“I’m certain it doesn’t work that way.” At least I’m reasonably sure it doesn’t.
Foster tugs on my sleeve and nods toward the side of the room. I follow him because at this point, I’m so far out of my realm of experience that I need him to anchor me. “You okay?”
“Physically, yes.”
“Can you give me a straight answer? You know what I’m asking.”
“I …” Am afraid of saying anything that will make you realize how distinctly uncool I am. “… am a little out of my comfort zone.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“I don’t think you know what it’s like. You’re comfortable everywhere.”
“I pretend to be comfortable everywhere.”
I level him with a look that very clearly conveys my disbelief, and to my surprise, he laughs.
“Okay, so I usually am comfortable. But that’s because I know words can’t hurt me. Who cares what people say?”
“Words hurt. And so do other things.”
“Other th—Zach, has someone hurt you? Seth hinted at something, but—”
I frantically shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. That’s not my point here. The point is we clearly lead very different lives. Societal standards work in your favor. You’re fit, conventionally attractive, smart, and exhibit the traits of self-confidence that people find appealing.”
His lips twitch. “Conventionally attractive? Conventionally?”
“Also not the point.” I can’t help a small laugh.
“You think you’re the opposite of me?”
“Exactly.”
“Hm. I disagree.”
“Based on what evidence?”
Foster’s gaze slowly trails down my body, sending pleasant ripples radiating into my limbs. Then he snaps his head away. “Seth speaks highly of you, and my brother is a picky bastard when it comes to friends.”
That isn’t evidence.
“So am I,” he continues. “And we’re friends, aren’t we?”
“I don’t think we can be.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I’m your TA. It could be seen as a conflict of interest.”
“No way. Most TAs are friends with the students on some level because usually they’ve been through classes with them. We can be friends. We’re just not allowed to fuck.”
I stare. And stare. Because now he’s gone and put that image into my brain, and I can never unsee it. If he’s expecting a response, he’s going to be waiting a long time.
“Grant! There you are.”
I step back as Foster’s friend from class joins us, knocking their shoulders together.
“Dude, what are you doing here?” Foster asks, and with both of them standing over me, it occurs to me how impressively tall Foster is.
“Ah … Coach wanted me to let you know you’re running drills at practice tomorrow.”
“Why the hell did I need a head’s up for that?”
“Don’t ask me how his mind works.” His friend won’t look him in the eye. It seems off.
I tilt my head. “Couldn’t that be conveyed in a text?” I regret speaking the second the words leave my mouth because I’m suddenly the subject of both of their attention.
His friend’s face lights up. “It’s the TA. You—”
“Jacobs.” Foster shoots him a look before tugging his friend away. “Be back in a second, Zach.”
They leave, and it’s a relief to not feel like I’m surrounded by a wall of muscle. I watch as they talk quietly a few feet away, and it doesn’t surprise me that Foster’s friend is as good looking as he is. With how close they seem to be, maybe he’s Foster’s type?
I’m reminded of the casual touching and easy banter they share during class, and it sets off that foreign sick feeling I experienced earlier. Emotions are transient. It’s nothing more than a temporary slip in control. Control I will regain. I remind myself for the millionth time this week that my body is reacting to the alpha in Foster and nothing more. And yet … I look at his friend. He’s very clearly on the same level as Foster when it comes to respectability within the school, and he’s large and attractive, but the dose of chemistry is absent.
And that’s enough of that.
Only, now I’m not thinking about them, I’m overly focused on the fact Foster left me here. Alone. Somewhere I don’t even want to be.
I wonder if anyone will notice if I slip away.
Ray’s eyes meet mine from across the room.
I’ll have to make my escape when she’s not looking.
9
Foster
We’ve barely reached outside, the early fall air turning cool already and sending a shiver through me, when Jacobs rounds on me. “Are you on a date right now?”
“It’s not a date. For the millionth time, he’s—”
“Your brother’s best friend. Uh-huh. Sure. You had your arm around him.”
I gasp. “Scandalous. Wait, how long were you in there—”
“I thought you were trying to fuck the guy, not”—Jacobs waves his hand in the direction of the building—“whatever that was in there.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter. “It’s not like that.”
It’s not.
Not. At. All.
Jacobs looks like he doesn’t believe me.
“Okay, so what if it is? I mean, it isn’t, but what if it was? Why are you acting like a jealous boyfriend? Do I need to remind you you’re straight? Straight, straight, straight, as you put it when I came out to you. You know, in case I ever in my wildest dreams thought of you that way.”