Page 5

FOUR

PATRICK

Jittery, avoidant, and deliciously nervous, Shane appeared at my door around four and insisted he was happy to wait outside while I packed my gym stuff.

That he had walked back on wanting to debrief after a training session was a surprise, especially considering how long his gaze lingered on me.

I’d have imagined him jumping head over heels for an hour longer to feast his naughty eyes.

It amused me on the surface level. Who didn’t want to be liked? It didn’t really matter if it was heading anywhere—it obviously wasn’t, considering the biology of it all.

I put on a clean pair of shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt, shoved my training sneakers into the backpack with a fresh change of clothes, and stepped out of the room. Shane was leaning against the wall, biting his nail.

“That’s a bad habit,” I said.

A small frown came over his face before he realized what he’d been doing. I’d only meant to tease, but guilt rose in his eyes. “Oh. Right. I thought I’d left that behind.”

I slapped his shoulder reassuringly and led the way down the hallway. The gym was just a ten-minute walk away, and it was a bit more crowded than I’d anticipated. It didn’t bother me, but I saw the nervous glances Shane sent around.

I swapped my sneakers and let Shane strap the smartwatch to my wrist. He was quick and methodical about it, stepping away as soon as it was done. He followed me upstairs to the training area with his notebooks.

“Do you want me to explain what I’m doing?” I asked.

He shook his head. “The best way to do this is if you just do your training session exactly as you always do. I’ll watch.”

I’m sure you will , I thought, wondering what this strange ripple of excitement meant. “Feast your eyes,” I said, keeping my voice cool. I took headphones out of my pocket and played myself some upbeat music to hype me up for the workout.

I minded my own business for the most part, but Shane was always somewhere in the corner of my vision, be that in front of me or in the reflection in the mirror.

It was hard not to be acutely aware of the weight of Shane’s gaze.

Those hungry, wanting eyes sliding over your body, exploring the glow of your skin, locking onto your naked ass if you’re dumb enough and vain enough to leave the door ajar.

And your secret inner voice pulsing, see me, see me, see me.

Aren’t I beautiful? Don’t you want it? The rising thrill of receiving someone’s attention, even if I wouldn’t do anything with it, was too delicious not to drool all over.

Just there, in the distance, sitting on a bench, Shane pressed his knees together and scribbled in his red notebook, the blue one placed underneath it for support.

Occasionally, he looked up, watching me as I lifted heavy dumbbells—left, right, left, right—my face stern and sweat breaking over my brow, chest, and back.

He observed me for nearly two hours before I called it a day.

Without a word, Shane got up and followed me into the locker room, where he sat on another bench and noted the ending of the routine.

I stood in front of the mirror, looking at my arms and numb with fatigue after trying to elicit some sort of impressed reaction from Shane all this time, and he was focused on his notebook, small in the distance behind me.

“I’ll take a quick shower. I stink,” I said. I waited for a reply, but Shane only nodded and mumbled some kind of assent.

I walked over to my locker, my chest growing tight with anticipation, and I took the bottom edge of my T-shirt into a firm grip.

I could almost feel the point of his gaze landing on the back of my head, or it was all just my imagination.

I could imagine him very clearly just now, even though he was out of my view.

His lips parting, breath barely leaving his lungs, fingers folding around the notebook, a little squirm on the bench, and the gaze so intense and hungry that it devoured my soul in the moment that followed.

I lifted my T-shirt over my head and tossed it into the backpack, my heart thundering like mad. It was almost as though the weight of his staring heated up the muscles in my upper back. He watched me undress, and it was the most exhilarating thing.

If it’s a show you want , I thought, pumping up my excitement.

My thumbs hooked the waistband of my shorts and underwear.

It didn’t bother me to be naked around guys, never had, after years of shared locker rooms and showers.

And it definitely didn’t bother me to be watched with so much interest. It fed my not-so-secret vanity.

The fabric stretched and slipped over my ass, dropping down my legs to fold around my ankles.

Even though I had enough confidence to fill up the entire locker room, my fingers gave a slight tremble I hadn’t seen coming.

I bent down after stepping out of my clothes and picked them up, not looking at Shane.

I tossed my stuff inside the locker and picked up a towel from the backpack, then walked across the locker room with a smirk decorating my face before slipping into the showers.

When I was alone, the heat reached my face. That had been a needless exhibition, and I knew it. Even so, it felt good to be noticed.

And you’ll do just about anything for attention , I scolded myself, letting cold water run. I half expected the droplets to sizzle and evaporate the moment they touched my burning skin, but the water cooled me down instead.

I showered quickly, washing off the sweat and drying myself with the fluffy towel before tossing it over my shoulder and pumping myself up to return to the locker room.

The momentary freakiness of my earlier intentions was gone, and, as always, I had to deal with the consequences.

The consequence on hand was a walk of shame in front of Shane and quick dressing.

But being shy about it now would only portray me as an unstable attention seeker.

Walking back into the locker room, I pinned Shane with my gaze for no other reason than the fact that he was right in front of me, only on the opposite side of the room.

He looked, probably thinking I wouldn’t be watching him, and his gaze dragged up my body just the same way it had the night he’d measured my waist. Sinking into his oversized clothes, he let himself examine every inch of me, moving his gaze up my legs, over my dick and balls—where it lingered just a little too long—up my abs and pecs before finally reaching my eyes.

I had been walking over to my locker all that time, but he saw that I had been observing him. He looked into my eyes, guilt filling those chestnuts of his, lingered, and looked down at the notebook.

“Do I get to read what you’re writing?” I asked, shattering the stuffy silence in the locker room while picking up my underwear and putting them on.

“I, uh, don’t think…no. It’s better if you don’t,” Shane said.

“That bad?” I asked, trying for a chuckle but producing a weird, strangled sound instead.

“Not at all,” Shane said, finding some firm ground. “It’s just that I don’t want you to tweak your behavior in any way.”

“I might be faking it all along,” I said with a shrug, then dragged a pair of pants up my legs. I tucked my bulge in and pulled the zipper up, turning to Shane with an apologetic smile. “I’m not, by the way.”

“That’s alright,” Shane said. “That’s why it lasts an entire semester. It’s normal to be very aware of being observed at the start. As time goes by, your natural rhythm will return.”

“What? You think I’m faking?” I asked, lifting a clean T-shirt.

Shane shot me a secretive smile. Dimples emerged on each side of his face. Odd how I hadn’t noticed them before. “I think you’re giving too much attention, and that’s normal.”

“Just being myself,” I said. He didn’t say anything to that.

His focus returned, and he scribbled into the blue notebook, then shut it closed before I could peek inside.

The way he so easily cut me out at will pushed a button I didn’t know existed.

“If you really want to shadow me, let’s have a beer,” I said.

“Is a beer something you normally have right after a workout?” he asked, his voice cool and analytical.

Fuck , I thought. “No. I’ll have chicken, rice, and broccoli first and grab a beer in a few hours.”

“Is that often your lunch?” Shane asked.

I shrugged. “It’s what I have in the fridge.”

He nodded.

“So? A drink after? I’ll get you something pink if you want. Just the two of us.”

Shane hesitated. “I’m not sure that’s appropriate.”

“I’m sure a scientist would know how to delineate personal and professional matters,” I said. “Besides, you can bring a notebook if you have to.”

“Alright,” Shane said.

Then I suspected that my insistence on having a drink was about to make its way into his notes. There was no winning here.

Shane waited for me in front of the library. I’d offered him a meal when I was cooking already, but he had already eaten. His backpack appeared much heavier after the intermission, so I had a good idea of where he had spent the last hour and a half.

“How many times a day do you change your clothes?” Shane asked as I joined him at the bottom of the stairs before the library.

“You mean this old thing?” I asked. I looked very good in a tailored shirt that hugged my waist and emphasized my chest and shoulders. Slim-fit pants were a winner, too, especially when the shirt was quarter-tucked. “I just threw it on.”

“Immeasurable, then?” Shane offered and fell in step with me, crossing the street to Lumière.

I shot him a look of disbelief. “He jokes.”

Shane chuckled to himself and quickly looked down as if the attention was more than he could handle. Maybe it was. It only made me want to attend to him more.

“My wingmen are both taken,” I grumbled. “Aren’t people in relationships the most boring ever?”

Shane shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Aren’t your friends getting all cozy in their relationships?” I asked.

Shane glanced at me apprehensively. “I don’t have that many friends. Not here, at least.” When he saw me frown in confusion, he hurried to explain. “I’m focused on my studies. That doesn’t leave you with a lot of time to make friends.”

“Everyone should have friends,” I said. I knew I sounded like a smart-ass, and I didn’t want to be condescending, but Christ Almighty, how did he survive all these years without a pack?

I never would have pulled through on my own.

The pressure of each new academic year, of hockey, of team responsibilities, and so much more was unbearable without people who were in the same boat as you. “Boyfriends?” I asked.

Shane looked at me with horror.

I cringed. “Or girlfriends. You know?” That was a lame attempt to save myself.

But Shane shook his head. “No, you guessed it. I’m gay, but…” He looked at Lumière longingly. “Aren’t we going inside?”

I measured him for a heartbeat or two. No friends, no boyfriends, just his studies. “You have friends now,” I said softly. “Me and my guys.”

Shane looked into my eyes with something cold and detached. “That’s a nice thing to say, Patrick, but I don’t know you. Any of you. And you, well, can’t be my friend. I’m your shadow, remember?”

“I don’t get it, though,” I said, not letting him get off the hook so easily. We stepped into the bar, but it was quiet tonight, and I kept my voice low for Shane. “Why aren’t you dating anyone? It’s not like you couldn’t pick up a guy if you wanted to.”

He snorted as if I’d said a mean joke. Then he looked at me and discovered just how serious I was. He frowned in thought, then inched a little closer. “I don’t even know where I would start.”

It clicked together. A shy nerd with a head full of dreams and wonders and a tongue so tied he didn’t dare speak to people in fear of tripping over his words. I grinned. “Good thing you’re shadowing me, then,” I said. “Watch and learn.”

I led Shane to the bar and ordered us a light beer each. He wasn’t thrilled by it, but he didn’t fuss. We sat on bar stools and faced one another.

“Personal question,” I offered.

“If you must,” Shane sighed.

“Have you ever dated anyone?” It was an important thing to establish if I were to show him a few flirtatious moves.

Shane’s reddening face answered before his lips had a chance. “Um, no. I haven’t…been…” He shook his head.

“Gotcha. And are you waiting for the special one?” I asked.

It wasn’t a joke or a tease. Some people wanted to wait.

I didn’t see how that was possible when so many were throwing themselves at you for attention and one-off fun, but good for those who could resist the song of the mermaids. Me? I shipwrecked every single time.

But Shane thought I was making fun of him. His eyebrows flattened over his eyes, and he shook his head. “Funny.”

“That’s a no?” I asked.

“I think this was a mistake,” Shane told me flatly. “We shouldn’t be so familiar, Patrick.”

“What? I’m just getting to know you,” I said.

“If you’re on the market, guys should know that.

You know? Shadow me, now.” The good news was that he didn’t get up and leave.

He observed as I narrated what I would do.

“Look around and see if there’s anyone catching your attention.

For example, those three girls over there. ”

Shane snort-chuckled.

“It’s applicable across the spectrum,” I said wisely.

“If I were here to hook up, I’d say they were on the lookout.

See how they’re keeping the chatter to a minimum?

They’re watching, waiting, weighing.” And sure enough, the blonde glanced at me, her gaze lingering on mine for a few exhilarating moments before she looked away and pretended like it hadn’t felt amazing.

“Be like that,” I said. “If you want to be picked up. Or, if you’d rather be the one doing the work, watch and learn.

” I lifted my beer and waited for the next time the blonde looked at me.

My eyebrows gave the smallest wiggle as I tilted my glass in a little salute.

She smiled at me, shaking her head as if to reprimand me for being such a devil, and my heart thundered. I turned to Shane to tell him the hard part was over, but he had a lost look in his eyes and a stoney face.

I shrugged. “Goes something like that, anyway.”

Shane cleared his throat and forced a smile. “Some people just have it. Others don’t.” He held his backpack tighter. “I think I should go.”

I wanted to protest, but he was already up, saying we would see each other tomorrow and wishing me luck with the girl. As he walked away, I watched him disappear. Alone, I sat at the bar with my half-finished beer, not really interested in the girl anymore.