Page 14 of Show Me
“Your doorframe poses are on point. Perfect bulging bicep-to-sleeve ratio there. How long did it take you to perfect it?” I arched a brow.
Sam glanced down at his arm and chuckled. “Guess I got lucky and nailed it on the first try.”
Well, that backfired. I wondered what else he nailed on the first try. I cleared my throat and thumbed toward my abandoned laptop. “What’s up? I’m kinda in the middle of something.” Technically I was in the middle of next week’s reading for Advanced Comp and retaining none of it.
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” He dropped his arm from the frame and shoved one hand in the pocket of his navy track pants, which were almost as good as gray sweats. Almost. Navy’s downfall was that it hid more than gray. “I just wanted to say that you should sit with us if you want to. In class I mean. Most of the guys are cool. Don’t let Reid run you off.”
Get ahold of yourself, man. Stop imagining how his biceps flexed as he jerked himself off at the campaign party.It occurred to me he must have wiped himself down good in there because I’d bumped smack-dab into his chest and didn’t even catch a whiff. Oh god, now I’d not only repeatedly watched my roommate jacking off, I’d also literally bumped into his spunk.
“Okay, thanks for the offer. I mean, I know. I just wanted to sit with my… friend today.”
“Was that the guy in the glasses next to you?”
Cue internal wince. Had we even exchanged names? I didn’t think we had. I nodded. “Yeah, that’s him. He’s a nice guy. Anyway, thanks for the offer.”
“Cool.”
I thought we were done, but Sam lingered and, after a couple of beats of silence, went ahead and invited himself in. He stopped at my bookshelf and ran a finger along the spines of the paperbacks I’d brought with me from home. I’d had this lame idea that I’d meet the love of my life and share all my favorites with him. Reid had hated reading, and I’d never been with anyone else long enough to even bother.
“I think I read one of these, maybe.” His finger had stopped on an eggplant-colored spine ofThrice Bound By Oath. “They were really big back in the day, right?”
“Still are. It’s my favorite series. I reread the whole thing at least once a year. Sword fighting, intrigue, romance, betrayal, declarations of fealty.” I paused for a wistful sigh. “And all the LGBT rep a starry-eyed little gay boy like me could hope for. I was obsessed when I was a teen. Maybe I still am, but shhh. They lived under my bed for years at home so they wouldn’t get lost or destroyed.”
Sam’s brows flickered together with such overt concern it almost took me aback. “Your parents aren’t okay with you being gay?”
“Oh no, nothing like that. I mean, I assume they are. We’ve honestly never had a sit-down about it, ever. I’m not sure we needed to. I just mean that things tended to vanish with that much constant foot traffic in our house. We hoarded our precious shit like dragons.”
Sam tilted the book out from the shelf. “Are there dragons in this? I can’t remember.”
“Yes, actually.”
He studied the book a moment longer with a faint smile and then moved on, pointing to a big leather scrapbook on my dresser. “What’s this?”
“My younger sis made it for me before I left for freshman year. She was going through a scrapbooking phase.”
He traced a finger over the binding before cutting a look over his shoulder at me and lifting his brows. “Can I look?”
“Sure.” Better that than the boner that was forming for the slyness in his expression, like he was about to discover some secret about me by going through my scrapbook. Good luck. I couldn’t deny that his undivided attention was flattering, though. I’d never had it before, and I’d underestimated how inviting it was. He was also the first person to ever express any interest in looking through my old photos.
Sam picked up the scrapbook, carried it over, and helped himself to a patch of my bed, flopping onto his stomach and sending up a cloud of laundry detergent and the scent of his deodorant. Old Spice Fresh scent. Not that I’d checked or anything.
“Wow. You were on swim team.” He stared down at the photos, transfixed, and I cracked up at the note of wonder in his voice.
“Yes, my limbs are occasionally capable of coordinated movement in a sports-like fashion.”
He flashed that same sideways smile that made me feel off balance. “I didn’t mean it like that. Well, at least not intentionally. I see it now, though, in your shoulders.” He scrutinized the picture again. “You were good, too. Did you get scouted for the U or anything?”
“Nah. I didn’t have the times. Maybe I could have, but I wasn’t… It was just something I did and was decently good at. I didn’t have the passion for it, you know? At least not enough to make my entire college career focused on it.”
Sam nodded thoughtfully and flipped the page, asking about the people in the photos. I pointed out my sisters and brothers. Our dog, Daisy. I kept waiting for him to get bored and move on, but he went through the whole damn thing, scrutinizing every photograph and the little quotes and decorations my sister had included.
“So did you ever talk to John?” He fiddled with the edge of a photograph, muttering ashitand pressing his thumb back over it and trying to tamp it back down when it came unglued.
“Not yet.”
“What? After all that smack talk about my wingman skills, you haven’t even put the results to good use?” He closed the scrapbook and folded his arms over the top of it, staring up at me. “Did you get scared?”
“No. I just forgot.” Sorta. Why did my laugh sound like it was tinged with guilt? “But now that you’ve reminded me, I’ll do it in a minute.”