3. Ellis

CHAPTER 3

ELLIS

Studio time is my favorite part of the week, and I've been stalking the schedule for any extra time I can get. I miss having my own space for art. So much so that I've been considering what it would take to afford my own apartment. Not having to live with Brad would certainly be worth it, however exhausted I'd be maintaining a job with a full class schedule, and it's not as though I have a terribly busy social calendar or anything.

Well, maybe it's a little busier than it's been before, considering the number of notifications I have on my phone after ignoring it for the past couple of hours. Why are there so many?

It's probably Elliot, and maybe Ivy, trying to get me to agree to the party tomorrow. I'm sure they'll break me down. Honestly, I'd rather go to a dumb party than be stuck in the dorm all night, anyway. Ignoring the messages, I turn back to the piece I'm working on.

The canvas in front of me is indicative of how I've been feeling lately. Messy. Disjointed. Jumbled. Equal parts excited and afraid, struggling to find myself and accept myself as I am .

It's barely been a month since we moved from home, but already so much has changed in me. I think being out, without the pressure of announcing it to the world, has been freeing. I'm able to be more myself here, even if I'm still working on coming out of my shell more. Between Ivy, the Pride Alliance, and my constant communication with Johnny, I think I'm coming along.

I'm happy here, if you don't count the two, unfortunately large, glaring obstacles to outright happiness.

Obviously, there's Brad. He's made living here miserable. I'm constantly on edge around him, to the point where I can't breathe in my dorm. I've opened the website for student services so many times, but they make it very clear that living arrangements are permanent except for extreme situations. It's got me almost hoping he punches me just so I could have a chance.

And then there's Gabe. Despite living halfway across campus from my dorm, having completely different majors, and almost no crossover in our social circles, he's still everywhere. Both physically and mentally. He's in two of my core classes, so I have to be in the same room with him almost every day. Luckily, the Contemporary Literature course is a large seminar, so I don't think he's even noticed I'm in the same room. I sit in the back row and keep my head down. He sat right next to me in our Applied Mathematics class though. It didn't occur to me that signing up for the easiest basic courses might land me in the same classroom as him. I assumed that my graphic arts major and his kinesiology major wouldn't have any crossover, but I guess most freshmen take basic core classes together. Unless you're Elliot and came in with transcripts full of high school AP courses and early college credits.

After our first couple of classes together, Gabe tried to follow me out and walk with me to get lunch. I still feel guilty for being rude to him. When simply trying to brush him off wasn't getting through to him, I ended up losing my composure and snapping. I think the pressure of trying to put him out of my mind while trying to be a fuller, more authenti c version of myself just got to me. It's too hard denying what my heart wants most, while realizing the potential of what my body wants at the same time. Making out with a stranger awakened something in me, and that something has grown into hunger now that I've been able to explore my sexuality more with Johnny. Wrong though it might be, Gabe's face is still the only one I see in my fantasies. Looking at it in person is just too much.

Not that I have a choice. Even though Gabe has barely tried speaking to me after I unloaded on him, the professor asked us all to keep our same seats until he learns all our names. So I still have to sit next to him three times a week. It's hard to concentrate when I can feel his presence and smell that he's fresh from the shower after his morning workout. It doesn't help that every time I look over at him, he's watching me with a weird, worried expression. Probably because I've never yelled and told him to get out of my life so I could pretend I didn't know him.

Today, I apologized. I can't stand the tension anymore. It's not his fault that I'm pathetically in love with him. He has no idea, anyway. It's probably easier to just deal with him being around occasionally rather than try to wash him from my mind. I let him walk with me to the art department since it's on the way to the dining hall, and didn't even lose my temper when I had to explain twice why I was choosing to skip lunch for studio time. I didn't bother mentioning that I'd be here for hours. The concept of skipping meals has always been abhorrent to Gabe. I've tried explaining that my body requires significantly less fuel than his, but not consuming five thousand calories a day is a foreign concept to a six-foot-three muscular beast of a man that spends most of his time working out and playing sports. But I have a stash of granola bars in my backpack and a free afternoon, so I'm going to be in my happy place until my studio time is up. Then I'll grab a sandwich or something on my way to the library, where I'll stay until they kick me out before I go back to the dorm .

I bite my lip and consider the project I'm working on. I wonder what Johnny would think of my project. Or Gabe.

The base of my canvas is layers of black and different shades of grey. A lot of my normal stuff has a darker, almost grungy feel to it. This piece has more color to it, or it's starting to. From the bottom left there is the beginning of a rainbow, and it arches across the canvas in wisps of barely visible swipes of color, or broken fragments of brighter pieces of the rainbow. In some places, the colors are muted and mixed into the dark background, and in others, the colors look like they are breaking through the darkness.

The first semester assignment for my studio art class is to create something that represents who I am, using any medium I choose. I'm excited that it's such an open project, because I don't typically plan my art. I like instinct and inspiration to guide me. Usually, it starts with a sketch, but for this piece, I decided to start with paint and let the inspiration take me. It has potential, I think, but it's got a long way to go.

I'm buzzing by the time I pack up my supplies and leave the studio. This is what I love about art. Feeling the potential of a piece and that excitement of having no idea where it could lead. The bone deep desire to dive into it and live there, to not come up for air until you're forced. It's walking away that's hard. Having to paint on a schedule actually might be a good thing for me, otherwise I'd probably forget to eat, sleep, or go to class.

My fingers are still itching for the brush, rubbing together as I walk across campus, still lost in my project in my head. I love coming up with plans for all the different things I want to do to the canvas, even if most of the time they never come to fruition because it can change on a whim. I'm never in charge of my art, but I love the way I can abandon expectations and reality when I give into whatever inspiration is driving me. I've always wished I could be that free in everything else I do .

At some point, I end up at my favorite spot in the library, although I was barely aware of the walk here. After I get settled into the worn grey leather armchair and organize my books and homework on the small table, I stare out the window at the darkening campus below. Few people spend much time on the third floor where the old microfiche and periodicals are kept, so it's always quiet up here, but the library is pretty empty as a whole. I suppose most people are getting started on their Labor Day weekend celebrations. Which reminds me that I haven't returned any messages. Predictably, most of them are from my brother. He mentions sleeping on his couch if I don't want to worry about walking across campus after or waking up my roommate. Honestly, that's probably the most convincing thing anyone's said to get me to go. Except what if Gabe brings a girl back to the dorm and I have to see them together? Or worse, what if I have to listen to him have sex with someone?

"There you are."

I let out a very manly shriek and come up off the chair, which makes Ivy snort.

"You can't sneak up on me like that!"

She laughs. "To be fair, I texted you and called your name several times."

Ivy was the one that told me about this hidden spot that I've adopted as my own. She knows I come here most nights to avoid my roommate.

"I was just now getting caught up with my messages. I've been in the studio."

"I see that," she says, pointing out the smears of paint on my arms and clothes. It's not an uncommon look for me. At home, I have a favorite pair of sweatpants and a crop top I like to wear, but I'm not secure enough to wear it out. Especially after Brad's reaction .

"You looked troubled," she says. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. Just lost in thought, I guess."

The deadpan look she gives me lets me know I'm not fooling her, but it's not like I can tell anyone. Hell, I don't even know how to articulate the problem.

What am I supposed to say?

Oh, I was just thinking about my brother's best friend that I've been in love with for probably half my life and can't stop obsessing about even though I have a very sweet, caring, ripped, ridiculously hung guy that I've been chatting with. Only he's super closeted and can't even let me know who he is or what he looks like. It's probably not going to go anywhere, but I'm okay with it because I've basically been using him to explore an entirely different side of myself. Except now that I've untapped the slut in me, sex is all I can think about and now I'm even more worried that my crush will be obvious and I'll either embarrass myself or break my own heart. Which is inevitable anyway, because he's super straight and thinks of me like an annoying little brother. And I can't so much as go to a party because I'm afraid I'll see him being his usual gorgeous, very straight, manwhore self. I thought I could get him out of my mind, but even with the distraction of JOHNNY, classes, and an asshole roommate, I can't fucking escape the torment of wanting him.

Yeah, no.

She sighs heavily and sits in the seat across from mine. "I know we don't know each other that well yet, but you can talk to me."

I give her a weak smile. Honestly, I'd love to talk to someone, but I don't trust myself to know when to stop talking. Once I open my mouth, I give too much away. And I'm not ready for my brand-new friend to realize just how much of a loser I am. I don't think I can look in someone's face and lay out all these feelings without losing what little respect I have for myself .

"I matched with someone on Howler," I blurt, giving her my second biggest issue to cover my biggest weakness.

Ivy gasps and pulls her legs up under her slim body and leans forward with her chin on her fists. "Tell me ev-er-y-thing ," she demands. She doesn't even wait for me to get words out before she points out that I'm blushing. Of course, once it's pointed out, it just gets worse, and it doesn't even have to do with Johnny. I'm just embarrassed at being embarrassed.

"Holy shit, he must be really fucking hot."

"I mean, the parts I've seen are?—"

"What do you mean parts? !" she shrieks, too loudly for a library. Luckily, there's no one up here.

"Will you calm down?!" I whisper-yell at her.

"Absolutely out of the question," she says, but composes herself before quietly demanding that I tell her everything.

I wasn't planning on telling her everything . I honestly thought telling her I matched with someone would distract her, and then I'd turn it around on her so she could tell me some of her hilarious hookup stories. But she's keen on my deception, and I end up spilling everything about Johnny, except for the part where I fantasize that he's my brother's best friend.

"…I realize it's a little weird that he's choosing to remain anonymous, but I kind of prefer it this way. I'm a lot braver anonymously." I laugh sardonically, feeling dumb. "Somehow, I find it easier to send a stranger a picture of my body than I would sending one of my face."

I'm expecting her to be appalled, or to caution me about sending dick pics to an anonymous stranger. But she surprises me. "That makes total sense to me, actually. The anonymity is giving you the freedom to try on a new persona, come out of your shell a little bit. You've never let yourself explo re this side of yourself before, I say do it."

"You don't think I'm an idiot that's falling into some kind of predator's trap?" I can just see my mother crying that I'm going to be on Dateline .

"You're smart enough to be cautious where it's warranted. As long as you're keeping yourself safe, I think it's a great opportunity to explore being out in a smaller, safer environment. And whoever it is, they're at least a student at this school. You have to have credentials to make a profile. So if anything happened, or if this Johnny guy does or says anything threatening, it can be traced. Honestly, if you wanted to know who it is, I've got a friend in administration that could look it up."

"I weirdly don't want to know, but thanks." If I knew his real name, it'd be harder to imagine he's the person I want. "And I appreciate your confidence."

"I've got your back, Ellis. And so do the rest of our group. If you ever need advice or just to commiserate, they're pretty fucking fantastic."

"I'll remember that," I say, smiling at the warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest. I wasn't completely friendless in high school, but I never made much of an attempt to get deeper than a surface level friendship. I was too busy following my brother and Gabe around, pretending I didn't want to be there, trying to hide the hearts in my eyes whenever I looked at Gabe. Maybe making real friends can be what helps me overcome.

"Speaking of, what are you doing tomorrow?"

I look around myself at my laptop, books, tablet, and sketchpad taking up a space meant for three people. Ivy laughs.

"That's what I thought," she says. "Meet me on the quad at ten thirty. You're coming with us tomorrow."

" So, let me get this straight. We're supposed to eat junk food and ride fair rides until we puke all day, and then go to a party and drink until we puke all night?"

"Yes!" Ivy says, clapping. "He's catching on!" she cheers to the three others standing at the entrance to the Hunt County State Fair. They all laugh and clap with her, patting me on the back.

"And here we were worried you were going to be just another pretty face," Tyrell says, patting my cheek. His tone is patronizing, but his blue rimmed eyes are twinkling. He chuckles as he pulls me into his side and gestures to another one of our group, Antoni, who is being handed a massive cotton candy.

Antoni turns back to our group and all but skips back to us, his light caramel eyes lit up like a child. "Look! It has glitter!" he says, moving the pastel cloud so it catches the light. His amusement over the way it sparkles is far too endearing. He comes off as childlike and air-headed, but he looks like he walked out of a high fashion magazine. His deep tan skin is flawless, with puffy lips, high cheekbones, and perfectly sculpted eyebrows. A lock of glossy black hair falls across his forehead as he tears off a piece of the cloud and eats it, gesturing around to share his sugary treat with the rest of us.

I observe him and the rest of my new friends as we make our way through the crowd of people. I swear he eats everything in sight, and considering he's thinner than me, I don't know where he puts it all. Tyrell jokes that he stores extra food in his empty head, which Antoni seems to find genuinely hilarious. Playful ribbing is Tyrell's love language, I've learned, and his loud booming laugh when a joke is turned around on him is so joyful, even people that aren't in on the joke smile with us. I have a feeling Antoni isn't as dim as he pretends. Just like Gabe, who uses his dumb jock facade to enchant the people around him, Antoni seems too observant to truly be the most beautiful of idiot s. He's probably a secret genius.

Our other members include Sean, who is on the wrestling team and has biceps so big he can't reach the back of his own neck. He doesn't talk much. And Jamie, who refers to themself as ‘the resident enby'. They're the comedians of the group, and they seem to appreciate my self-deprecating humor. I appreciate their ability to keep everything light-hearted and their appreciation for all things grunge.

At some point during the day, I have a small epiphany while listening to Jaime and Tyrell talk about his calf muscles. "Wait a second," I say. Ivy plays tennis, and Tyrell is a track star. "Antoni, do you play a sport?"

"I'm on the swim team," he says. "How else do you think I maintain this?" He pulls his shirt up to reveal that he isn't as thin as he seems, because his torso is nothing but lean, shredded muscle.

I turn my head toward Jamie. "Am I the only non-athlete here?"

"Oh, hell no," Jamie says. "This body was made for comfort, not athleticism. I'm in the sports medicine program. That's how I met all these fabulous assholes."

I wonder if they know Gabe. I shake the thought from my head immediately.

Ivy laughs. "Did you not realize that Howler Pride Alliance is a queer student athlete's organization?"

"No! I only came to the table because?—"

"Because your brother signed you up," she says. "I remember now." She glances behind me and chuckles. "And I also remember that he wrote you in as a member of the baseball team. I didn't think anything of it at the time. "

I shake my head in exasperation. "Fucking Elliot. I should text him and ask exactly what position I was meant to play."

"Bat boy, of course." I spin around just in time to get caught in a headlock by my much larger and unfortunately stronger twin brother.

"Elliot, get off!" I shout, words muffled into his torso as I struggle against him. He might be bigger and stronger, but I'm scrappy. I had to be, growing up with Elliot and Gabe around all the time. The two of them used to gang up on me, and— Oh no . "Don't you even think about it, Gabe!" I shriek, just as he comes up behind me, lifting me in a fireman's carry and spinning me around while I beat against his back.

"Ooh, keep doing that. Lower," he says, dropping the front of my body a little lower behind him so my fists can reach his lower back. I punch him, hard. But when he tells me to do it harder, I cross my arms and hang there limply until he puts me the fuck down.

"You're both assholes."

When I'm finally released, I avoid everyone's attention while I try to straighten my clothes and make myself presentable again. Elliot hands me one of my flip-flops that flew off, and I try to smooth down the wrinkles in my tank top. The ponytail I had my hair in came loose, and I don't see it anywhere. I try to finger comb my almost shoulder length dark hair into submission, but it's even messier than usual. Fucking fuckers.

"I actually really like it down like this," Antoni says, stepping forward to help me fix my wavy mop. He gives me a kind smile, and it helps settle my nerves a bit.

I really can't stand when Elliot and Gabe treat me like their kid brother just because I'm smaller than they are. I'm only a couple of inches shorter than my brother, but he has at least fifty pounds of muscle on me, maybe more s ince he's started working out with the team trainer. And Gabe is just huge.

"He's so hot," Antoni mouths, cutting his eyes over to where my brother and Gabe are talking to Sean and Tyrell, although Gabe seems to be watching my interaction with Antoni from where he stands.

I'm not sure which one he's talking about, but I roll my eyes. "He's so annoying," I reply. Antoni laughs. Gabe frowns.

"Little E! Ferris wheel!" Gabe barks.

"No. Fuck you."

"Aww, come on," he says, throwing a strong arm around my shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not. You like manhandling me." And I find it embarrassingly arousing, and I'm not in the mood to hide my half chub from the public.

"True. But I shouldn't have done it in front of your new friends."

"Or in front of yours. Or at all."

"What would be the fun in that?"

His breath skims my cheek as he leans over my shoulder to hand two tickets to an attendant, and it's only just now that I realize I've been herded to the Ferris Wheel. I turn my head and scowl at him, but he just grins widely and winks.

My brother, for all his brawn and perfection, is terrified of heights. Whenever there was a fair in town, Gabe made me go on all the rides with him. He also made me go zip lining with him last year. I can roll my eyes all I want, but it's just for show, because I love every moment of having something that only I can give him. For however long the ride lasts, I get him all to myself. Predictably, he's so large that he takes up most of the seat. But either it's been a lot longer than I remembered since we've gone on one of these rides, or this is a particularly small car, because the only way I can fit is if Gabe widens his legs so I can sit between them.

"This isn't going to work. You're too big," I say, beginning to stand, but Gabe pulls my arm just as the ride lurches.

His lips quirk, like I've said something funny. "It's too late now. We'll be fine. Settle down."

"Don't tell me to settle down, Gabe," I snap, afraid of my reaction to his proximity.

"What's been with you lately?"

"I don't know what you mean," I say with an exasperated sigh.

I try to tuck my knees up on the seat with me so I'm not touching him, and focus on the slow rise of the ride as the last passengers are loaded. Some twenty feet below, my brother and Ivy look up at us. He can probably see my pissed off expression from where he is, because he's watching us with an amused expression.

"I dunno. You've been off. Pissier than usual." He holds his hands up in front of him like he might have to fend me off. If every move of this little bucket wasn't likely to end up with me in his lap, I'd probably at least kick him.

If anything, this is just more proof that Gabe isn't as dense as he seems. Otherwise, he'd have accepted my apology for my outburst the other day and moved on. I suppose I still haven't exactly been friendly to him. But it's not like I can tell him I've been trying to avoid him because I'm working on purging myself of my hopeless crush.

"I'm sorry," I sigh. "I'm having a hard time getting used to the dorms. I've been… uncomfortable, I guess."

He nudges me to encourage me to keep talking .

I shake my head to tell him it's not important. "There's no privacy. The showers are a health hazard. And my roommate is an asshole."

Gabe stiffens. "What do you mean? What is he doing? I can?—"

"No, you can't. You won't ," I say pointedly when I can see he's about to open his mouth. "I can take care of myself."

"Tiptoeing around the jerk and avoiding the place that's supposed to be your home isn't taking care of yourself." My brow furrows at the level of his perceptiveness. "Dude, I know you. We're practically brothers."

Ouch. Every time he says that, I swear it takes several years off my life.

"You can always come stay with us if you need a break for a few days. The couch is pretty comfortable, and Jimmy won't mind." Jimmy is their other roommate. He's another freshman baseball player. Elliot told me he's pretty sure he's using steroids because his face is puffy and he gets irritable.

"Yeah, I'm not sure I want to deal with your roided-out roommate or listening to whatever jocks get up to at night. That couch is right next to your room, and I can't imagine those walls are all that thick. I don't want to be subjected to listening to your conquests."

"Are you slut shaming me?" Gabe gasps.

"I absolutely am, yes."

He chuckles, and we look out over the landscape below us. From up here, it's mostly rolling green hills and the occasional mansion estate. The sprawling campus of Huntston University looks stunning with the sun beginning to set behind it. I can even see the baseball field from up here, cast in streaks of pink light.

"Speaking of slutting around…"

I snap my head up to meet Gabe's sombe r expression. "What?"

"A little birdie named Elliot told me you made a profile on Howler."

"You and your little birdie need to keep my name out of your mouths," I mumble.

He waggles his eyebrows. "Any bites?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes, I would."

"Why do you care?"

He shrugs, and it's quiet for the rest of the ride. "Just, you know, be careful. There are a lot of creeps out there," he says before we climb off the ride. If only he knew who the real creep was.

More of Gabe's team is waiting for him, all of them making wolf howling sounds in greeting. I look toward my own friends, who I'm thankful all waited for me, and roll my eyes at the dumb jocks. Ivy, Tyrell, Jamie, and Antoni all start howling, too. Sean shakes his head, but grins. I have to grin too, and cup my hands around my mouth to howl back. When I turn to look at the baseball team, who are quite a way down the fairgrounds by now, I catch Gabe's eye and feel my heart crack open at the smile he's giving me.

I'm so damn hopeless.

Many nausea-inducing rides and fifty dollars lost on fair games later, we're sitting around a picnic table watching Antoni prove he can deep-throat a giant corn dog. It's both terrifying and impressive, an opinion that seems to be shared by many passersby who also witness the display. I have probably too many questions, and I'm hyped up on the energy of these new friends and funnel cake sugar, so I just blurt them out as they come to me .

"Oh my God," Tyrell says excitedly before lowering his voice conspiratorially. " Please tell me the baby gay is a virgin."

"Baby gay?" I deadpan, unimpressed.

Tyrell gasps. "You are! It's so cute I could die," he says, fanning his face dramatically.

I roll my eyes, avoiding the question. But then I look up at all the eyes of my new friends on me.

"What?"

"Are you really?" Antoni asks, looking astonished, or maybe awed, like he's never met a virgin before.

"I wasn't… You know, out in high school. The pickings were thin."

"That hunk of man candy you stuffed yourself into that ride with didn't look so thin to me," Antoni says sarcastically.

"Gabe is very straight and very off limits. He's practically my brother."

"But you wish he wasn't," Tyrell finishes for me. My eyes widen, and I open my mouth to quickly deny, deny, deny. But my blush tells the truth before my weak denial makes it past my lips.

"Aww," Ivy coos, pressing her palm to her heart.

"Oh, my God, you guys. Stop looking at me like I'm some kind of tragic, doomed daytime drama gone wrong. It's not like that."

Ivy comes to my rescue and shifts the attention to my anonymous chat friend. That drives everyone wild. Even Sean begs to see the pictures. Tyrell jokes that maybe it's him, and then we get Sean to lift his shirt and show us his hard stomach. He's cut, but he looks nothing like the pictures Johnny sent me. First of all, Sean's chest and stomach are covered in reddish brown hair, whereas Johnny's chest and abs are glossy and smooth, with a darker brown happy trail. And Sean doesn't have those veins that make me thirsty .

"I'm not going to lie, baby gay," Tyrell says, reaching forward to lay a hand on my shoulder. "I see myself getting very invested in all of this."

"You just gestured to all of me."

Tyrell nods sagely, and I huff out a laugh. It takes me promising that not only will I come to the party tonight, but I'll let them dress me up for a night on the town in the near future, for them to move on to another topic.

The closer we get to the guy's side of the athletic dorms, the louder and messier it gets. Ivy remarks that the guys have more perks in their dorm, like a larger gym on the first floor and more options in the student Quickstop , which is set up a lot like a convenience store where they can order food. When I point out that my dorm doesn't have either of those things, or a laundry facility, and that I share a bathroom with over fifty other guys, she suggests I move in with her. Jamie corroborates Ivy's claim that she's an excellent big spoon. I roll my eyes, but I'm not going to lie, I'd probably consider it if I didn't think she'd get in trouble having me there.

The men's athletic dorm also has a large communal meeting area with a huge projector screen. This seems to be where most of the party is taking place. It's dark apart from the giant screen, which cycles through different light shows that pulse to the beat of whatever music is playing.

I don't see my brother or Gabe, but I text them to let them know I'm here before accepting a drink from Antoni and following them to sit with some of their other friends in one of the large sectionals. The drink is sweet, and my mind flashes to the last party I went to, and the taste of cinnamon on the stranger's tongue. I suppose Fireball is the liquor of choice for these types of parties. I'm not usually a drinker , but the memory keeps me sipping slowly from my cup, savoring the sweet burn.

Between my exhaustion from a full day out in the sun and the relaxation that flows through my veins like honey from the liquor, I've all but melted into the corner of the couch. The conversation has predictably turned to sports, and I've tuned everyone out when I notice him.

Gabe is leaning against a wall on the other side of the room. A girl wearing the tiniest pair of shorts I've ever seen is draped over one arm, and another girl, who could be her twin, is listening intently to whatever he's saying to another guy that I don't recognize. My eyes assess the girls, rather than focus too heavily on him. And even though there's nothing, other than maybe our attraction to Gabe, that we could possibly have in common, I still find myself making comparisons. Of course, the most obvious, glaring difference is that I have a dick. He doesn't like those. That's not something you're going to overcome, you hopeless idiot.

Why do I do this to myself? He's never going to see me the way he sees those girls.

I was fine blending into the background before, content to be around my friends and enjoy the atmosphere, but now I suddenly feel like I'm suffocating.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. Elliot lets me know he has a poker game going in their room, and that I should come up and hang. I'm about to go up just to get a change of scenery when I notice I have a message from Johnny.

JOHNNY: What are you up to tonight?

ELLISH: At a party that I don't really want to be at. Bunch of jocks and too many bad memories. You?

He ret urns my message immediately, which makes me smile.

JOHNNY: You're here.

ELLISH: What?

JOHNNY: I think we're at the same party. At the athletic dorms?

Holy shit. He's here? I sit up straight and look around the room, surveying everyone that's looking at their phone. Gabe notices me and gives me a curious look. Then, probably assuming I'm looking for my brother, he points up and mouths that Elliot is upstairs. I nod and stand.

Excusing myself from the couch, I tell my friends I'm going up to see my brother, and escape into a stairwell. There's no one in here, and other than the base of the music, it's relatively quiet.

ELLISH: Suddenly I don't mind being here after all.

JOHNNY: How fucked is it that I want to ask where you are so I can see you, but I'm not ready for you to see me?

ELLISH: I don't think I'd mind, actually.

JOHNNY: Really?

I swal low dryly. I do mean that, but I'm suddenly finding it harder to be as honest as I want to be. It's not that I wasn't aware that he's a real person, but this confirmation makes it harder to be that same level of brave where I just play off what I want rather than worry about all the other factors involved. Taking a sip of my drink for liquid courage, I force myself to type out the first thought that came to my mind when he said he was here, too.

ELLISH: How fucked is it that I want to ask you to meet me somewhere dark so I can touch you?

JOHNNY: …

The contents of my cup disappear in the several long moments he takes to respond.

JOHNNY: Room 226. The door will be unlocked. Walk straight ahead, down the hallway, second door on the left. Keep the lights off.

I stand automatically, my heart thudding louder with every step. Halfway up, I hear someone enter the stairwell below.

"Ellis?"

Fucking Gabe. Why does he have to come looking for me now? Is this some screwed up version of an angel on my shoulder, reminding me that a faceless stranger isn't what I really want? Or is it the devil reminding me that pining over a lost cause is useless, that I have a chance to get off with someone who's actually attracted to me. Well, part of me, anyway.

My shoes squeak on the last few steps as I run as quietly as I can, slipping through the stairwell door as my footsteps echo off the concrete walls. The hallway is empty, but set up so differently than my dorm, that it takes me a second longer than it should to figure out which way to go. I find the door to the room Johnny told me to go to and slip through it just as I hear the stairwell door rush open.

I press my back against the door, breathing heavily. I hear Gabe call my name again, his tone somewhere between confusion and amusement. Maybe it's just my rattled nerves and imagination, but I feel like he's loitering outside the door I'm hiding behind.

Nope, not my imagination.

He knocks lightly. "Ellis? Are you in there?"

My eyes begin to adjust to the dark room. I've been in Elliot and Gabe's dorm before, so I know what to expect. This room is on the opposite side of the hall from theirs, so the kitchenette and tiny living room are on opposite sides. There is a short hallway directly across from the door, with only two doors. Is this a one bedroom?

It's weirdly bare in here. There aren't any shoes on the shelf near the door, or any personal items lying around at all. There's a large welcome basket wrapped in cellophane on the kitchen counter, full of Huntston University merchandise.

Tip-toeing through the apartment, I turn the handle to the first door just out of curiosity. It's a small bedroom with a bed, end table, and desk. The large window lets the light from a nearby streetlamp in, making it easy to see the room clearly. Which means this next room must be…

Yep, a bathroom. There are no windows, so it's pitch black .

My phone pings just as I'm lingering in the doorway. I can still see the shadow of Gabe's feet beneath the door.

JOHNNY: There's someone in the hallway.

ELLISH: It's just a friend of my brother's. He followed me.

JOHNNY: I'll wait him out. Hang tight.

ELLISH: I take it this isn't your place?

JOHNNY: No, but I knew no one would be in there.

I hear low voices in the hallway, but I can't make out what's being said. My blood rushes in my ears, my nerves making me jittery the longer Gabe stands there and talks to someone. Is he talking to Johnny? Will Gabe chase him off? Will Gabe see him follow me into the empty apartment?

Gabe's feet disappear and I'm close to losing my nerve. Maybe I should get out now before we get caught.

In the bathroom, I splash some water on my face, wondering how smart it is to use one of the towels that was folded neatly on the small shelf above the toilet. They'll know someone was here. Will they be able to figure out it was me?

The door opens and I forget to be anxious about anything other than being in this small, enclosed space with yet another faceless stranger. It hadn't occurred to me that this could be a repeat performance. Is this going to be my thing now?

The latch clicks and my breath catches.