Page 2 of Just the tip

I shrugged. “I’m not ashamed, but I like my life the way it is, and I have no desire to make myself a target of fists or gossip.”

I wasn’t sure how to read his expression. I couldn’t tell if it was discomfort, disappointment, or something else. A moment passed. Then Ryan leaned down, fingertips sweeping the grass as he scooped up his empty cup that’d fallen when I shoved him. He was startlingly polite that way. “Whatever,” he said and strolled away.

But thus far, he’d kept his promise, and in a few more months, it wouldn’t matter anyway. He’d be heading two hours away on a sports scholarship, and I’d be going to the local U.

Ophelia foundme after lunch period and hooked her arm through mine as we walked down the hall. Most people assumed we were dating, which was fine by me. Ophelia was cute, fun, and loyal. Mostly.

“There’s a band at Mirror tonight. They’re making the show eighteen and up. Want to go with me?” She waggled her brows invitingly.

“Who’s the band” I asked skeptically. We had about five bands in common that we liked.

“Silver Wings.” She batted her lashes for emphasis, trying to distract me from the fact that Silver Wings happened to be on my personal no-fly list. They were awful.

“Come on, Graham. Please? You know there’ll be lots of pretty little things there all dolled up.” She stepped in front of me and clasped my hands, pulling them up to her chin where she rubbed the tip of her nose over my knuckles affectionately. “Please?”

I sighed. I didn’t want a pretty little thing, male or female. I wanted a hard jock, and I wasn’t going to get the one I wanted in this lifetime. “I’ll think about it,” I said after a moment, knowing already I’d be going.

She squeed and bounced on her toes. “It’ll be fun! Gotta run now.” She fled down the hallway, dark hair streaming behind her, before I could change my mind.

After my next class, I had study hall, which would be easy enough to cut, and since Ryan had a game I didn’t have to worry about waiting around for him. I’d been to one of his games during basketball season and, well, never again. The noise level was ridiculous for one thing, the stupid way people got so caught up in a fucking game. And of course, there was Ryan himself. Starting forward, fucking perfect, moving across the floor with balletic grace. I’d watched him, practically googly-eyed and riveted to my seat with fascination, admiring the perfect synchronization of him and his teammates. It was almost as if they shared a collective mind. Ryan would go to pass the ball, and the other guy would already be turning, hands open, waiting for it. The point guard would fake a throw, have his back turned, and swivel, throwing straight to Ryan, who was there and waiting. Some of those were plays, I was sure, but there was a lot that was just instinct and the intimacy of a team. I’d never known that kind of intimacy before, a bond so close it was like thoughts traveling over shared wires. I was jealous. So fucking jealous. I’d never gone back.

Speak of the devil. As I was walking out and heading to the parking lot, I heard a loud pounding and turned a look over my shoulder to find Ryan banging on the library window. We had study hall together, technically, but I usually never saw him because I’d bury myself in one of the nooks among the stacks while he stayed in the main area with his five-hundred million friends.

He ducked away, and I saw Mrs. Wight stalking down the aisle. Then he flashed into view again before ducking down another aisle and slipping through the door behind Mrs. Wight’s back. I started to smile for his deft evasion before I caught myself.

Ryan froze just outside the door, looking sideways at the bank of windows and then at me as Mrs. Wight frowned at me through the window. When she vanished again, I gave Ryan a subtle nod, and he darted in my direction where we met at the car.

“What’re you doing?”

“The fuck does it look like I’m doing? I’m leaving.” I tossed my backpack on the roof of the car and fished in my pocket for my keys, avoiding Ryan’s eyes. Avoiding that delicious band of skin that disappeared behind the loosened collar of his shirt, taunting me, begging for teeth. I wanted to bruise it, purple it up with the world’s largest hickey. This…probably wasn’t healthy.

“I need a favor, man.”

My brows shot up. I folded my arms over the roof of the car and gave him a flat stare. This was unusual. Ryan had never, not even once, asked me for anything before.

But if he was waiting for me to offer, he’d be waiting until the apocalypse. He stared back at me for a handful of seconds, then looked over my shoulder at the track, before his gaze drifted back, and he rolled his eyes. “I forgot about a paper that’s due tomorrow in Mrs. Brock’s class.”

Well that was disappointing. For about two seconds in my private fantasyland, his request had been along the lines ofI need you to get down on your knees right here and suck my cock.I gave him another flat stare. The flattest of flat. Not even a carbonation bubble remaining. What could I say? I was disappointed at the lack of creativity in his request. “So write it tonight when you get home.”

“It’s an eight-pager onHeart of Darkness, man, and I haven’t even read all the chapters. I won’t get home ’till late. Game’s in the county over.”

“Sounds like tough luck to me,dude. I’ve got plans tonight.” I opened the driver’s side door.

Ryan shifted on his feet and clenched one fist. I thought he was about to hammer it onto the rooftop the way he swung it, but the momentum slowed, and he just rapped the roof lightly once and relaxed his hand.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled and said, “Please, Graham.” When he opened them again they were big and—dammit—beseeching enough to collapse an iron will. “I’m failing that class, and if I fail that class, I won’t graduate.”

“That makes you even more of an idiot, then,” I said, but that plea was softening me. I could feel it melting the edges of my resolve, the way he’d said it so earnestly, so reluctantly, like he was really and truly desperate. Fuck, forget me being on my knees. I’d like to see him on his knees likethat.

“I’d owe you Graham.”

I chuckled, and he did pound the rooftop in frustration, then.

“I’ll do you a favor in return. C’mon, dude.Please! It can be anything you want. Anything that won’t get me thrown in jail. You can have anything of mine you want. Shit, I’ll start getting rides so you don’t have to wait on me anymore.”

I wasn’t chuckling anymore. Nope. Now a tantalizing smolder of possibility burned low in my gut, spreading through me like the ooze of warm honey, lighting me up from my core outward.Anything that won’t get me thrown in jail. God, did he even have a clue what he was offering? How dangerous it was to say something like that to a jaded asshole like me?

I grabbed my backpack off the top of the car and stuffed it in the backseat before folding my arms over the warm metal roof again and propping my chin on my forearm, angling a look at him. He looked and sounded sincere, and he watched me back, gaze steady as I appraised him.