Date: Mon, 2 May 2011 22:25:24 -0500
From: Jonothan Wolf <jwolf24450@gmail.com>
Subject: The List Chapter 16: Patrick

**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 story!

       Chapter 16: Patrick

       Specimen's Name: Patrick

       Weight: 5'8

       Build: 155 (Slender)

       Occupation: Student (Unknown/Undeclared)

       Age: Unknown

       Dimension: 6.5''

       I woke up, with a headache, to the sound of chatter from across the
room. I opened my eyes to see that the sun was coming up and Bryan was
sitting in a chair in the corner and talking in a low whisper.

       "Everything was great, babe," I heard him say. I kept my eyes closed
while listening to the conversation. "Yeah, the presentation was worth the
trip, the speaker was amazing. My boss was thrilled with how our group did
in the simulation, it was great. Yeah, we have a closing session and
breakfast in an hour and then we head out. Ok, I'll see you tonight. I'll
call you when we board the plane. Kiss Haley for me before she gets on the
bus. I love you too."

       The whole thing was just unbelievably bizarre. Who was this guy
talking to? Who was this little Haley who was riding the bus? How was I
going to get out of here gracefully?

       Bryan hung up the phone and walked over to me. He shook me a little
bit and said, "Hey, buddy, you've got to get up."

       I played up my grogginess a little bit to pretend like I hadn't been
listening in on his conversation. I opened my eyes and saw that Bryan was
standing in nothing but a pair of damp shorts right in front of me. He
looked even sexier in the morning than he'd felt last night. Still, the
sight of ripped abs and nice pecks didn't make me feel any less like a
hooker with a heart of gold.

       "What time is it?" I asked, pretending to focus my gaze but actually
just looking at his physique.

       "It's eight," he said. "I thought you'd be awake after my run, but
you sleep like a brick."

       "Did I snore?" I asked. Sometimes Spencer would get on to me for
snoring, but I'd never heard or felt it happen.

       "No," he smiled. "Not that I heard. Listen, I have a meeting to be
at in an hour and I was gonna hop in the shower and get dressed. It was
nice to meet you, but I think you should go now."

       "Yeah," I said, sitting up. I stretched and yawned. "Let me just pee
first, and I'm out of your hair."

       I walked to the bathroom and took a leak, picking up my pants and
shirt along the way. I came out dressed and ready to go.

       "Mind if I text my brother before I go wandering around this hotel?"
I asked.

       "Take your time," he said. "I'm gonna hop in the shower. Good to
meet you." Part of me had hoped he was going to ask me to join him for a
quickie in the shower. Real ladies of the night don't stay for seconds the
next morning, so in a way, me jonesing for another feel of his body was me
actually upping my class quotient.

       The shower started. I texted Dylan that I was awake and needed to
meet him stat. As I waited for his reply, I looked around at all of the
stuff I'd missed last night. There was a folder that had `Be the Perfect
Salesman' written on it. Great. I'd slept with Joe Schmuck. I opened the
folder and read the first page.

       `You are the product! How to sell you before you sell your
merchandise!' There were way too many bullets and exclamation marks for me
to bother reading on. As I was scanning down the page, stopping to check
out the four FUJI's of effective sales, my phone vibrated.

       From Dylan: Let's go.

       I assumed he was heading to the car, so I picked up my jacket and
was about to leave when I saw Bryan's wallet on the table. I thought about
passing it by, but I honestly couldn't. The curiosity of what was inside
got the best of me. I opened it.

       Forty bucks in cash and a couple of bank cards. No big deal and no
indication of what kind of guy he was. His driver's license revealed that
his name was, in fact, Bryan, and that he lived in New Mexico. I flipped to
the folded part and pulled out a piece of paper with an address and a phone
number on it. At the top of the scrap sheet of paper was the name
Bobby. Classy, I thought.

       And then I saw the wedding ring. Tucked into the fold was a gold
band that he'd probably leave off until he landed in Albuquerque and met
his unsuspecting wife at the baggage claim turnstile. In the same fold,
there was a picture of a woman holding a small child. The lady in the
picture was gorgeous. She had blue eyes that looked right at the camera and
soft blonde hair. And the kid was the spitting image of Bryan, down to the
hazel eyes.

       Not wanting to get caught snooping, I folded the wallet, put it down
and left. As I rode the elevator down the eight flights of stairs, I
thought about how ridiculous it was that this guy was living a crazy double
life. He had a wife and child at home with boys on the side.

       Part of me wanted to feel bad for his wife, but I wasn't the one who
had cheated on her. And then part of me wanted to feel bad for Bryan. He
was forced into sneaking around with dudes on the side, lying to himself
about who he was while never developing any real relationships. I told
myself I would never live that way. If getting married meant weekend
hookups in strange cities while my wife nursed our newborn child, I wasn't
on board— I'd rather opt out altogether. There had to be a better
business model.

       When I got to the car, I noticed immediately that Dylan looked ten
times rougher than I did. Last night had kicked his ass, and from the look
of the hickie on his neck, so had that girl.

       "You can't see it, can you?" he asked.

       "If by it, you mean the California sized love bite on your neck, the
answer is no. Can't see it."

       "I just want it to clear before the New Year's Bash tomorrow," he
said. "Downtown Dallas, bottle service, I got us the hookup. You're coming
with me."

       "I'm not going with you," I said. "One night out with you was enough
craziness for me."

       "Not buying it," he said, sounding just like Spencer when he was
trying to convince to go out with him. "This is going to be epic, I swear
to you. And you're a really good wingman."

       "I did nothing to help you," I replied.

       "On the contrary. You were you. And by being you, you took two
eligible bachelors off the market."

       He had a point. I had tipped the ratio in his favor, even if just a
little bit. I shrugged off the invitation. I knew I'd probably end up going
and that I'd probably end up having fun, but I resolved that I wasn't going
to hook up with any old random stranger in a dingy motel again. I didn't
like how low I felt this morning. This was definitely going into the list
with a red pen.

       "You want to get married, right, Dyl?" I asked, out of
nowhere. Thinking about the hookup and Bryan's life had gotten me wondering
about marriage.

       "Um, I mean, sure," Dylan replied. "Eventually, at some
point. You're not crying over this Kyle again, are you?"

       "No," I said. "No, not at all. I just, for the first time this
morning I thought that I might not ever get to get married. I mean,
assuming I meet and fall in love with a guy. It just doesn't seem like
marriage is in the cards, even if we love each other. Not like it does if
you meet and fall for a girl, you know? And what are the chances two guys
ever get to get married?"

       I remember my brother's response as if he'd said it, recorded it,
and played it back to me a thousand times. "Marriage is a word, killer. And
regardless of the pomp and circumstances surrounding it, it's simply a word
that means one thing: commitment. You don't need a judge or a church to
tell you that; got it?"

       "Yeah, I got it," I said. A commitment. That's all that it was. So
far, I had a terrible track record with commitment. In one week, I'd run
away from mine and helped a complete stranger break his. I might be ready
for whatever my brother was talking about at some point, but this wasn't
that point.

       I wasn't going to admit it to Dylan, but going out with him had
substantially improved my mood. Despite my colossal mistake, I had a great
time. And sleeping with Bryan had taught me that other people have more
complicated drama than splitting up with a first love.

       In a roundabout way, however, I felt bad for feeling better. I was
sure Kyle wasn't feeling better just six days later. It felt disrespectful
to be moving on when I knew that he was still most likely crushed. I was
looking forward to a time that he wouldn't consume my thoughts, but I
didn't see that happening in the near future.

       As soon as I got home, I hopped in the shower, hoping to wash the
smell of Bryan off of me and climbed back into bed. I woke up a few hours
later to the smell of pancakes and decided to go down and see what my mom
was whipping up. Before I put pants on and went down the stairs, I decided
to check my Facebook to see what everyone at school was up to.

       I clicked through, reading a bunch of people's statuses and recent
comments. Everyone had added new holiday picture albums to their wall, so
it was fun flipping through those. Eventually, I stopped fighting the urge
to check in on Kyle and I typed his name in the search bar. Because he was
one of my most frequent searches, his name popped up immediately, but
instead of going straight to his profile, Facebook redirected me to the
search page.

       Next to the name Kyle Montgomery Wriggs was a blue "Add Kyle as a
Friend" button. Kyle had actually defriended me on Facebook. At first I
felt really bad. What a huge mess I'd created for myself. What a big
whopping mistake I'd made. Defriending someone on Facebook was the ultimate
diss and here I was staring at my ex-boyfriend's page, unable to get in to
it.

       I searched for Spencer's Facebook page to see if I could somehow
juge my way around Kyle's block to at least check out his status, but when
I clicked on Spencer's name, I got the same search page. At that point, my
sadness morphed into anger. This was actually unfair. Where did Spencer get
off acting like a two year old towards me? What did he think was going to
happen if Kyle and I broke up? This was childishness at its finest and it
infuriated me.

       Unable to get the annoyance out of my mind, I went downstairs to get
food. Dylan was telling my mom about our New Year's Eve plans over pancakes
and she was giving Dylan a scolding eye.

       "I want you looking out for your brother, not getting him drunk
every night."

       "Okay," he said. "I will look out for him. Promise." He kissed her
on the cheek, grabbed his plate and went to the den.

       I had no desire to sit and talk to my mom, mostly because I didn't
want to hear her ask me what was wrong, so I wordlessly made a plate and
went to eat it in my room.

       I hid out all day, watching all the Tivo'd Jeopardy episodes that
had stacked up while I was at school, still bothered by being defriended
and wondering exactly how I was going to go back to living with Spencer
when school started next week. It just felt so juvenile the way he was
treating me, first over the phone and now over the net. I thought about
calling him and telling him and his little friend that they could both grow
up and S my D.

       Instead, I had to celebrate a brand new year. For me, January 1
never felt like a new year. I always associated the new year with the first
day of school, because as long as I could remember, that was the natural
marker of a new start. But here I was, stuck in the middle of a rock and a
new start.

       Thankfully, I had Dylan to cheer me up. We spent the evening
drinking my whiskey with my dad, who was impressed that I had a friend at
school with such a sophisticated palate in Irish spirits. Of course, Dylan
and I didn't tell him why we were hitting the expensive sauce, but instead
reveled in the rare sighting of my father drunk.

       On New Year's Eve, I had lunch with Cody and Ricky, the stories from
Thanksgiving running wild and making me nervous. As soon as Ethan's name
came up, I flagged over a waiter and ordered a Bloody Mary using Dylan's
old ID.

       "Since when do you drink Bloody Mary's?" Ricky asked.

       "Our big college boy is all grown up," Cody joked.

       "Anyway," Rick said. "Ethan. The morning after the party he was all
smiles and giggles and I was like, who the fuck did he hook up with? And so
I asked him and he said he hooked up with a college guy." I almost choked
on my ice water. I needed this drink to get here ASAP. "I was blown away
that A. he was coming out to me, just like that, no big deal. And that
B. he'd hooked up with someone at the party. I mean, I didn't think I even
knew any gay guys."

       "Any idea who?" I asked, trying my best to sound casual. I wasn't
actually ready to have this conversation with my friends, but if it led to
it, I'd just tell them. If a 17 year old high school kid could blurt it
out, why couldn't I?

       "I should be asking you, Cooper," Ricky said, just as the waiter
arrived. I took a sip of the drink, choked it back a little and asked him
why. I was praying that I hadn't turned as red as my cocktail. "Well, you
were hanging out with him all night. You must have noticed him sketch off
at some point."

       "Umm," I said, innocently. "No. I didn't. Actually, I didn't see him
after we lost to ya'll in beer pong."

       "Hmm," Ricky said. "Well, whatever. The point is, my cousin is a
slut and apparently a catch in the gay community."

       That was the end of the conversation at lunch, and I hoped it was
the end of it forever. That wasn't the case. As I drove Cody back to his
house, he brought it up again.

       "It was you, wasn't it?" he said out of the blue. We'd been
discussing how relieved he was that Nicole hadn't told Ricky the two of
them had slept together and were seeing each other on the sly. We both knew
that Ricky would flip if and when he found out.

       "Me who what?" I asked.

       "You forget that I know you like a brother, right?" he was
right. We'd been best friends for as long as I could remember.

       "Okay," I said, rounding the corner to Cody's street. I was glad we
were almost at his house so that this conversation wouldn't have to drag on
forever. "Yes, it was me. And yes I hooked up with Ethan. And yes, I hook
up with guys now. Occasionally."

       "And you just weren't going to say anything?"

       "It's not a big deal."

       "It kind of is, Cooper," he said. I could tell there was a slight
irritation in his voice. I was just on a roll, pissing everyone off these
days. "You're my best friend, dude. And I know you're up in Dallas living a
completely different life, but it would be nice if you would include me in
some of the small stuff, like you being a raging `mo now."

       He was right. There was no reason not to include him in my life just
because I didn't see him on the daily anymore.

       "I'm sorry, Codes," I said to him. "The truth is, I thought it was a
phase. And then it turned into more than that and now, I don't know."

       "So what, do you have a boyfriend now or something?"

       "No," I replied quickly. I pulled into his driveway. "Not. Not
anymore."

       "So this is what happens at these overpriced schools? Guys get
roommates, start messing around with them and then before their old friends
can shake a stick at them, they're full on homosexuals," he said,
jokingly. I was glad he was cool even if he was making a big deal about it.

       And then it hit me why everything with Spencer had changed. Cody and
I had this bond that time and separation couldn't really break. I mean,
we'd practically grown up together and even though I didn't see him all the
time, it was still there. It was the reason we could have this conversation
so effortlessly.

       That was Kyle and Spencer. Even if Spence and I had gotten close
since we'd moved in, the fact was his loyalty would always lie with
Kyle. That was just how childhood friendships worked.

       I answered a few more of Cody's questions, including but not limited
to: "Do you give it or take it? How can you stand the taste of semen? How
did you even know? Are you afraid of getting `the HIV'?" I tried not to
gross him out with my answers, said I'd talk to him later, and then dropped
him off.

       That night, I got dressed to the party nines: black jeans, the
tightest button down shirt I owned and one of my brother's skinny ties. As
we pregamed in my room, getting down to the last of the whiskey, my brother
commented. "You look... well, pretty gay."

	"This is your tie, bro," I replied, laughing.

       The party he took me to was a swanky club affair in Dallas' West End
district, just south of Victory Park. Dylan and I agreed that he'd most
likely go home with the girl he'd screwed two nights ago (and our ticket
into the party to begin with), and I would cab it to campus, which was
luckily still accessible by swipe card. I wasn't feeling a one night stand
again. The taste of Bryan's married cum was still a bad one in my mouth.

       We checked our coats, dropped Lisa's name and were ushered to a
private balcony overlooking the dance floor at one of Dallas' most
exclusive clubs. From the window behind us, you could see the American
Airline Center, the Reunion Tower and all of the people hanging out in
Victory Plaza. I felt extremely ritzy with the table and bottle
service. This was the kind of place Kyle would love.

       And as soon as I thought that, I kept expecting to see him
everywhere. This was his pinky raised cup of tea, I thought, taking my
second cosmo from our personal bartender.

       Instead of dwelling on it, I hit the dance floor. I was just drunk
enough not to care how I looked, and took in the club beats like a crazy
person. As I danced, I saw him and stopped dead in my tracks.

       He was a couple of inches shorter than me, about 5'8. He was
impossibly skinny but had a good muscle definition. I could tell because
he'd taken his shirt of and had flung it over his shoulder. He had dark
brown hair and green eyes and the second he smiled at me, mouthing the
words to whatever pop song the DJ had remixed, I almost melted. He was
gorgeous. I had to get his attention.

       The problem was he was surrounded by women vying for the same
attention. I was just drunk enough to think that the eye contact we'd made
briefly meant something, so I decided to dance closer to him and see for
sure.

       Without being obvious, I scooted across the dance floor, still
working my moves as if no one was watching. I decided to talk to him and
just go for it. When I was within striking distance, I grabbed his shoulder
and yelled, "They're all over you tonight."

       He looked at me, smiled and gave me a thumbs up. I had no clue what
that meant, so I continued. "Let me get you a drink?" I shouted over the
music. I could see some of the girls around him looking at me, wondering
where my nerve to talk to their man had come from.

       I gave the guy my best smile and then cocked my head towards the
bar. He smiled at me and followed me off the dance floor.

       "You have some killer moves," I said to him when we got to the much
quieter bar. I wanted to say that he had a killer bod, but I figured that
wasn't the most appropriate thing. I hadn't even snuffed out whether he was
gay or not yet. So far, he was just a guy who I'd offered to buy a drink.

       "Thanks," he replied. "You aren't a bad dancer yourself. And those
girls are digging you, too."

       "Oh please," I said. I was going to make the leap. "All eyes are on
your body tonight."

       "All eyes?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Bingo, I thought. I waved
over the bartender, told him I was with Diaz upstairs and that I needed two
cosmos. A minute later, the bartender returned with two martini glasses.

       "We can't dance with these," he said, indicating the tall drinks.

       "Good," I said. "I had to get you away from the competition."

       I figured a midnight make-out with this guy wouldn't be a bad
idea. First of all, he was as cute as they came. He looked to be around my
age and I wondered if he was a student at SMU that I hadn't run into
yet. We toasted our drinks, and then started chit-chatting.

       "So which one do you have your eye on for your midnight kiss?" I
asked him.

       "Well considering one of those girls is my sister and the other two
are her friends, I didn't have my eye on anyone just yet. I still have
another hour to figure it out."

       "They're going fast," I said, taking a sip of my drink and trying to
look as sexy as possible.

       "I'm worried about you," he said back to me. "It doesn't look like
you're making any headway."

       "I'm sure I'll find someone," I said, scooting a little bit closer
to him.

       He finished his cocktail, gave me a look and then said. "Well, the
clock is ticking, Cinderella. I'd better go back out there." And then as
quickly as he'd said it, he went back to the dance floor, leaving me with a
half drank cosmo and a twist of confusion.

       Did I miss something? I thought we were flirting. I thought he was
digging it. Why did he sketch off right as I was getting more forward? I
felt awkward for a second and then thought maybe he was playing hard to
get. I wasn't the easiest chase and guys still managed to seduce me. I'd
have to turn up my game, I thought. They aren't all that easy.

       I knocked back the rest of my drink and went back out to the dance
floor. This guy wanted a chase? I'd give him a chase. I danced around him
for a song. I quickly found one of the girls he'd mentioned was with his
sister and pulled her in to dance with me. As I was grinding with her, I
kept my eyes off of McHottie, knowing that he probably had his eyes on me.

       I danced sexier and sexier, lower and lower, trying to get this
dude's attention. I stole one glance and saw that my plan was working. Even
while he was dancing with a girl, he had all eyes on me. I noticed him try
to slide over closer to me and I pushed my way around my dance partner so
that she created a buffer.

       At the end of the song, I gave her a kiss on the cheek and then
walked slowly to the bar where I intended to expense another two
drinks. Just as I'd expected, the guy showed up behind me right as I was
flagging down the bartender.

       "Oh, hello there," I said casually. Probably too casually. He knew I
was on to his game.

       "So what's your deal?" he said.

       "I don't have a deal," I replied. I turned to the bartender and
ordered another cosmo. One this time.

       "You buy me a drink, and then you throw in the towel? With ten
minutes to go until midnight, let me remind you," he said.
       "I don't play Tom and Jerry," I replied with a smirk. "Now, my
friends and I have a box right up there where we're going to watch the ball
drop in ten minutes. You're welcome to join me if you want to."

       "Do you want me to?" he asked. Oh, how the tides had quickly turned.

       "It's up to you..."

       "Patrick," he said. "My name is Patrick."

       "Well, it's up to you, Patrick." I started walking slowly towards
the black rope that led to the VIP boxes. I turned around, and Patrick was
one step behind me.

       I'm not going to lie, I was really proud that my first full on
seduction had gone smoothly. It had looked for a minute like I was going to
lose it, but apparently playing indifferent is what my secret weapon had
been all along and I was beginning to realize it.

       We got up to the balcony box and I introduced him to Lisa, my
brother, Lisa's friend and her boyfriend, Diaz, who had sponsored this
entire trip to the big life.

       "You never told me your name," he whispered to me at 11:58, hanging
off of me. "I never kiss guys whose names I don't know." I'd snagged me a
classy one.

       "Cooper," I said. He smiled at me and two minutes and one midnight
toast of champagne later, I was making out with Patrick on a balcony. I
didn't pull out my best moves, not wanting to get too carried away in front
of my brother and everyone else. Instead, we kept the kiss respectful, but
nice. Our bartender poured everyone a Patron shot after that, and I was
nearing the edge of coherence.

       "Let's dance," I shouted to Patrick. And we did. We slipped
downstairs and hit the floor with a crowd of people who were just as drunk
as we were.

       Patrick already had his shirt off and somehow convinced me to follow
suit. I couldn't imagine what the two of us looked like: the only two gay
guys dancing together, shirtless, in a room full of gawkers. For some
reason, knowing we had an audience really turned me on and before long,
Patrick and I were grinding on each other.

       There was no stopping us. The second I turned around to grind on
him, I felt that he had a hard pop in his low hanging pants. I turned my
head around and smiled at him. I thought about making out with him right
then, but I decided a dance floor make-out in a crowd full of people would
take us from sexy to slutty in a split second.

       Instead, I shouted over the music, "Let's get out of here." I walked
off before he had a chance to answer and I knew he would follow me.

       I led him through the black rope to the stairwell and once we were
in the dark corridor, I kissed him. "Let's get out of here," I repeated.

       "I'm with my sister, I can't just leave," he said. I kissed him
again. "I paid 75 dollars for our tickets and it's only 12:30." I kissed
him again. "Where would we even go?"

       I kissed him a last time and then said, "Are you done?"

       "Yeah, I think I'm all done," he replied.

       "Good. Follow me." I led him up to our box, told Dylan I was heading
to the dorm and then went back down to coat check. He texted his sister
that he'd call her in the morning and I smiled. I had come out not wanting
another one-night stand, but something about Patrick had magnetically drawn
me in. I had gone from Midnight make-out to my first hookup of the year in
T-minus 32 minutes.

       I hailed us a cab, gave it the address to the dorms and a second
later, we were making out in the back of a yellow car. I liked that this
guy didn't care at all.

       One thing that was cool about Patrick was that he was a little more
feminine than any of the guys I'd been with. Up until then, I had attracted
the more masculine, manly types, but change is always good. For my first
full on seduction, I'd gone for the waiffish, feminine type.

       When we got to the SMU campus, I handed the driver a bill and led
Patrick up to my room. We were both just drunk enough and had been
fore-playing just enough that when the door to my room clicked behind us,
our hands were all over each other.

       Patrick felt warm from dancing all night and our bodies already had
a thin layer of sweat on them and so our torsos glided together
effortlessly. It felt weird being in my room with a different guy,
remembering that the last person I'd had sex with in there was Kyle. Still,
today was a new day and Patrick was a new guy.

       We were going at it so hot and heavy by my door that I didn't even
lead him to the bed. Instead, once our shirts were off, I turned him around
and pushed him against the wall. He ground backwards into me, feeling my
cock pulse through my jeans.

       "Let's let that out, shall we?" he purred. I started with his pants,
unbuttoning the five buttons from behind him. The whole time, his back was
arching into my chest and putting pressure onto my nipples. I felt in total
control over him and I liked the feeling.

       He kicked his pants off while I undid mine and panted as I bit into
his shoulder a little bit.

       "Mmmm," he said in front of me, tilting his head back as I worked
him over. I was developing a style that was equal parts Kyle and
Riley. Passionate and sexy, like Kyle, but raw and sort of dangerous, like
Riley. And Patrick was digging the hybrid. One reach around and I felt his
hard cock responding to my touch.

       "I want you in me," he purred. He didn't have to tell me twice. I
walked over to where Spencer and I kept our condoms, and had one pulled,
peeled and rolled over my cock before I got back to the door.

       I started working Patrick's neck again, keeping my nibbles low so
that he could cover whatever mark I left behind with a collar. Meanwhile, I
used one finger to open up his hole and the other hand to guide my cock
right to it. In order to slip in, I pushed Patrick forward, bent him over
the wall and popped my cock right into his ass.

       "Ooooh," he said sexily, writhing his back at me. I'd never seen a
bottom respond to getting penetrated so effortlessly and it really turned
me on. I bit my bottom lip, arched Patrick's back and started fucking him.

       His response to my cock indicated to me that he liked being fucked,
and so that's exactly what I did. I bent him over, first against the wall
and railed into him as forcefully as I knew how, not worrying about my
speed.

       Eventually, I felt like we needed a change and so I pushed him to my
bed. I bent him over, pulled one of my legs up so that I could drill right
into him. I fucked quickly for a few minutes and then slowed
down. Sometimes I pulled all the way out, waited for his reaction and then
slammed right back in. I had no clue where I'd gotten these moves, but it
was almost like his body was guiding my actions.

       Finally, we knelt down on the ground over the side of my bed. At
this point, we were both drenched with sweat and Patrick had a dozen little
hickies all over his shoulders. I took his hands and wrapped my fingers
between his and stretched our hands out as far as they could go. I thrust
in a few more times and then let my load rip right inside of him. I could
tell that he was coming on my floor from the vibration of his body
underneath me and I let out an animalistic growl as I felt both of our
loads go.

       Spent, I stood up, tossed Patrick a cloth and got one for myself. I
figured a little make-out and we'd be ready to go for another round. I
looked at the clock and saw that it was barely three.

       "Can I use your bathroom?" he asked me. I pointed to where it was
and then got into my bed to wait for Patrick.

       I heard the click of the bathroom door and the turn of a key happen
at the exact same time. As the door to our room opened, I pulled my sheet
over my naked body and watched Spencer walk into the room, followed by a
nicely dressed Kyle.

       "Shit," Spencer said when he saw me. "What the hell are you doing
here?"

       "What the hell are you doing here?" I asked back.

       "I'm leaving," Kyle said, shaking his head and trying not to look at
me.

       "No, you stay," Spencer said to him. To me he said, "You have to
go."

       "I'm not going anywhere," I replied. "I live here."

       "So do I."

       "Kyle has a room right across the quad." I wondered why he was
bringing Kyle back to our room to begin with. My first thought was that the
two of them were going to hookup and it enraged me. They weren't allowed to
hookup. Kyle was mine. And so was Spencer in a way. I realized that if Kyle
really wanted to punish me, that's what he could do. And then I saw the two
Redbox movies in Spencer's hands and I figured there was a logical
explanation for all of this.

       "With a roommate who's having sex with his girlfriend," Spencer
replied. "Now get out so that we can watch `No Country for Old Men'."

       "I'm going to let you two sort this out," Kyle said. He crossed
Spencer toward the bathroom. I watched him walk to the door like I was
watching a train wreck happen right before my eyes. I almost died the
second I saw Kyle reach for the door, only for it to open right before he
could. I put my head down and prayed I could disappear a million miles
away.

       The door opened right in front of Kyle, revealing a very naked and
very hard Patrick.

       "Cooper," Spencer whispered, tilting his head in disappointment.

       "Oh my god," Kyle said, turning around quickly. Patrick reached for
a towel as quickly as possible and covered his junk. As if I wasn't trapped
in my own hell already, I noticed that the towel was Spencer's and
monogrammed.

       I was speechless. I thought about a million things I wanted to say
but couldn't. Instead, I sat up and just looked at Kyle. He put his head on
Spencer's shoulder. Spencer wrapped his arms around Kyle the same way he'd
wrapped his arms around me when I'd finally figured out Kyle's part in the
Sigma fiasco. This was a disaster.

       "I think maybe I should go," Patrick said, coming in and reaching
for his pants.

       "Yeah, that would be wise," Spencer said, sounding more threatening
than I'd ever heard him sound before.

       As he was putting on his clothes, stupidly starting with his shirt,
he said, "You wouldn't happen to have any extra cab fare to get me back,
would you? Just, I hadn't planned on this whole thing going down."

       I got up, realized I was naked too and grabbed my jeans. I pulled
them on, pulled out my wallet and handed him a twenty— a fifth of the
Christmas money my grandmother had sent me.

       The whole thing was happening to someone else, I thought. And it was
happening in slow motion. Even though it had taken Patrick less than a
minute to go from jay bird to fully clothed, I felt like the whole thing
was a slow motion torture.

       "Kyle, go downstairs and call us a cab," Spencer said to my crying
and shaking ex-boyfriend. "We'll check into the W or something."

       Kyle took the movies from Spencer and left the room, not once
looking at me.

       "Are you fucking kidding me?" Spencer asked when the door clicked
shut. He was pissed. Way pissed.

       "This isn't fair," I said. "I had no clue ya'll were going to be
here."

       "And does that matter, Coop? A week ago, you were calling him
nonstop and now you have strangers walking in and out of our dorm room?"

       "I don't need a lecture from you," I said. "It is more than clear
where your loyalties lie."

       "Loyal—" he began. I could tell he was fuming and it was the
first time I'd ever seen Spencer truly angry. "Are you kidding? Loyalties?
I'm taking care of a friend. If you've forgotten I stayed up nights during
exam week to be with you. You would have no clue what loyalties were if
they smacked you in the ass."

       "We broke up, Spencer," I said. "I can't sit around waiting for him
to get over it."

       "You're right, Cooper. You are dead right; you can't sit around and
wait a decent amount of time before you hit the field again. You are
seriously not the guy I thought you were, you know that?"

       I felt like a jackass, but I honestly didn't think this was my
fault. An unfortunate situation? Yes. My mistake? Absolutely not.

       "Look," I said. "I'm sorry that this happened, I really am. The
whole thing, Spence, and you have to believe me, if I could be with Kyle, I
totally would. But it's not that easy."

       "I'm not gonna have this fight with you right now, because I think
this fight deserves a fight of its own," he said. "But it is quite easy,
Cooper. You love someone, you be with them. And you don't bring hooker call
boys around your bedroom." He looked at me pointedly, his eyes boring into
mine. And then he turned around and walked out, slamming the door as he
left.

       I lied down on my bed and involuntarily started crying. I was tired
of being made into a villain. It wasn't my fault that Kyle wanted to zoom
to a place I wasn't ready for. It wasn't my fault he'd asked me to it
sooner rather than later if I wasn't sure, while I still had Riley on the
backburner. None of that was my fault. It wasn't my fault that we'd broken
up in the first place— if I remembered correctly, his deal with the
Sigmas was what had caused that riff and now I was being made to look like
the bad guy. I understood that Kyle was hurting, but honestly, how was any
of this my fault?

       After an hour of thinking that way, I thought about apologizing. I
could go to the W and ask for Wriggs or Davis and just go up there and
apologize. We could talk it out and come to some sort of term about how we
were going to proceed, and how we were going to split Spencer. It would
have been great to have a friend right now, but instead he was out with the
ex I was evidently supposed to care more about than myself.

       And then I thought about what a huge mistake I'd made for myself. I
was crazy to let Kyle go and sitting there, I realized it. Why not just
date him and date him alone until I was sure? I mean, let's think for a
second. If Kyle was the real deal, like I felt he was, what was the harm in
acting like it? If we ended up spending the rest of our lives together,
we'd have a great story to tell, no? And if he wasn't, well then it would
devolve at some point, but we would have known we gave it our best
shot. This, right here, was not our best shot.

       But I couldn't help but think I'd made the right choice. It was this
hard after four months. Imagine if we dated for four years, how hard would
it be when we asked ourselves the hard questions then? I told myself that
Kyle would get over it and that if we were meant to be, we'd be. If Kyle
and I were meant to be, then somehow, whenever it mattered, we would be. I
fell asleep that night saying that over and over to myself. I barely
believed it.

**I'd like to hear what you thought about this chapter! As always, I
appreciate all feedback, so please drop me a line at jwolf24450@gmail.com.