Chapter 11

11

Troy

Ash and I sit at the desk in my room. When he showed up, he pulled his swivel chair in with him, something that’s become part of our routine since he started tutoring me for Thermo. I was curious to see how it would work out, if Ash might be too flirtatious to make studying possible, but it hasn’t been an issue. He’ll bat his pretty lashes or scoot a little closer to me, but as we’ve struggled through my confusion and misapprehensions around the concepts, our discussions or straight-up arguments have surely made me lose some of my appeal to him. He’s a sexy guy; don’t get me wrong. But I’ve never felt anything toward him, and I’m sure Colin is thrilled about that.

While he grades my latest practice test, I pull Instagram up on my phone and peruse my feed.

This’ll be the fourth practice test he’s given me since we started studying together, and I only have a week until the actual test. I’m doing better than when we started this, but still no touchdown. Certainly not doing well enough to guarantee a BJ.

While I’m on Instagram, without thinking much about it, I pull up Atlas’s profile.

He’s got some photos with his friends, hanging out and playing video games. There are a few of interesting finds at the metal yard. And others of places around town. The most recent is from the Alpha Theta Mu party he crashed. I think about how I smoothed things over with Marty and some of the other guys: “He’s my stepbrother. He’s not going to be a problem this year, I promise.” Saying things I didn’t believe.

I zoom in to Atlas’s mouth—the subtle arches of his upper lip, the full bottom lip that gives him that sexy, pouty look.

Why the fuck am I zooming in to my stepbrother’s mouth?

Even if I do win this bet, it’s not like he’s actually going to blow me with it.

Is he?

I consider the hard-on he had at our parents’ place. That could have been anything. Hell, I’ve had rage boners just from watching the Vols lose a game, so I know getting an erection doesn’t have to mean anything. Although, I don’t have any excuse for why I got so hard while we were wrestling around.

Everything happened so fast, and before I knew it, he was on top of me. The tension, the heat, our bodies pressed against each other as we gazed into each other’s eyes…

It was my fault he was hurting. I shouldn’t have told him what Margot said. I should have lied, though I would have hated myself for lying to him.

I was in so much pain; he was in so much pain. I wanted to kiss him and make it all go away, let us forget all about Sabine and Margot’s fucked-up comments, but even more importantly, to forget all about our fucked-up pasts.

“You’re hard.”

I was painfully hard, and then he fucking flipped us, and I imagined him riding me like that.

Fuck. It just wouldn’t stop. All those images I’d tried to push away raced through my mind in an instant, and I imagined a very different sort of tussle. I imagined him having my name on his ass, pushing into him as he begged me to go harder.

And now I’m hard again.

Fuck.

I slide my textbook off the desk and rest it in my lap. No need to torture Colin’s brother and give him false hope.

“Seven out of ten,” Ash says, grabbing my attention. He must see my disappointment because he says, “You’re doing good.” He hands me the practice test.

“Good?” Not good enough to show Atlas up.

Ash smiles. I can’t imagine why. “You’re doubting my skills?”

“No, it’s better than the three I got on that first one. But the last one was six, and it’s not a good enough grade.”

“To pass?”

No, to get head.

Not that that’s even going to happen.

But do I want it to happen? And if I do, would he—

He’s straight, so get that out of your head.

And if he’s not?

What do you mean if he’s not? Stop thinking like that.

“You aren’t looking at this the right way,” Ash says, not for the first time since we started our study sessions. “You know how you said math and science came easy to you? I was the opposite. I had to learn how to study. These tests I’ve been giving you…”

“Yeah?”

“Typically, a teacher will come up with something like five to ten problems to cover the material, and there will be variations of those with similar issues designed to trip you up, but those are covered in the homework and tests, so if you understand the concepts and those particular tricks they’ve singled out, you’ll do fine, right?”

“I get that.”

Why does he have that grin on his face?

“When you asked for help, I studied your homework for the first test, the study guide, and the actual test. Then I studied the homework assignments in the book that cover this test period, and I’ve been following the homework you’ve had and determined what I believe will be the variations he’ll have for the next test. Are you following?”

“Is this an oral practice test?”

He chuckles. “No. The first time you took the practice test I gave you, you got three out of ten. Last one you got six, and this one seven. That tells me that since we started, you’ve learned how to solve four more of the types of problems you’ll encounter, and we just need to home in on the ones you’re still not getting. And from my assessment, I think I see the tricks you’re falling for, so I’m confident this is very doable within a week.” Ash reaches over and pushes up on my chin to close my mouth.

“Ash, you’re a genius!”

“Damn right. Now stop doubting my nerd superpowers.”

“Thank you, God of the Nerds. I’m very appreciative that you’re willing to use your powers to help a lowly mortal like me.”

“Happy to give you that little push you needed. Now let’s stop talking tests and get back to figuring some of this shit out. I got a Scruff date in an hour, so start learning faster.”

I know he mentioned it for a laugh, but I’m glad to know he’s getting out there and having some fun. And his explanation of his clever tutoring process—that I’ve apparently underestimated—fills me with confidence. I can actually imagine acing this test. Holy fuck, what will Atlas do if I win?

I can’t celebrate prematurely. I need to get to work, so I listen carefully as Ash walks me through where I’ve fumbled on the practice test. His explanations sure make a lot more sense than they did when we started, but I’m skeptical. What if I’m just kidding myself? Then I guess a C is better than an F, and I’m Atlas’s servant for a night.

No. I won’t settle. If I go down, I’ll go down fighting.

After Ash and I finish up, he takes his swivel chair with him down the hall to his room.

I toss my shirt off and fall onto my bed. Just need to relax.

As I check my phone, I notice an Instagram notification. A DM from Atlas. We started chatting on Instagram shortly after Mom’s birthday party. He must’ve noticed I was active earlier.

Atlas: Shouldn’t you be studying?

Me: Just finished my study session with Ash. Hope you’re stretching those masseter muscles.I throw in a tongue emoji to really dig it in. Now stop stalking me on Insta.

I start to put my phone down, when it buzzes.

Atlas: Is there somewhere else you’d prefer to be stalked?

Now he’s got me laughing.

Me: If you want another boner, I suggest you check out last summer’s lake pics.

Atlas: I can do my own stalking, thanks.

I know he’s not actually drooling over my photos, but I kind of wish he were.

What a fucked-up thought to have.

We have such a strange relationship. After our wrestling match in my old room, I thought things might be awkward, but now we just tease each other about giving each other boners. It’s so fucking us, it’s scary. Our relationship has always been a wild, unpredictable mess. One minute we’re fighting or goading each other, the next I feel like he’s the only person in the world who sees beyond my facade—this performance I put on to make everyone think I’m all right.

I’m not all right, though, and neither is he. We’ve always known that, and even when we’re giving each other hell, we’re always there for each other, sometimes just needing a wrestle to get out all our rage.

I set my phone down and eye my nightstand. For some reason, I lean over, slide it open, and retrieve Atlas’s shirt.

I’ve had chances to give it back to him. I could have taken it with me to Mom’s birthday party. Or the dinner we’ve had at Glen and Mom’s since then. Or when I saw him around school or at our last party. Or when he came by the shop with another part he bought for me.

But I haven’t even told him I have it.

I pull it to my face and inhale, and I realize as I do it why I was compelled to pull it out. A wave of relief washes through me, helps me let go of all the tension I had while Ash was scrambling my brain. What about smelling Atlas does this to me?

I fist it in my hand, burying my face into the cloth. As I take my next breath, I practically gasp. It’s like someone held my head underwater, and now I’m coming up for air. Funny to think that, when Atlas would be the guy most likely to be holding my head under.

As my dick hardens, I bite into the fabric.

What the hell am I doing?

I snatch up my phone and pull up Instagram again, returning to the photo Brenner had of him.

I zoom back in to Atlas’s pretty, pouty face.

He’s got this cocky expression for the photo. I bet he knew how hot he looked that night, his lengthy locks like a dirty-blond wave crashing on the shore. His open button-up reveals his necklace resting between the ridges in his pecs. Never thought I’d be envious of a necklace.

And that mouth on him…God… With my free hand, I press my finger against his lips and trace them.

I remove my gym shorts and boxers, tossing them to the bottom of the bed. Then I position a pillow near me and rest the phone against it so that his image is looking at me. I lick my palm and grab my cock, stroking.

As I pull his shirt back to my face, my dick pulses in my grip.

What is it about this scent that gets to me? Is it that sweat-and-musk smell? Or is it because it’s his smell?

What am I fucking doing? Why do I have his shirt and photo in bed? Why am I jerking off to this?

I close my eyes, and a greedy fantasy seizes me. Atlas on his knees, begging me to come on his face, letting me mark his pretty cheeks. Licking some that gets on his bottom lip.

It’s never gonna happen, but I’m stroking faster, my balls tightening. I take another whiff of his shirt, feeling like a real creeper as my shaft firms in my grip and—

“Troy, oh shit!”

I roll off the other side of my bed before calling out, “Colin!”

“Ooh, somebody should lock his door.” He’s got a huge grin on his face.

“Somebody should knock.” I retrieve my phone so there’s no chance he’ll see whom I’ve been thinking about.

“Watching hot porn?” He heads in, not at all freaked out by the state he found me in.

“Yeah, porn.”

Atlas-face porn.

“Me and some of the guys were gonna go for Vietnamese. You in?”

“I think I’m gonna finish up here, but thanks.”

He beams. “Okay, let me know if you need help. I’ll send someone over.”

“I’m perfectly able to get my own help, thanks,” I remind him before he leaves, closing the door behind him.

As I look down at my phone, at the image of Atlas, there’s only one thing going through my mind: this could be a problem.