Page 3 of Just the tip

I rolled one shoulder smoothly in my t-shirt and straightened. “A favor for a favor,” I agreed. “No time limit on when I call it in. I ask, and you say yes. That’s the way it happens.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes, just slightly, as if he was wondering what he’d committed to. Then he nodded, started to turn away, and paused, looking back at me. “I need an A.”

2

Ryan

Iask, and you say yes. That’s the way it happens.

Graham couldn’t know how those words raced through me, pooling in my veins, coursing through me like fire as he spoke in that low, silky voice. I thought immediately back to that party when I’d walked in on him and that guy, the fury in his eyes so rampant, so unleashed that it might as well have been a sucker punch.

I’d stood outside the door dumbstruck for a few minutes after he told me to fuck off, first just out of bald curiosity because everything about Graham was a fucking mystery to me, and then out of helplessness as my dick stiffened in my jeans. Thosesounds. The wet slurp of the other guy’s mouth and Graham’s raspy moans, the whispers and murmurs I couldn’t quite make out, the hisses of breath and the sharp gasps and then a guttural groan as he came down the other guy’s throat—I assumed. My balls had tightened in response, and I stumbled away, half dazed, and went straight for the keg, unsure of what the fuck was happening and slightly disgusted with myself.

I didn’t know exactly when I started having these…feelingsfor Graham, the same way I didn’t know exactly the moment we started disliking each other. When we first met, it was clear we couldn’t be more opposite, but we were friendly enough, and I was glad to have a brother, at least in name. I’d always wanted one. But gradually, over the months, the more serious our parents got, we started drifting, and by the time we were under the same roof, we’d somehow worked ourselves into this silent mutual agreement that we annoyed the ever-loving shit out of each other.

Except he didn’t annoy me. Graham fascinated me. Dude thought he flew so low under the radar, but he didn’t. People noticed him. They gave him distance out of some kind of wariness, and I had no idea what he’d done to earn that, but he cultivated it. He was smart as shit, incredibly good at anything academic and creative, whether it was drawing or writing or organic chemistry. And he raised being a sarcastic dick to an art form.

I wanted to somehow crack the code of him, but the only person he let anywhere close to him was Ophelia. For the longest time, I’d thought they were dating. But he didn’t seem to date anyone, and I’d wondered if his high-and-mighty act was really a cover for being a virgin. Until I caught him in the bathroom with that guy. Then I really started paying attention. The frequent texts, how he disappeared weekend nights. He got around for sure.

After that, it was easier to be a dick to him back, to dislike him because it’d fucking hurt that he’d been so pissed at me that night, that he thought so little of me as to think I might betray my own brother’s confidence, even if we weren’t bound together by blood. That he was pissed enough to threaten to mess with our parent’s marriage was fucked up, even if I knew he wouldn’t because deep down, he was just as happy for them as I was. I both dreaded going away to school as much as I looked forward to it. I’d only have to deal with Graham for a few more months before I could turn my back on him on all but college breaks when I’d be home.

Believe me, I’d tried to figure out why the hell I was intrigued by him in the first place. There was some vague resemblance to my old girlfriend, Nadia. Not in appearance, but personality. She was smarter than God, didn’t care who knew it, and was sassy as hell. Always knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to say it. But she was a chick, and Graham most definitely was a dude.

I returned to the library for the last fifteen minutes of study hall, and as soon as I walked through the door, Mrs. Wight crooked her finger at me and beckoned me over. “Where’s your brother?”

“He left.” She blinked at me, clearly expecting more of an explanation, which I supplied with a small smile. “He wasn’t feeling good. Came on suddenly. He told me to apologize to you.”

“Did he check out at the office?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation, knowing full well he hadn’t. Graham didn’t care about the rules, and the closer we got to graduation, the more he flouted them. Before, he’d gotten away with minor transgressions just because he was so damn smart and aced all of his AP classes. Now in the home stretch of senior year, he just banked on the teachers not giving a shit because he’d be graduating soon enough. With honors, of course.

Mrs. Wight sighed and waved me off. I found a study carrell to duck into and spent the last quarter hour scrolling through Instagram, trawling Graham’s photos for the fiftieth time and feeling pathetic for doing so. I knew most of the photos by heart. Him and Ophelia on Valentine’s day dressed up in black. Ophelia in some sort of patent leather corset, Graham in a tight black t-shirt that hugged his lean torso, a dark smirk spread over his firm mouth, thick-lashed blue eyes staring into the camera, spikes of dark hair falling messily over his forehead. He had a black lip print smeared over his cheek courtesy of Ophelia, and her tongue curled suggestively under his jaw, the tip licking over dark stubble. There was one from Christmas of him and Barb, my stepmom, standing in front of the brightly lit tree. He stared into the camera with a dramatically dead-eyed expression as Barb beamed, pointing to his sweater, which was festooned with garlands and miniature LEDs. She’d thought it was hilarious. In the next picture, though, my dad had caught them off-guard, Barb’s mouth awkwardly opened, clearly in the middle of saying something that had Graham laughing. His grin was unselfconscious and radiant, his teeth white and perfect. I was always drawn to that one. I’d never once seen him smile like that. When it came to me, his smiles always seem to have some kind of price tag attached. Or else they were like a fuse toward destruction.

The team headedout at four. The bus, as usual, smelled metallic with old sweat and the faint funk of gym clothes and sports equipment. I plunked down next to Dan Messer, one of our midfielders. His thumbs flew over the screen of his phone before he tucked it away. “Kara just dumped Brent.”

“Mmmmm,” I said appreciatively.

Dan narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t even think about it. I’m claiming that right now.”

“This isn’t land prospecting.” I laughed. “You can’t claim shit.”

“Oh, but I can. I’m going to plow those fields and plant my seed, so you just hang back at the fence post and watch like a good wingman.” He winked at me.

“We’ll see.” I gave him an enigmatic smirk, but I had no interest in Kara. She was hot, but cotton candy hot, and I liked a little edge.

“What about Steph?” he asked.

“That was a one-night deal.”

“I heard she likes it up the ass.” He waggled his brows at me, and I chuckled.

“Not with me.” We’d hooked up at party two weeks ago, fumbling around in the back of her car, but it’d actually been pretty vanilla, which was disappointing because I’d heard the same thing about her and anal. I had a thing for asses, big time, but aside from one ex, most of the girls I’d been with shied away from it. Made a face or reared back when I was fingering them and sent a speculative thumb in that direction to test the waters.

I was a little obsessed with the idea, though. It was all I jerked off to, lately: tight, pink little holes squeezing my dick, hot around my fingers, dripping with my jizz. I wondered if Graham had ever taken it from a guy. Or maybe he liked to top. God, maybe he likedboth. Would I? Was that even common? Fuck, I wasn’t sure, but the thought had me squirming in my seat.

I crossed an ankle over my knee so my burgeoning erection wouldn’t be visible to Dan. There was no way Graham was an ass virgin. No fucking way.

Dan was still rambling about an upcoming party. Someone’s parents out of town, blah blah blah, the usual. How drunk he was going to get. All the girls who would be there. I supplied grunts and one-word answers and stared out the window, trying to focus on the game ahead instead of whether Graham was a top or a bottom.