Chapter 1

CHAPTER

ONE

SCOUT

T reyvon Montgomery was not my ideal choice for a roommate. The guy was a complete killjoy. But when Marshall Tate, our chapter president, was reassigning rooms, I got a sneak peek at the list since I was chapter treasurer.

"Marty?" I said. "No. Nuh uh. Not in a million years, Marshall. Why can't I have Archer?"

"I've already got Archer and Andrew together," he said. "I could move Casey..."

"Move Casey," I said. "Move Casey in with Marty. I'll take a freshman. Hell, I'll even take Trey . Just don't put me with Marty. I will give you cash money if you put me with anyone else in this house."

"Okay," he said. "Jesus, Scout. Fine. I'll put you in with Trey."

Look, Trey was a great guy. But he took his duties as House Manager very seriously. He'd probably have me up in front of the chapter's Standards Committee if I left a wet towel on the floor. But—and I could not emphasize this enough—it would still be less stressful rooming with him than with Marty O'Brien .

My new room was on the third floor of Alpha Tau House. I didn't mind the extra set of stairs, especially since my new room, unlike my old one, wasn't right above the big living room. No more trying to study, or sleep, with thirty guys underneath me yelling at a game on TV. The room was exactly like my last one, down to the gray walls with the slightly darker gray and soft green accents. It sounded grim, but it was actually nice. It had a sort of Hamptons vibe going on, and it was a nice break from the rest of the house, which was all polished wood and dark furniture and reminded me too much of my father's judicial chambers to ever feel like I could fully relax.

When I moved my stuff into my new room, it was to discover that Trey had already claimed the bed by the window. Which was fine, I reminded myself. At least he wasn't Marty. The books and papers spread out over his desk attested to that. I doubted Marty had seen his textbooks since registration week.

"Hey," he said, entering the room when I was unpacking. "You cool with that bed?"

"Yeah," I said. "It's no problem."

"Cool," he said.

And, just like that, we were roomies.

Like, I wish I could say that we became buddies overnight or something, but that's not really what happened. We were brothers, in the Alpha Tau sense, but I didn't know Trey very well. Or it might be more accurate to say that he didn't know me very well. Nobody did. Bax, my brother, called me a prickly asshole, and he was right. I had friends. I had plenty of friends, because I had money and I knew how to spend it to have fun. I could plan a party like nobody's business. I could turn up and look good at any event on the social calendar, whether it was a political fundraiser, a debutante ball, or a lakeside kegger. But I didn't exactly have buddies I shot the shit with, you know? I'd spend plenty of nights sitting around with my Alpha Tau brothers listening to them go back and forth for hours, where my role was to interject with some sarcastic, flippant response. Not the comic relief guy—that was, unintentionally, Marty—but the snarky sidekick or something, I guess. It was cool. I'd never been a fan of wearing my heart on the sleeve of my favorite Southern Tide Charleston blazer.

Anyway, rooming with Trey was fine. I didn't leave wet towels on the floor, and he didn't listen to music without headphones, so it worked.

"Studying again?" he asked one night when he came upstairs after dinner.

I stretched, my back aching from sitting hunched over my desk for so long. "Yeah. I'll go downstairs if the light's gonna bother you."

"It's fine." He crossed over to his closet. Opened it, and reached in to grab his sleep pants. The gray pair. "I never see you study downstairs much."

"I prefer to study alone."

"I get it." He smiled. "It can get loud down there."

"No kidding." I turned my attention back to my textbook while, in my periphery, Trey got his stuff together for his shower.

"What are you working on?"

"Just doing some LSAT practice."

"You're taking your LSAT this year?"

"No, next year. I'm just getting some practice in."

He hummed. "Good for you, man. I guess that answers the question though."

I turned to look at him. "What question?"

"Why you never date."

"Why is that even a question? Also, I date ."

"Apparently the girls from Zeta Tau have a list of the most eligible single guys on campus. You're on it. Congratulations!" He grinned. "Except the word on the street—or the word with the Zeta Taus—is that you're impossible to catch."

I pulled a face.

"And when's the last time you dated anyway?" He gave me a second, and then snorted. "If you can't remember, it's been too long."

I raised my eyebrows. "I could pick up my phone and get a date in thirty seconds if I wanted." I just had to call Zeta Tau, apparently. "I have..."

"You're going to say binders of women, aren't you?"

"Fuck off." I laughed, despite myself. "I was going to say I have options . But, frankly, I can't be bothered dating right now. I have more important things to do."

"Like studying for a test you don't have to take for another year?"

"When did you last go on a date then?" I challenged.

He laughed too. "You got me. It's been a while. Don't worry, the guys were talking about that too."

I rolled my eyes. "Alpha Tau is supposed to be a brotherhood, not a middle school girls' sleepover party."

"There's less difference than you'd think."

I leaned back in my chair. "You an expert on middle school sleepovers?"

"I have a little sister. I'm more familiar than I want to be."

I could just imagine Trey sighing and rolling his eyes as he told a bunch of little girls not to leave crumbs on the couch, and to pick up their Barbies before bed. But then he surprised me by saying, "They're not all that bad, my sister's friends. And I'm pretty sure I won best brother award when I let them paint my nails last time."

I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?" I tried to picture Trey with a nice glossy coat of glitter sparkle polish, and couldn't quite do it.

"Yeah," he grinned. "I look amazing in purple, I'll have you know." He extended a hand, showing off slender fingers and nicely shaped nails.

Okay, maybe I could l picture it after all. "Huh."

"What about you?" he asked. "Is Bax your only sibling? "

I really was a closed book to my brothers, wasn't I? Okay, so I probably should have gotten more involved in "bonding"—mental air quotes absolutely intended—but have you seen how fraternity brothers bond? It's all sports and beer and raucousness. And now I sounded like someone's uptight maiden aunt. I wasn't, I swear. I liked people. Sometimes. With caveats. Why couldn't we all just make peace with the fact that every group needs a sarcastic, standoffish introvert to balance things out, and leave it at that?

"Yep. Just me and Bax. Bax Three and me. No number."

"Scout singular."

"As you've so kindly pointed out, yes. Very singular."

He laughed. "Well, we're in the same boat, man."

"But not because I don't have options," I reminded him.

"No," he agreed. "You're top of the Zeta Taus' list."

"As I should be." I spun my pen a few times. "It's just a hassle, you know? All that getting to know someone, and being a gentleman, and taking so fucking long to get anywhere, and by the time you get to falling into bed, she's already making noise about engagement parties, you know?"

Trey's eyebrows shot up. "No. But then, my daddy doesn't own half the state of Virginia."

"He doesn't own half the state."

Trey stared at me, and I knew what he was going to say.

"Okay, fine, he's influential. Anyway, that's not the point, the point is…" What was the point again? Oh, right. Dating. "The point is, I'm not interested in a girlfriend right now."

Trey shrugged. "No shade, man. Like I say, I'm the same. I'm here to get a degree, not find the future Mrs. Judge Montgomery."

"Oh, it's Judge Montgomery?"

"Damn straight."

"That would be a first for the Commonwealth of Virginia," I said as he grabbed his bundle of shower stuff and headed towards the door .

He paused, one hand on the door knob. "There have been Black judges before, Scout."

"Well, yeah," I said with a grin. "But not ones who rock purple painted nails."

Trey threw back his head and laughed as he walked away.

Yeah, there were worse guys to room with, that was for sure.

I blamed my asshole fraternity brothers and their speculation about my dating life for why the next few weeks were living hell. I hadn't been laid in months, and it shouldn't have mattered, because I had two hands and a heartbeat. But damn , ever since Trey and I had talked, I'd found myself missing having a girlfriend instead of just a firm grip and a knowledge of exactly what I liked. I even took to walking the long way back from classes some afternoons, taking the scenic route past Zeta Tau House, just to grin at the girls and see who might be interested, and if I was interested back.

Then my brother Bax ruined everything by getting engaged.

"You'll be next," my mother told me when she called to share the news. She didn't sound very excited, but few things outside of an invitation to Holiday Dinner at the White House excited my mother. "You'll have to bring her to the wedding, of course."

"Bring who to the wedding?"

"Your girlfriend," my mother said. "Your father and I will want to meet her, and make sure she's suitable."

"I don't have a girlfriend," I said, and swore to myself then and there not to walk past the Zeta Taus again. None of the girls there had sparked my interest, and even if I just took a girl as a casual plus one, my parents would be auditioning her for Future Mrs. Scout Talbot-Smith, and before you knew it, her parents and mine would be country club buddies. They'd meet up every week over drinks, where our fathers would hash out prenups, and our mothers would make lists of baby names, and they'd have our entire joint future planned out before I'd even touched her tits, probably. "I'm not seeing anyone."

My mother let out a tiny, disapproving sound and then changed the subject onto potential wedding venues, much to my relief.

But after she'd ended the call, I found myself wondering how long before she brought it up again. My mother was nothing if not determined that the Talbot-Smiths be seen to do ‘the right thing.' And in this case, ‘the right thing' was dating a girl from the right family. And I liked girls, don't get me wrong, and I liked sex just fine. But I didn't crave it, and usually I got off just fine on my own. Except now, that stupidly didn't feel like enough , which meant my balls were as blue as the blood of any of the girls at Zeta Tau, and I was cranky as all hell.

I tossed my phone onto the mattress, and it bounced and slid down the tiny gap between the bed and the wall. "Goddamit," I muttered. I rolled onto my stomach so I was lying sideways across the bed with my legs stretched out behind me and reached down into the small space, groping blindly.

My fingers brushed my phone case, and I took a minute to figure out the shape of it before carefully grasping the corner between my finger and thumb and easing it upward. It was awkward as fuck and it took three tries to get a decent grip. I sighed and tried again, and this time I made it halfway up the wall before it slipped and clattered to the floor again. "Fuck!"

"Should I ask?"

I reared up at the unexpected voice, turning my head to find Trey watching me from the doorway. "Dropped my damn phone and I can't get a grip."

"Move over."

I shuffled over and Trey dropped next to me on the bed and shimmied across the comforter on his belly, his movements fluid and graceful as he rolled his hips to inch himself forward. I wondered fleetingly why he wasn't top of the Zeta Tau most eligible bachelor list. He reached down into the small gap and pulled my phone out in one smooth move, presenting it to me on his palm. "There you go."

"Thanks." I took it, our hands brushing together. Trey's skin was warm and smooth against my own, and wow, how needy was I that a fleeting touch was enough to remind me all over again how I missed someone else putting their hands on me? "How long were you watching anyway?"

"Long enough. It was kinda fun watching you fish for it with those bear paws of yours, though."

I held my hand up. "They're not bear paws. They're normal sized."

"Sure, brother bear," Trey said grinning. He pushed himself upright and stood, reaching a hand out. "You coming downstairs? Executive meeting starts in ten."

Trey wasn't a gymbro, but he had some muscle going on, and it seemed natural to take his outstretched palm and let him pull me up. It was kind of neat how he could move me around, actually.

Plus, it felt good having skin to skin contact—good enough that I didn't let go right away, but stood there instead holding his hand in some sort of weird-ass not-handshake, like a politician who's not sure he's quite won your vote yet and doesn't know if it's safe to let go.

Trey glanced down at our hands and up at me, an indecipherable expression flitting over his features. For the space of a heartbeat the air was heavy with something I couldn't name, but then he pulled his hand away and took a step back, looking at his watch. "We should go. Wanna bet Marty's forgotten the snacks?"

I let out a long breath. "Oh yeah, for sure. He's probably forgotten there's a meeting."

"Knowing Marty, he's off chasing a squirrel somewhere," Trey said and whatever that moment of weirdness had been, it was gone .

Still, as we walked downstairs, I found myself flexing my fingers and chasing the memory of his touch.

Trey Montgomery liked to jerk off.

Ask me how I knew.

Although, if you've ever shared a room with another dude, you probably don't need to. There's normally an unspoken agreement that jerking off is reserved for the shower, and in the rare event that it isn't, any unusual late-night noises are mutually ignored. But Trey either didn't know or didn't care about the shower rule, because I swear he had his hand on his dick every second night, and he wasn't exactly quiet about it.

In fairness, he normally waited until he thought I was asleep. It's just that I was really good at faking it, which was an essential skill to develop with roommates. My previous roommate had been a talker, and pretending to be asleep had been the only way to shut down a conversation. Unfortunately, in my desire to avoid any midnight heart-to-hearts with Trey, I got a ringside seat to his jerk off sessions instead.

And man, what sessions they were. If getting off was an Olympic sport, then Trey was a gold medalist, the Usain Bolt of beating his meat. The guy had stamina. Which, admirable, but not exactly thrilling when you were the observer to what was supposed to be a non-spectator sport.

Tonight, Trey was going hard. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't like I was deliberately watching or anything. I hadn't rolled over so I could see the way the shadows fell across the undulating blankets or to follow the movement of Trey's hand. I just happened to sleep facing that way. And if I rolled the other way, well that would be too obvious. I settled for easing over onto my back and closing my eyes, but I could still hear Trey's quick breaths in the quiet of the room, interspersed with soft grunts, and the slick sounds of flesh on flesh. It was …

It was fucking hot , actually.

And fine, I'd watched my share of porn, and maybe some of that porn had been of dudes fucking, but that was beside the point. The point was—I almost had it— the point was that watching that porn must have formed a neural pathway or some shit, because now, the noises Trey was making as he got himself off automatically lit a fuse between my brain and my dick, and I found myself getting hard— really hard.

I slid a hand down from where it had been resting on my belly and cupped myself through my boxers. Trey let out a soft gasp, and my dick throbbed against my palm, reminding me that it had been a while, and it was up for anything I was offering.

I slipped my hand inside the waistband of my underwear and wrapped a hand around the shaft and stroked. The drag of my palm was too dry, but fuck if I was gonna start hunting for lube and draw attention to myself. Besides, I didn't think it would take much to get me off, my nerve endings jangling and clamoring for attention at the slightest touch.

I closed my eyes and stroked again, and a soft sigh left me because fuck, this was good. When I watched porn, I'd always gotten off to the sounds of sex more than the visuals, and Trey was providing that in spades. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, keeping time with the throbbing in my balls as I moved my hand faster, chasing relief.

"Dude, are you jerking off?" Trey asked, voice rough.

I froze, but it was only momentary. My dick didn't care if Trey was listening, not this close to getting what it wanted. My voice squeaked when I answered. "Um... what?"

I heard the rustle of bedclothes. "Are you jerking off, Scout?"

My dick throbbed in my grasp when he said my name, but for some reason I couldn't pull my hands away. I was balanced right on the razor-thin edge of coming, and this was very, very bad. "Uh."

"Dude." I could hear the amusement in his voice. Amusement that he surely had no right to feel since he'd been doing it first. What kind of superhuman levels of anti-shame did he have going on, and where could I get some?

I managed to let go of my dick at last. It wasn't happy about it, and neither was I. "I haven't gotten laid in months , bro. And listening to you jerk up a storm and getting off, the noises got to me, okay?"

There was a moment's silence, then. "I'm not getting off."

"Don't piss on my leg and tell me it's raining, Trey. I can hear you."

Trey let out a gusty sigh, and the outline of his figure moved, silhouetted in moonlight as he propped himself up on an elbow. "I'm tryin' , sure, but I can't fucking get there, Scout."

And fuck if my dick didn't throb when he said my name again, and all I could imagine was those long, elegant fingers wrapped around my dick—wait, no.

I meant his dick.

Didn't I?

Trapped in a tangled spiral of lust and humiliation, I couldn't decide which was the better option there, or if there even was one. Apart from fleeing into the night and moving to Antarctica to live with penguins for the rest of my life and never speaking to another human being again.

And yet, I was struck with an idea. It was objectively a terrible idea, but it was late, and my balls were bluer than my grandma's hair, and Trey was my bro. My voice rasped again, but I pushed the words out: "Feels better when it's someone else, right?"

Trey hummed in the darkness. "Yeah, but since there's only me, my only other choice is lie on my arm until it goes numb and pretend. Unless you have any suggestions?"

My heart beat faster as I wondered if we were on the same page. The same crazy page. I pushed my comforter back. "Get over here."

He didn't speak, didn't move, and for a sickening moment I thought I'd messed everything up. This roommate situation, my reputation in Alpha Tau, probably my entire fucking future if Trey ran his mouth. And then, when he did move, I panicked that he was going to come over and punch me in the face. But it wasn't violence he met me with when he crossed the space between our beds. It was warmth. The warmth of his body beside mine, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, as he slipped between the sheets as easy as breathing.

"Okay," I said, my voice steadier than any other part of me—except my dick. That fucker was rock solid. "This is just bros helping bros, right?"

His voice was low. "Right."

"Right," I echoed, my heart pounding. I'm not sure who moved first, but the next thing I knew we were both scrambling to get our underwear off and Trey was rolling me onto my back, laying on top of me and wrapping one hand around both our dicks. His palm was slick and his touch felt just as good as I'd imagined.

I let out a low whine and Trey huffed out a soft laugh, his breath warm against my collarbone.

And then he started to move, jerking me off in long, slow strokes that had my toes curling and my balls throbbing at the renewed promise of finally getting off.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," I said, and you would never guess I was a member of Lassiter's American Parliamentary Debate Association team.

"Fuck yeah, Scout." Trey panted, low and desperate. The heat and urgency in his voice dragged me over the edge, my orgasm thundering through me as I fucked up into his hand and came in long spurts.

"Oh, shit ." Super eloquent, Scout. Good job. I blinked up into the darkness, and wondered when my hands had found their way to Trey's shuddering hips. I didn't have the energy to move as he came too. Hell, I didn't even mind the feeling of his cum hitting my skin. Quid pro quo, right ?

Trey collapsed against me, breathing heavily, and I didn't mind the feeling of him resting against me either. It was a lot like one of those weighted blankets—if weighted blankets could make you come in three minutes flat, and smelled of sandalwood and sweat. I slid my hands from his hips and settled them in the small of his back holding him in place as we both came down from our post-fuck high.

Not that we had fucked. We were just letting off steam, that was all.

Just helping each other out.

Just being bros.

"I can hear you overthinking," Trey said, his voice rumbling through both of us and reminding me that he was still lying on me.

"I'm not overthinking," I lied.

He rolled off me, and I immediately missed the weight of him. I fought the dumb urge to reach out for him.

"You are," he said, as though that settled it. "You always do."

"Bullshit," I said. "I do not. You don't know me."

"Yeah, I do." There was a note of certainty in his voice that I didn't even know how to argue against, so I didn't bother.

"Whatever, bro." I swallowed. "So, um, not to make it weird or anything, but thanks."

"Anytime." Trey swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached over, grabbing a handful of tissues from the box on my nightstand. He wiped the mess off my stomach, his movements quick and sure, before cleaning himself up and flopping across his own bed.

My mind whirled, and I pulled the comforter over myself while I tried to figure out what the fuck that was supposed to mean.

Anytime.

It was just something you said, right? A nicety, like when your mother said "We should visit sometime," to Mrs. Mulaney at the store, and they both knew darn well that woman was never setting foot in your mother's sitting room, not with those piercings.

I didn't ask, though. That would be weird, and we weren't making this weird. Instead, I pulled the comforter up to cover my naked ass, and let the sound of Trey's slow, steady breaths lull me to sleep.