Chapter Two

Ethan

ETHAN SINGSONGED TO himself, "Going to the football dorm," as he swiped the screen of Justin's phone.

No password.

What a dumb ass.

Ethan frowned, disappointed by the factory wallpaper and lack of intriguing or hopefully implicating apps. The photo gallery only contained images of school notes, snapshots of what looked like football plays on a whiteboard, and a few random pictures of Justin with his teammates. Nothing shocking or questionable.

No pics that fulfilled Ethan's jockish expectations—because he so would have forwarded that shit to himself had there been. Ethan walked slower, searching. Not even a compelling Google search history. The last thing the guy had searched was: Is it farther or further? And okay , he realized he shouldn't snoop too deeply into the phone belonging to a guy who could absolutely kick his ass. Resigned, Ethan locked it back and held it with the notes.

He was keeping the badass pen because— That's the price you pay, Justin Fucking Halstead .

Ethan walked in the opposite direction of his own dorm and wondered about Justin. They'd had a few classes together; Halstead , as everyone else called him, was a somewhat popular football player. And he was a hot one compared to some of the intimidating brutes he hung out with or who were always around him. Ethan recalled reading Justin's essay last year about his love of football.

Ethan sighed.

For a guy like Ethan, the football dorm was either the stuff of really great fantasy or absolute nightmare. He stopped on the path and stared at the building housing football jocks and the subjects of a few naughty daydreams and a good healthy dose of fear. Ethan headed for the door as one of the very giants was coming out.

"Hey, can you hold that for me?" Ethan called, lifting his free hand.

"Yeah, man, who are you looking for?" the linebacker-like guy asked suspiciously, eyeing Ethan as if he knew him.

"Justin Halstead." Ethan held up the notes and phone. "He lost his stuff."

The big guy chuckled. "Typical. He's in room 214." He pointed inside. "Use those stairs; don't take the elevator."

Ethan thanked him as he let him in.

"Yeah, man, are you good?" linebacker guy asked.

Ethan nodded and headed up, so used to these responses to him now. It no longer bothered him when people got weird and overprotective around him. It happened constantly, even with people like this guy, who didn't even know him. They just knew of him .

Ethan knocked on the door of 214, and Justin opened it and stepped back to let him in. Justin had on the same thing he'd been wearing in the library but was now barefoot. Ethan forced his eyes to Justin's face. But Justin just stood there, holding on to the open door and unblinking.

Deer in the headlights.

Justin was acting a bit strange. Ethan assessed him as Justin let out a nervous-sounding laugh, swiped a hand across his forehead, and wiped it on his thigh.

"Thanks for bringing them," Justin said and motioned to a couch in front of a television and game system. "You want to come in?"

Okay , Justin was being weird. Ethan waved the notes and phone and then extended his hand, holding them out expectantly.

"Uh, yeah," Justin said, not taking them. "I thought you might want to go over the practice quiz questions?" Then he pointed inside with two shakes of his finger at the couch.

Ethan frowned; it seemed as if Justin wasn't breathing normally. Knowing it was likely the stupidest thing he could do—crossing this particular threshold—Ethan found himself standing in front of Justin's couch as directed.

"Are you all right?" Ethan asked.

Justin shut and locked the door. He sucked in a breath, let it out, and then laughed awkwardly.

"Yeah, sorry." Justin indicated the couch and table again, where books and more notes were strewn about as if he'd been trying to study.

With another glance at the solo study session happening on the coffee table, Ethan pulled off his backpack, sat down, and laid the papers and phone on the table. Suddenly, he felt guilty about his behavior in the library as his eyes took in the array and uncapped highlighters. He'd seen and could hear just how noisy Justin's dorm was beyond the locked door.

"Sorry we were being so loud, and you had to leave the library. We felt bad—well, for at least a second. It's really loud here. Now, I do feel bad."

"Nah, it's no big deal," Justin said. "I'm glad you heard my phone."

"You know, you should password-protect it." Ethan unzipped his bag and pulled out his notes from study group. Maybe if he ran through what the group had come up with and helped Justin, he could eliminate the guilty feeling.

"There's nothing on that thing; that's, like, my fourth one." Justin laughed nervously and didn't make eye contact, which was even weirder. "They don't last long with me." Justin sat and held out his hand for Ethan's notes.

Ethan handed them over, and Justin spread the notes out, leaning over to compare answers. Ethan took the opportunity while Justin was distracted to look around. Everything was neat and tidy, but there wasn't much in the guy's room—a lame mass-produced football equipment poster on the wall and a framed picture of Justin with his parents at his graduation. What did impress Ethan was a bookshelf jammed tight with books.

"Mind if I look at your books?" Ethan asked and stood so Justin wouldn't say no. Justin only nodded as he copied down something from Ethan's pages.

"Yeah, man, and the bathroom is there, and there's water and beer in the fridge," Justin said.

Ethan grabbed himself and Justin water and set Justin's down on the coffee table. He headed for the bookshelf and drank as he eyed each row, tilting his head at the sideways crammed-in titles. He was impressed by several classics, some high fantasy, sports memoirs, and the many literature textbooks. Those looked well-worn and older. A few banned titles also stood out—definitely not reads currently available on the campus bookstore shelves.

"Are you a lit major?" Ethan asked.

"Yeah," Justin said, seeming slightly less strange now. "Those were my mom's. She teaches English and literature in high school back home." Justin turned back to copying notes.

"Huh." Ethan continued to study each shelf. Satisfied that this guy was not what he'd imagined, Ethan returned and sat down. He remembered Justin's essay had been well-written, with few errors, making Ethan's editing work easy. It had been one of those "swap essays and workshop your classmate's story" assignments.

"I got a different answer for twenty-three," Justin said, pointing it out but still not making eye contact. "I think this one is ‘sedimentary.'"

Ethan checked it and then reached into his bag for his textbook. "Let's see."

And that's how he spent the next two hours in Justin Halstead's room. They found several other questions with issues and conflicting answers but worked through them. Over those two hours, Justin somewhat relaxed, but something was off about the guy to Ethan. He couldn't put his finger on it and hoped the dude wasn't on Adderall or illegal script drugs students sometimes took. He came across as fidgety and uncomfortable.

Justin seemed to have several repetitive nervous habits. He'd rub a single finger behind his ear, scratch back and forth lightly at the hairline on his forehead, and crack his neck and knuckles. The red spot behind his ear had now seeped down the side of his neck in a faint streak. Ethan briefly wondered if Justin was nervous. But, no, that couldn't be it.

"I'll send out a text to the group since we got these wrong," Ethan said. He swiped his screen and tapped a text. He hit send, leaned in, and stared at Justin to make him look back at him. "Want me to add you to our study group text chain?"

"Sure," Justin said with a single quick glance, still avoiding, and told Ethan his number.

Justin picked up his phone as it buzzed, tapped in Ethan's name, and saved the new contact. Sensing the study sesh was about to conclude, Ethan closed his book and reclined on Justin's couch.

"Seriously, how do you study here?" Ethan asked, voicing his previous concern. "Damn, now I'm genuinely sorry we were so loud in the library."

"Nah, man, it's fine. It's not like this in your dorm?" Justin fidgeted with a pen similar to the one Ethan had stolen. So, no, Ethan wouldn't feel an ounce of guilt over the minor transfer of ownership.

"No, not at all. I'm in Lawson; it's super quiet. Come study there if you want." Ethan scribbled down his room number on the corner of Justin's notebook page. "We have a study lounge, and it's all single suites."

"Yeah, how'd you manage that?" Justin asked, but Ethan was sure he already knew; everyone knew.

"The university decided it was best to put me there, in the graduate dorm," Ethan said and swallowed. "After what happened last year."

Justin nodded as if he remembered the incident. "I'm sorry that happened to you." This time, he did look at Ethan. Now, Ethan could see Justin's eyes weren't red, and the pupils weren't dilated, but they held a "look." It wasn't pity he saw staring back at him. Ethan blinked, then allowed his mental Zamboni to clean that ice and those impossible ideas flooding his mind right out of his rink.

Ethan shrugged it off. "It's done. They're gone—I got outed—and they gave me a private room."

Justin narrowed his eyes at the evident scar that ran from the corner of Ethan's eyebrow to his ear, and Justin's jaw clenched; the skin on his left cheek ticked.

Ethan reached up and rubbed at the scar that disappeared into his hair a few more inches. "They got charged. It's all over now."

"I'm still sorry that happened to you. I wish…" Justin shook his head. "Yeah, so, the next quiz. It is tough to study here." Justin snapped a picture of the room number Ethan had written on the paper. He glanced at the wall clock and then at his door.

Ethan knew this dorm had major curfew rules and began gathering his things; it was time to go.

"Hey man, did you get your phone back?" asked Shawn from the suite's shared bathroom door. "Oh hey, man." He gave Ethan a dude-bro head nod. Everyone knew Shawn, an eye-candy ladies' man who undoubtedly had a few homecoming king crowns under his belt. Though glancing again at Justin, Ethan knew who he would have voted for—the quiet prince over a rowdy king.

"Yeah, Ethan found it at the library," Justin said, and he and Shawn waited as Ethan put his books and notes in his bag and zipped it up.

"Thanks again for sharing the notes," Justin said, standing from the couch.

"No problem." Ethan shouldered his backpack and turned for the door.

"Hang on, I'll walk you out," Justin offered.

"That's okay. I'm good." Ethan nodded at Shawn as he passed by.

"You doing all right?" Shawn asked him.

"Yeah, I am. Thanks for asking. See ya." And Ethan was out and down the stairs.