Page 9 of Gay for Pray (Arport Sacred Sacrament University #1)
Chapter Nine
Jude
NICK’S GLARE BURNS ON the back of my neck, but I stare steadfastly at the bathroom mirror and continue attempting to tame my hair. The waves have a mind of their own and I mostly let them fly free, but it would be nice if the brown mess listened to me once in a while.
“You invited him ? Are you insane?” Nick says.
“What? It came up naturally. I didn’t think he’d actually say yes. I thought it’d be funny.”
I don’t need to see Nick’s reflection in the mirror to know his scowl hasn’t changed.
“Theodore will probably stick to the wall for an hour and then leave,” I say. “We can still do whatever we want. It’s not like I agreed to babysit him. I just said he could come with us if he wanted.”
Nick folds his arms over his chest. “We’re supposed to be going out and getting laid,” he says.
“Remember? This year is supposed to be different. It’s supposed to be when our awesome college experience actually begins.
That guy is the antithesis of an awesome college experience.
He’ll probably throw a Bible at us if we make out with someone at a party. ”
I lean closer to the mirror both to concentrate on a subtle dab of eyeliner and to avoid Nick’s expression.
He isn’t wrong. Theodore is the opposite of everything we are hoping to get out of our sophomore year at A.S.S.
Uni., but it’s too late to take back the invitation.
I truly didn’t expect Theodore to accept it.
I thought he’d grumble at me and I’d get a laugh out of it.
“It might be funny,” I say. “The poor church boy caught in a den of sin.”
Nick huffs out a sigh. “We’re going to have to explain this to Carl, you know.”
“Who the hell is Carl?”
“The host. It’s his house. Well, his and some other guys, but Carl’s the main organizer. He’s not going to be any happier than me when we show up with your priest.”
“Whatever, we’ll say we’re bringing a friend. There’s going to be so many people at this thing. No one will notice.”
“Friend,” Nick grumbles, but he stalks to his room to finish getting ready.
I straighten up when he goes, checking out the light touch of make up, the way my hair falls, the thin chains dangling from my ears.
Definitely a little more than I do for class, especially paired with a crop top.
Even if I wasn’t out, no one would mistake me for straight like this.
Maybe Theodore will see me and run, put off by unabashed queerness on full display.
I leave the bathroom before I can fuss any more with my hair or makeup.
It’s not something I bother with most days, but this is a special occasion, the first party of the semester, a chance to meet someone if I’m really lucky.
It’s entirely possible the only other queer person at this party will be Nick, but if he’s not, I’ve got to shoot my shot.
Otherwise it’ll be another sad, desperate year of trying not to mess around with my friend.
Nick comes out of his bedroom wearing a scooped neck shirt that shows off his smooth, tan chest and a scowl that shows off his continued irritation. Before he can complain any further, however, a knock sounds at our door.
“I’ll get it,” I say with false merriment.
In truth, I’m not much more sure about this whole Theodore thing than Nick is.
I didn’t expect him to say yes, and I have no idea what Theodore will be like at a real college party.
If he’s going there to convert the sinners or something, I’ll kick him out myself, but the guy seems like he could use a good college mistake or three.
Maybe some girl will find the dorky uptight thing charming and blow his mind.
Who knows? Even Theodore must have human desires somewhere inside him if he agreed to go to a party like this.
Thinking about Theodore and desire side-by-side nearly gives me vertigo.
He’s a young man, and he seems healthy enough, so he must want something or someone, but it’s difficult to fathom.
He’s always so buttoned up, so contained.
I find myself wondering if he’s ever even jerked himself off or if he’d consider that a sin too. Wasting your seed and all that.
I shudder at the thought and spend a moment collecting myself before I open the door.
Theodore stands outside me and Nick’s dorm, which lies on the seventh floor of one of the student housing towers.
He looks like he’s dressed for Sunday Mass, complete with actual khaki slacks and a button-down sealed all the way up to his throat and neatly tucked in at the waist. His blond hair is tidier than mine will ever be, his face freshly shaved.
“Jesus Christ,” Nick groans behind me.
“We definitely need to fix this,” I say.
Theodore looks confused, but I pull him into the dorm by the wrist and shut the door behind him before anyone can witness this travesty.
Without another word, I untuck his shirt.
He startles but lets me manhandle him, loosening the shirt so it lies more naturally around him.
Then I reach for the buttons at the top, undoing the first couple so the shirt hangs open.
Finally, I scrub my fingers through his hair, one quick shake to mess up the tight conformity of every strand.
I step back to access my work. Theodore’s eyebrows rise. He blinks like he just walked out of a hurricane, and he kind of looks like it as well. Certainly not my finest attempt, but it’s worlds better than how he showed up here.
Then he looks at me. Really looks at me.
His eyes go from blinking with confusion to roaming up and down me.
He takes in the tightness of my pants, his eyes glancing across the exposed skin of my midriff.
I realize that I just touched him, that I was so close to him I could taste the spice of his aftershave on my tongue, and heat prickles in my gut.
What’s in Theodore’s brown eyes now isn’t shock.
It’s something else, something my brain cannot wrap itself around.
I didn’t dress this way for him, yet the way he appraises me heats something inside me that I don’t want to think about.
God, I need this party to go well.
I can’t keep having these weird flashes of desire just because Theodore is the only non-Nick man I spend any time around.
I need a guy who isn’t a stuck up choir boy.
The illusion I created by untucking his shirt and mussing up his hair is exactly that—an illusion—and I will only give myself even worse blue balls if I let myself think it’s anything more.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say. “We need to walk to the other side of campus to reach Greek Row.”
Nick seems like he wants to say something, but he simply brushes past me, his doubt palpable as he breezes out of the door and toward the elevator bank at the far end of the hall. I make a show of gesturing for Theodore to follow.
“After you, Choir Boy.”
Theodore seems to collect himself, from the shock of my appearance or the shock of me manhandling him, I’m not sure. Either way, he follows Nick, with me heading out last so I can lock up the dorm behind us.
The elevator ride itches with awkwardness, especially with Theodore standing between me and my pissed off best friend. I hope Nick has a successful night because otherwise I’m not sure he’ll ever forgive me for this.
We leave the tower behind and weave our way through campus toward Greek Row.
Theodore clearly has no idea where we’re going and sticks close to my side.
Nick is a silent, brooding shadow as we wander all those pretty, manicured paths.
He and I look like walking code of conduct violations, but the night is thick and dark around us, and the only other people we encounter are also on their way to breech the university’s ethics rules.
It’s a perfect night for debauchery, dark enough to conceal but warm enough that you can stay out as late as you need.
Even with Nick brooding and Theodore walking stiff and silent as a soldier, a tingle of excitement gurgles within me as the academic buildings fall away and the student housing at the edge of campus sprouts up.
This isn’t like where Nick and I live. The towers are mostly for freshmen and sophomores.
They contain floors and floors of tiny dorm rooms like me and Nick’s.
Out here at the edges of the university grounds, a couple streets of actual houses create odd little mini neighborhoods within the university.
Trees line a walking path flanked by red brick houses that evoke a puritan pioneer aesthetic, but what we plan to do here tonight is anything but puritan.
Music thumps out onto the path long before we ever reach the house.
It’s clear which one we’re heading to thanks to the people and light splashing out onto the fenced in front lawn.
A few people stand in clusters talking and drinking, while others play cornhole while they’ve still got the motor skills to pull it off.
The second we walk up the to the door, a guy there stops us, cocking an eyebrow.
“What’s he doing here?” he says, looking right at Theodore.
“Plus one,” I say.
I throw an arm around Theodore’s shoulders, and he flinches under my touch. I almost flinch as well, but that would be ridiculous. He obviously reacted that way because he’s so disgusted by me. Why should I be the one to jerk away?
I keep a hold on him as this pseudo frat bro bouncer evaluates all of us with a grimace.
“He’s a narc,” the bouncer says.
I think I recognize him from Professor Demsky’s class, but if he recognizes me or Theodore in return, it does us no favors. In fact, he seems to like us even less when recognition sparks in his eyes.
“He’s not a narc,” I say. “He’s cool. Relax. He’s here to party like everyone else, right, Theodore?”
I glance aside at him, and find Theodore watching me.
Instead of pulling away in disgust because I touched him, he’s leaning slightly against me, looking at me like I’m the only safe thing in the entire universe.
It reminds me of that look he gave me back at the dorm room, that quick flash of appraisal and perhaps even appreciation.
What am I thinking? There’s no appreciation here.
This guy is only at this university so he can become a priest. He showed up for a party wearing khakis , for God’s sake.
He’s just nervous about being at a big party, and I’m the one familiar thing he has to cling to.
Yet as he stares at me, I have to swallow to clear my throat.
I turn to the bouncer instead, hugging Theodore against my side like proximity can leech some of the narc-ness off him.
“I give you my personal promise,” I say. “He’s fine. Can we go in now? What are you, the fucking cops?”
The bouncer rolls his eyes. “No, but he might be.”
“Shut up and move,” Nick says.
He shoulders his way past all of us, and he’s so annoyed the bouncer makes no move to stop him. He even lets me and Theodore pass afterward, though not without a warning glare.
I shove my way into the party, but before I can take two steps, someone grabs my hand. Theodore grabs my hand. At first, the shock freezes me in place, nearly trapping us in the foyer with the unfriendly bouncer. Then I smile, giving Theodore a squeeze of reassurance as I pull him inside.
Me and my choir boy enter our first real college party of the semester.