Page 6 of Project: FU (Longwood U #3)

NOLAN

The last time I really cried was when my age was in single digits. Otherwise, a few breathless tears here and there. I’m fortunate. I haven’t lost anyone I’m truly close with. Not grandparents or siblings, cousins, friends, aunts, uncles, or parents. Knock on wood.

When I was on the phone with Princess Daddy V, it felt as if I wasn’t just crying over a broken heart and being made to feel like a fucking idiot, but that there were years of shit that was finally catching up. I hadn’t realized I’d repressed so much.

My childhood experience isn’t what would be considered the typical ‘family’ home. I have five dads. Five . We live next door to a house with six dads—Kylen and Kole’s parents. On their opposite side, there are Jordan and River with their four kids, and River is nonbinary.

In our little cul-de-sac, we have families of all different kinds. All different lifestyles, sexualities, orientations, and even creeds. This is all to say that I don’t think I grew up with the mindset that men don’t cry or men don’t express their emotions.

Which makes my complete meltdown—that brought up old feelings from a decade ago—a little confusing. Kelsey’s betrayal was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Yes, I was definitely letting it out primarily because of her, but I think I reached a point where I ran out of tears for her.

Anyone who regards you with such little respect when you’re supposed to be in a committed relationship isn’t worth those kinds of tears. A mantra I’d been mentally telling myself since watching the video. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, and that those tears don’t come, anyway.

There are a lot of variations of the saying ‘ you can tell a lot about a person by how they treat… ’ and then you fill in the blank.

In my opinion, you can tell a lot by how they treat their partners when they’re not together.

How many times had I approached Elijah to try to defend Kelsey at cheer?

Not because she asked me to, but because I loved her and I wanted to help the situation.

Now I wonder if she thought of me at all when we weren’t together. A sick feeling inside me says she didn’t.

The hurt hasn’t faded entirely. No matter how many times I tell myself that she’s a piece of shit for doing what she did and how she responded afterward, my heart hasn’t quite gotten the memo from my head. But I feel more at peace now that I let myself fall apart.

Just once, which is more than she deserves.

However, I’ve noticed my anger isn’t subsiding at all. I’m still furious. I want her to hurt like I hurt. I’m not convinced she has a damn heart, so that’s not possible. But I want there to be something I can do to pay her back.

I want her to feel as horrified and humiliated as she’s made me feel. Okay, I know it brings me down to her level, but at this very moment in time, I don’t give a fuck.

I drop my chin in my palms and stare out the window.

My room is on the second floor, facing the park across from the frat house.

I’m on the far end of the building, so not close enough to the door to see people come and go, for which I’m thankful.

I imagine the rooms closest to the door don’t get a lot of peace.

Which means I’d probably do decently well beside the door. Growing up with five older siblings meant there was always a lot going on, and that was just in my house. Never mind the kids in my neighborhood.

My chest gives a pang. It’s not often that I miss home.

I don’t consider myself a largely emotional or sensitive man.

I grew up with a lot of love and affection, and right now, I kind of want to be home with my family.

Let them smother all the bad feelings away.

Maybe then I’ll stop caring about paying Kelsey back.

A tap on my door has me twisting in my bed. “Yeah?” If it had been a Whitaker twin, they likely wouldn’t have waited for an answer before opening the door.

I’m a little surprised to see Arek. Arek was in the same pledge group as me.

We became full members of DIK at the same time.

There’s something about this man that always gives me the chills, though I’m not sure what it is.

His vibe is kind of dark and quiet and… strangely, his presence makes my heart race.

Not in arousal or attraction. But with an innate sense of fear. As if my instincts know something about him that my conscious mind doesn’t know.

“Solace,” he greets, voice somehow deadpan with the two syllables.

“Van Doren,” I respond in turn, though I’m not sure I’m able to match his tone entirely.

He steps inside my room and shuts the door behind him, though he doesn’t come closer. “I’m going to echo the sentiments of the demon girl you brought into this house. Want me to cut her?”

I snort. “First of all, I didn’t bring Kole here. That would be her twin. And also, kinda, but no. Thanks for the offer.”

“Are you sure? In my experience, people like her only get worse with age.”

“In your experience, huh?”

He stares at me, and once again, my heart thuds for a second. The silence feels charged, chilled. “I’m a criminal psychology major,” he says.

My breath releases because that makes sense. Though again, my heart doesn’t get the memo.

“Right, well…” I shake my head and turn to stare out my window again. “Thanks for the offer.”

I don’t hear him approach. The man is like a damn cat. But his shadow looms over me as he stands at the end of my bed.

“Please don’t tell me you’re offering to be my rebound,” I say, hoping to lighten the mood.

In the corner of my eye, I see him tilt his head. I laugh because he clearly hadn’t considered that. “Will it help?”

I laugh louder. “Arek, no. I’m kidding.” I’m not sure he believes me. “Did you just come here to tell me you’ll ‘ cut her ?’”

“No. Demon twin and angel twin are worried about you.”

“And they asked you to check on me…?”

Now he’s just amused. “No. I thought you’d like to consider a project I’m working on.”

This man is full of surprises. I have no idea how to read him. “Okay… details?”

“Sex toys,” he tells me.

I smirk. “No offense, Van Doren, but the world is filled with sex toy companies.”

He hums as he pulls his phone out. I watch as he taps the screen for a minute and then hands it to me. I’m watching someone pour silicone into a mold. A very quick time lapse, and then we’re watching him unmold it. A perfect replica dick.

I flick to the next video and watch a different one. We’re talking very different sizes and shapes, but detailed and… weirdly real-looking. Except for that neon one. I’m not sure they replicated a glowing cock, but what do I know?

“I think you’ve only proven my point,” I say, glancing up at him.

“Think about it—right now, DIK’s business is men.

Gay men, straight men wanting to experiment, men who are DL gay.

That means fifty percent of the campus is an audience we’re not marketing to.

And there are favorites at Rumor and Confessions whose videos always result in far more clicks within the pay-per-view.

What if we can offer their exact dicks to our hundred-thousand subscribers so they can experience their favorite college boy’s cock? ”

“I know this isn’t your point, but a hundred thousand? Really?”

“Across the half dozen accounts, yes. Not on any single account.”

I shake my head. Fuck’s sake. No wonder this thing is profitable.

“What do you think?” Arek asks. “Want to help?”

“What is it you think I can offer?”

His eyes drop to my pants, and I’m surprised when I flush. “Jesus,” I mutter and turn back to stare out the window. I can just barely make out a hint of his reflection, as if he’s a ghost over my shoulder. Damn man is grinning.

“Or you can mold mine first.”

“I’d like to point out that I’ve never been in a video. My cock isn’t going to bring in the big bucks.”

He snorts. “I’ve heard things. It might.”

Okay, it’s the second time in as many minutes that my cheeks have heated. Who even am I?

“I need trial dicks,” Arek says. “So we can get our molds and recipes perfected. And I’m not a business major, as I already disclosed. I’m going to need some ideas on how to make this work.”

“I’m not a business major, either.”

“Your brain works normally,” he counters.

I turn my head to stare at him. That is a very strange comment. Maybe a little creepy. “Uh… thanks?”

He nods as if that was a legitimate thank you. I forget how strange it is to talk to Arek.

“Want to think about it?” he asks.

“Sure.”

He nods. “Cool. I’ll check in with you later.”

“Later this week, right? We’re not talking in ten minutes, are we?”

I know Arek well enough to know I’m not far off. He’d have been back in an hour. I try to keep my smile in as he pauses to look at me over his shoulder. “Yes,” he says, “that’s what I meant. Clearly.”

I laugh. He gives me a rare smile. As he turns the door handle, I ask, “Arek?” He pauses to look at me. “Two things.” He inclines his head. “If you were going to… hurt someone like they hurt you, but you’re not convinced that they can hurt in the same way, how would you do it?”

“Riddles,” he says, shutting the door again. “You don’t want that answer. I’m not above violence.”

And the chill is back in the room.

“Pretend that’s not an option.” Wait, did I just say pretend ? It’s not an option for real!

“I will need to get back to you on that. In a week. Not an hour.”

I grin. “Second thing: I’m in. I’ll help you with your dick project.”

“Great. I will continue to research recipes for the correct body-safe silicone and density. People like hard but fleshy dicks, right?”

Oh my god, this conversation! “Yeah. I think so. Maybe we need to take an audience survey.”

Arek hums. “This is why I need a normal brain to help me. Let’s start thinking of questions to ask about what people like in dicks.”

“Sure, Arek.”

He gives me a nod and leaves my room. If I were to make a list of all the things I thought might happen today, that wouldn’t be one of them.

I rub my face and turn my attention back to staring mindlessly outside. My phone pings and I blindly reach for it. The notification is from my calendar. It’s red, which means it’s a school reminder.

Choose research topic! You’re late.

Yep, I know myself. I press my thumb and finger into my eyes and sigh.

Okay, to the library to wander aimlessly until something looks interesting.

I used to try doing this same thing online, but it always resulted in failure.

There are far too many things to get distracted by online.

With a simple click, click, click, I’m somehow watching kids playing Mayhem War Zone on live streaming.

For hours! I’ve lost so many damn hours watching mindless shit or researching things that have nothing to do with school.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and decide this is a good idea, anyway.

Holing myself up in my room isn’t going to make me feel better.

I have a feeling that my anger remains just under the surface because I’ve had Kelsey in my room far, far too many times to count.

If I didn't love my view, I’d change rooms.

Maybe I'll burn my mattress instead.

I slip my feet into my sneakers, my phone into my pocket, and head to the library.

It’s after dinner, so I’m not expecting a crowd. Especially not on a Monday evening. There’s a calm to the library that I love. It always makes me think I should come here more often. Maybe sit and study here instead of in my room, where there are a lot of distractions and people milling about.

I don’t make it far before I see a familiar profile. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Orion Davenport, Kelsey’s older brother. He looks a lot like Skye, but bulkier, with a more defined jawline. And his eyes are blue, not brown.

Another Davenport sibling. I sway on my feet, chewing the inside of my lip. Messing with the gay one is easy, right? What if I seduce the straight one? Hell, fucking two siblings will definitely piss her off even more than one.

This time, I’m going to make it clear that while I’m definitely interested just for the fun of it, I’m also pissed off at his sister, which means no one is off limits anymore. No guilt this way.

I glance around and head for him. “Hey,” I greet, keeping my voice down.

As I’m suspecting, Orion gives me a big smile. “Nolan.”

“I’m always surprised to see you on campus.”

He raises one shoulder and then pushes a chair out for me.

“You know, I’m doing exactly what I went to school to do and…

it’s fine. But I just feel… lackluster, you know?

I thought I’d take one class a semester just to see if something strikes a chord in me.

Maybe I’m looking for something that doesn’t exist.”

“There should be a better way to find the work you want to do with your life. For example,” I grip his biceps. “You like working out. How did you stumble into that?”

He laughs. I grin wider when he flexes his arm under my hand. Maybe I use that as a convincing excuse to rub his arm and squeeze a little. Perhaps in reminiscence of what one might do to a cock.

“Dad. Hockey. I used to tag along a lot as a kid and with hockey comes workouts. I was mesmerized by how big these guys were, not realizing that to a six-year-old, every guy is big, and I wanted to be like them.”

“And you keep with it because?”

“I enjoy it.”

“That’s my point, right? We’re more likely to stumble upon our passions than we are to choose it from a career catalog.”

Orion sighs. I watch him as he sits back and lets his head fall back. I’m no longer touching him, but now I’m staring at him. Those big pecs. The shape of his neck. The waves in his hair that would be curls if he let it grow longer.

Our silence stretches for a minute. Maybe two. He turns his head to look at me. “Kelsey says you broke up with her.”

“Did she tell you she’s a shitty girlfriend?”

He smirks. “No, but I could have volunteered that information beforehand if you’d asked.”

I shrug. “Everything is a life experience, right? A learning experience. Exploratory experience.” My eyes drop to his mouth and then meet his eyes again.

Orion huffs quietly. “Uh-huh.”

I take his pen from the table and pull his notebook toward me, where I jot down my cell number. Then I meet his eyes again. “If you want to have some experiences that have nothing to do with school, give me a call.”

Still amused. “Sure, Nolan.”

I grip his arm as I get up again. “So, so strong,” I tease, winking at him. His quiet laughter follows me as I disappear into the stacks of books. I’m not sure I succeeded. I’m out of practice at seduction. But we’ll see. I’ve now planted the seed. That’s a start.