, so please drop me a line at jwolf24450@gmail.com.