Chapter 12

TWELVE

On Wednesday night, Briar wasn't at supper. I waited until afterward to go see if he was okay or if he maybe wanted to study together. I knocked on his bedroom door, and when he opened it, he had a long black peacoat slung over his arm. His hair was teased into a wild, dramatic style, he was wearing eyeliner and lip gloss, and he was dressed in a fitted navy cable-knit sweater, black jeans, and Doc Martens.

"What do you want?" he asked, his body blocking the doorway. "I have somewhere to be."

Huh. He hadn't mentioned going out when we'd had lunch together, but that didn't mean anything. Briar stored information like a doomsday prepper hoarded ammunition, and he was about as eager to share it. "You look nice. Where are you going?"

"Out." He stepped into the hallway and started walking toward the stairwell.

I hurried to catch up. Dating Briar seemed to consist of a whole lot of me trying to catch up, honestly. I followed him downstairs. "I was just wondering if you wanted to get together and study."

He stopped on the first-floor landing, turning to face me. "You don't want to study with me. It would be a waste of time. You've already taken my classes."

"I haven't taken the LSAT though, and you have."

His brows pulled together, and his mouth tightened into a thin line. Then his phone pinged, and he pulled it from his back pocket, checking the screen. His expression smoothed out. "My ride's here." He shrugged into his coat and after a moment's hesitation, leaned in and kissed my cheek. "I might come by your room later?"

"Yeah," I said, my throat tight. "I'd like that."

He clattered down the stairs and out the door before I had a chance to follow him and see who he was meeting.

Not that I was planning to because that would be weird and stalkery. Briar didn't have to check in with me before he made plans, and it was none of my business who he was meeting up with.

Except I couldn't stop thinking about that text from the weekend. Free for dinner this week?

Briar had lied about the text, I knew. But then again, we hadn't been actual boyfriends at that time. And let's be real, we'd both been pretty fucked out at the time, so maybe it hadn't been the right moment to get into a conversation about who was texting him.

And maybe it was none of my damn business, and I should stop freaking out over nothing.

I took a deep breath and went back downstairs and found Marty. He was lying on the couch in one of the smaller living areas with Squirrel sprawled next to him. He sat up when he saw me. "Hey, bro." He looked past me. "Is your boo okay? He missed supper."

I tried to imagine what Briar would do if I tried calling him my boo. Smother me in my sleep, probably. I slumped down into an overstuffed armchair. "He's gone out."

"Oh, okay." Marty petted Squirrel, and the dog stirred and jumped off the couch before sitting directly in front of Marty and staring at him intently. "Hey, boy, you need a walk?" Squirrel's tail thumped against the floorboards, and Marty said, "You wanna come walk Squirrel with me?"

The idea of getting out of the house was actually pretty appealing right now, so I nodded and went to get my hoodie while Marty wrestled the dog into a fancy-ass dog coat made of fabric that had the Alpha Tau logo in a repeating pattern all over it. The coat had appeared out of nowhere when the weather first started to turn cold. Scout had never admitted it, but the coat had to have been custom-made, so we were all pretty sure it came from him.

I stuffed my hands into the pocket of my hoodie, and we meandered along under the streetlights in comfortable silence for a while, taking our time so that Squirrel could sniff around the bases of all the trees. Hanging out with Marty and breathing in the cool night air helped get me out of my thoughts, and I relaxed as we made our way along Fraternity Row.

"Where's Dalton tonight?" I asked.

Marty gave an easy shrug. "Studying doctor stuff with a couple of guys from his biology class. They have a big test coming up. Hey, did you know the human body has 206 bones?"

"Um, no?"

"Well, it does. I've learned some hella interesting stuff dating a future doctor." He paused so Squirrel could take a leak. "Hey, did you and Briar ever start studying for the LSAT?"

I ducked my head and examined the shadows the lights were casting on the sidewalk. "Not exactly. Briar's schedule's been kind of hard to pin down."

"Huh." Marty didn't say anything else, but we'd been roommates for long enough that I knew a loaded huh when I heard one.

"What?"

Marty shrugged as we continued walking. "Just, it's real weird that he stopped mentioning the LSAT as soon as he got into the fraternity. Like, if I had a score like his, you couldn't get me to shut up about it. And have you noticed that he never gives a straight answer when you ask him something?"

"Yeah," I said slowly. I didn't want to have this conversation, but at the same time, I felt like I needed to. Marty was pretty good at seeing things other people didn't, so maybe talking to him would help me figure out if I was expecting too much from Briar, or if there was something I was missing. "I guess since he got burned pretty bad at his last college, he's extra cautious."

Marty raised his eyebrows. "Bro. There's cautious, and there's whatever the hell Briar's deal is. And I like Briar, don't get me wrong, and Squirrel likes him too, so that's a mark in his favor, but you know something in the milk ain't clean."

I released a long breath. "You're not helping my paranoia, Marty."

"Yeah, but is it paranoia if it's true? Because when it comes to anyone asking about his grades and the LSAT, Briar's slipperier'n a well lubed dick. And let me tell you, that's plenty slippery. He's hiding something."

Marty wasn't wrong. Briar ducked and dodged with all the skill of an inveterate liar. And sure, if he'd spent half his life pretending to be someone he wasn't, it made sense that he'd be reluctant to share all the parts of himself. But that didn't explain why he got so prickly every time someone mentioned something as innocuous as his college courses.

We reached the end of the row and crossed the street for the walk back, and I let out a sigh.

"I know he's lying to me," I admitted, "but not about anything I can call him out on. Because it's none of my business to start with. Besides, he has a good reason for us not studying together. He said it didn't make sense because I'm ahead of him."

Even as I said it, I wasn't buying it—and neither was Marty.

"Well that's bullshit for a start," he said. "Because he has that awesome LSAT insider knowledge, and you'd think he'd be happy to share. Plus, Dalton and I aren't even in the same courses, but we still study together, which is how I get to learn about bones and stuff. Of course, he also sucks my dick to keep my grades up, so, y'know. Maybe suggest that as a sweetener."

I snorted despite myself. "Not everything's about dick, Marty."

"No, but dick's pretty great, right?" His eyes twinkled under the streetlights, and his mouth curved into a grin. "Like, it's the best. Tell me I'm wrong."

My cheeks heated at the memory of Briar licking his cum off my face, all filthy-sweet, and despite my unease over what Briar wasn't telling me, a dumb smile spread over my face. "You're not wrong."

"Oh, man," Marty said, his grin widening. "You're totally gone on your pretty pledge."

"Shut up," I said.

"That's not a no," Marty observed—and that right there was why he was going to win all his future cases and why I'd end up doing deceased estates and conveyancing. "You like him a lot."

"Yeah," I said. "I do."

The question was, did Briar feel the same? Or was he playing me for some reason?

Some of what I was thinking must have shown on my face because Marty bumped shoulders with me in silent sympathy. Then he stopped in his tracks. "Oh, hey! I know! Remember how when Dalton and me started dating, you sat him down and threatened to hunt him to the ends of the earth and torture him until his soul left his body if he treated me bad?"

"I did not threaten to?—"

"Anyway," Marty barreled on, excitement gleaming in his eyes the way it did when he was having one of his really terrible ideas. "I could do that to Briar! Like, I'd sit him down in the executive office, like I'm the godfather or something, and be all ‘Hey, my dude Casey is the best dude, and I need to know what you're hiding from him,' or some shit like that. And then I'll stare him down until he cracks."

"Jesus, Marty, no. You are not interrogating my boyfriend." I shuddered at the thought of how Briar would react.

"Why not?"

"Because if you corner Briar and ask him personal shit, he's likely to get mad enough that he'd rip your arm off and beat you with it."

"Nah. He's probably only a hundred pounds soaking wet. I could take him."

I sighed and ran a hand down my face. "Remember the time that squirrel got mad at you and bit you?"

Marty grimaced. "Yeah. I still have a scar."

"Now imagine Briar's that squirrel, only the squirrel is angry."

Marty stared into the distance for a second, brow creased, before he said, "Oh," in a small voice. "Maybe I won't do that, then."

"Yeah, good call. I'll figure it out, I guess. And hey," I said with a confidence I didn't quite feel, "maybe he's not hiding anything. Maybe he's just bad at talking. And feelings. And dating."

Marty flung one arm across my shoulders and squeezed me tight against his side as we walked up the driveway of Alpha Tau. "For the record, whatever Briar's deal is, he's totally into you."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. Haven't you noticed the way he watches you when he thinks nobody's looking? He gets this real dumb little smile. It's like he can't believe you're for real, you know?"

I did know, and I felt the same way—like Briar was too good to be true, and if I blinked, he'd disappear in a cloud of glitter and sarcasm.

I smiled as I thought of him in his stockings and lip gloss.

Marty was right. Whatever my doubts about Briar were, one thing was certain.

I was completely gone on him.

I was stillawake when the bedroom door cracked open, and light spilled in from the hallway a little after ten that night. I rolled over and saw Briar silhouetted against the door, and something settled in my chest. "Hey," I said quietly.

Briar took a step inside the room. "Were you waiting up for me?"

I kept my tone light. "Well, yeah."

"Checking up on me?" The way he asked suggested that there was a right and a wrong answer, and I'd better choose carefully.

I propped myself on my elbows and flicked on the bedside lamp. "Briar, when my pretty boyfriend promises to come visit me, you'd better believe I'm staying awake."

I pulled the comforter back and patted the mattress, and Briar's mouth quirked into a tentative smile.

There was a soft thumping sound on the floor as he closed the distance between the door and my bed—Squirrel's tail hitting the floor as he wagged it in welcome. In the bed across from mine, Marty was crashed out and breathing deeply and steadily. At least he wasn't snorting and snuffling tonight.

Briar sat down on my mattress and began to unlace his boots.

I put a hand on the small of his back, just because it was nice to touch him. I wanted to ask how his night had been, but that felt like it was skirting dangerously close to "Where have you been?" and "Who were you with?" and a hundred other questions that would make him bristle like a wet cat. I liked Briar a lot. I didn't like the way I felt insecure with him as my boyfriend. When we'd taken that step, it was supposed to settle the uncertainty in me, right? Not bring it into even sharper relief.

Briar took his boots off and stood up for long enough to peel his jeans down his legs. Then he lay beside me, facing me, and pulled the comforter up over our heads. He squirmed closer and kissed me. I'd thought he was going for a "Hi, I missed you, now let's go to sleep" kind of a kiss, but that wasn't what I got at all. What I got was slow, filthy, and raised the temperature in our little comforter cave by about six million degrees in seconds.

"I'm not having sex with Marty in the room," I whispered to him.

Briar made an unhappy sound and slid a hand down my side, fingertips skating against the elastic of my boxers. Then he squirmed against me again, and I was pretty sure it was intentional. "We can be quiet."

"No way," I said. "I can't afford the cake, Briar."

"What?"

"Marty and Dalton thought they could be quiet too," I told him. "Marty bought me an apology cake. It had ‘I'm sorry you heard me getting railed' on it."

Briar's body shook against me as he laughed. "Was it at least a nice cake?"

"Yeah, but not nice enough that it was worth it."

Briar stroked his fingers along my hip and leaned in and kissed me again. Snagged my bottom lip with his teeth and bit me with just enough pressure that every nerve in my body lit up. "Are you sure?"

"Bro," Marty said sleepily from the other side of the room, "I promise I won't listen."

Briar froze, as wide-eyed as a raccoon caught in a porch light with his paws inside a trash can.

I laughed and pushed the comforter off us. I nudged Briar toward the edge of the mattress, which, given it was a twin, wasn't that far away at all. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

I pulled a pair of sweatpants over my boxer briefs but didn't bother with shoes or a shirt. It wasn't like we were going outside. Briar tugged his jeans back on and fumbled over by my nightstand with his boots.

"Just leave them there," I said.

He looked at Squirrel, looked at his boots, looked back at Squirrel again and then set his boots on top of the nightstand.

"Night," Marty said around a yawn as we left the room.

"How about your room?" I asked, nodding in the direction of the stairs.

Briar shook his head. "Charlie always studies late."

"Okay," I said and caught him by the hand. I led him down the stairs instead of up. At first Briar wore a puzzled look, like he was wondering why the hell I was taking him into the part of the house most likely to have guys hanging around, but when we got to the basement door, he started to smile.

I opened the door and headed down the stairs.

The lights were on, and both Jameses were sitting on the floor with papers spread out between them.

"Urgent fraternity business," I said. "I need this space."

"Urgent fraternity business?" James asked. "At this time of night?"

"You can either choose to believe me, James Two, or this fraternity can go back to having just one James, which would honestly be much less confusing for everyone."

I was only kidding, and by his snort and his grin he knew it, but he and James One started packing their shit up. I watched them, hands folded over my chest like I was being their hardass pledge master all over again, and Briar wandered over to the wall to look at the old photographs there.

"Have a good night," James One said.

"Good luck with the urgent fraternity business," James Two added.

The stairs creaked as they headed up them, and a moment before the door closed behind them, they began to laugh.

Briar darted up the stairs behind them, and I heard the lock click into place.

"That's, um, a little embarrassing," I said.

Briar shrugged as he rejoined me in the basement. "Why? We could be doing nothing, and they'd still tell everyone we were getting down and dirty, so we might as well get down and dirty, right?"

When he put it like that, it made perfect sense.

Still, I wasn't expecting it when he walked me backward to one of the old sagging armchairs and pushed me into it. I landed with enough force that my feet briefly left the floor, and Briar didn't waste any time, straddling my lap and leaning down to kiss me.

I closed my eyes and went with it, letting my hands slide over the curve of his ass as the kiss heated up. Briar's knees sank into the cushion, but I barely noticed him getting heavier because he started to grind against me, the denim of his jeans rasping against the soft fabric of my sweatpants.

I groaned against his mouth, and he nipped my bottom lip. He pulled back just far enough to whisper in my ear, "Can I ride you?"

My eyes snapped open—and I found myself looking into the steely gaze of Albert Watford III, 1924 fraternity president, as his portrait glared at me silently.

Talk about a mood killer.

"Wait." I gave Briar a gentle shove.

His brow creased, but he moved off me, standing with his arms folded over his chest like he was offended or something. When I stood and took the portrait down, though, he started to laugh. He was still laughing when I turned Albert to face the wall. "What? I can feel him judging me," I said, but I was laughing too.

"Do we need to move them all?" Briar asked, waving an arm at the portraits.

I settled back in the armchair to check. "Nah, just that guy."

Briar shook his head, his mouth still curved into a smile, and then pulled his sweater off. He unzipped his jeans and shimmied out of them, along with his boxers. He was already half hard, and he curled his fingers around his dick and started jerking himself off so openly that I almost blushed on his behalf. Then my brain caught up, and I remembered that this wasn't high school baseball camp, and Briar actually wanted me to watch him.

He was so hot.

I slid my sweatpants down and wrapped a hand around my own dick. "How—how is this gonna work?"

Briar blinked at me. "Oh, um, you've never done?—"

"I mean." I cleared my throat. "Yeah, I have, but not with a guy. That's not what I was talking about though. I mean like lube and a condom and stuff."

"Oh, I got that covered." He bent down and dug around in his discarded clothes. "I stole some from your nightstand when I was putting my boots out of the dog's reach."

"You're so fucking smart."

He grinned. "Someone's gotta be."

My laugh was drowned by the flood of heat that swept over me as Briar straddled me again. He held the condom between his lips as he fiddled with the lube. How the fuck was I going to kiss him unless I took it out? I reached out and pulled the condom free and set it on the arm of the chair. But when I went in for a kiss, Briar dodged me, then straightened up and shifted his weight backward. It wasn't until he moved his glistening fingers around behind himself that I realized what he was doing.

He bit his lower lip, his gaze dark and heavy as he stared down at me. "Feel free to play with my tits while I do this, Casey."

A jolt of lust—and shock—went through me. But never let it be said that I couldn't take a hint. I leaned forward and mouthed at his nipple, and I must have been doing it right because he let out a gasp, and a shudder ran through him.

At first, I thought the wet heat against my abdomen meant he'd come already, but when I pulled back to look, it was precum. It was a lot. He was so hot for this—for me.

I teased at one nipple with my teeth while rolling the other between my thumb and forefinger and pinching lightly, drinking up the noises he made and the way he arched into my touch.

"Okay," he said, breathless. "Okay. Condom."

I tore the wrapper open with shaking hands and fumbled the condom on. I hadn't been this uncoordinated with a condom since I was thirteen years old and in an awkward conversation with my dad that involved a banana. I was nervous and excited all at once, and it felt like a miracle I got it on without putting my thumb through it.

No, scratch that.

The miracle was when Briar grabbed my dick to hold it steady, lifted himself up onto his knees and then sank slowly onto my dick. His eyes fluttered shut, and his mouth fell open as his tight heat clenched around me. He let out a small, shocked sound, then eased himself down farther, engulfing me in satiny soft flesh that had my cock throbbing.

"Mmm," he said. He opened his eyes. "Yeah."

Which pretty much summed it up, I guessed, and was more than I was capable of saying in the moment.

Briar held my gaze and then squirmed a little, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. And then, probably because I shuddered, he lifted the corners of his mouth in a wicked smile and squeezed.

A whine left my throat, and his smile widened.

"Do you like that, Casey? Being inside me?" He clenched around my cock, and it was all I could do not to come on the spot. It was probably only the lingering spirit of Albert Watford III that stopped me. Who needed to run through all the state capitals when Albert and his silent judgment were in the room?

"I love it," I managed to say, my fingers finding his hips in what might have been a vain attempt to pretend I was even a little bit in charge of setting our pace here.

Briar wasn't fooled. He put his hands on my shoulders to steady himself and started to bounce, letting out little gasps every time he sank down on my cock. He set a fast pace, and the way my dick felt sinking into the heat of him was fucking phenomenal. I gave up any semblance of control and just went with it. I started to thrust up on the downstrokes, and I must have aimed right because Briar released a breathless moan and clenched down hard.

Not even Albert Watford III could stop me then.

"Jesus, Briar! I'm—" And before I could finish saying it, I already had.

Briar tilted his head back, the light gleaming on the sweat on his throat, and reached a hand between us. He jerked himself off, still clenching around me, and I sucked a mark on his shoulder, because something about Briar apparently brought out my animal instincts.

Briar came, hot and messy all over us both, and then sagged forward and put his head on my shoulder. I ran my hands up and down his back. His muscles twitched as aftershocks worked their way through him.

And then, abruptly, he let out a weird giggle snort.

"What?" I asked, my voice rasping.

"You know how I said I was prepared?"

"Yeah."

He leaned back so he could look me in the eye. "I didn't bring a towel, and I think we're gonna need one." He widened his eyes as my gaze went to the floor, and he slapped me on the chest. "No! That's my favorite sweater! We can use your pants."

At that point he could have suggested mopping up with my mom's wedding dress, and I wouldn't have complained. "Okay, we'll use my pants."

Disengaging was slippery and messy. Putting on my sweatpants after Briar had wiped us both off was gross. Slipping the used condom into the pocket was even grosser, but not gross enough that I wouldn't do it again. But the most surprising part of the process was when Briar didn't immediately bail and instead pushed me back down into the chair again and climbed on top of me to cuddle.

To cuddle.

Briar.

If the sex hadn't short-circuited my brain entirely, this would have. He rested his head on my shoulder. I couldn't resist running my fingers through the riotous mess of his hair, smoothing out the snarls and tangles. I half expected him to tell me to stop petting him like a dog, but he gave a contented hum and leaned into my touch. When I wrapped an arm around his back and pulled him closer, he didn't object to that either.

Maybe mine wasn't the only brain that had short-circuited.

We sat there for a while, and I enjoyed the weight of Briar's body against mine and pondered what it meant that he'd chosen to curl up against me like a contented kitten. It felt like we'd turned a corner or something, and he was starting to trust me.

I hoped so, anyway.

"So," I said quietly, "did you have a good time tonight?"

"Do you mean here, or in general?"

"In general." I waited for him to stiffen up, but he didn't.

"It was good."

He didn't say anything else, and neither did I. Instead, I kept my arms around him and enjoyed our closeness. If Briar had his secrets, they were his business until he decided he wanted to share them.

Because if he was starting to trust me, and I thought he was, then the least I could do was trust him in return.