Especially when I arrived and he wasn’t anywhere to be found.
Just as the professor appeared about to start his lecture, Tate rushed through the door with that damn overstuffed backpack of his. With a grimace, he mouthed a “sorry” to Dr. Louden, then tucked his head and rushed up the steps.
I expected him to sit as far away from me as possible and was completely speechless when he flopped beside me, a bit out of breath. After flipping the folding desk up into place, he rooted through the backpack now sitting at his feet and began to pull out the stuff he’d need for class.
Not once had he glanced at me. Or given me any kind of recognition.
He had said nothing. As if I was invisible.
So, I said nothing, too.
Dr. Louden said everything for the next seventy-five minutes.
But after ten ticks of the long hand on the round analog clock on the wall above Dr. Louden’s head, I sensed when Tate finally settled in. His breathing returned to normal, his knees had spread, his shoulders dropped and he scrubbed both palms down his denim-encased thighs.
Him relaxing helped me relax, too. I was just relieved he didn’t detest me.
That I hadn’t disgusted him.
That tiny sliver of hope returned.
After two more ticks of the clock’s long hand, something brushed the side of my left hand where I had it pinned to my outer thigh.
It happened again. A whisper of a touch.
Then once more.
The last time wasn’t so subtle. Tate’s pinky hooked with mine under my desk where no one would see it.
I breathed a little easier, my mind cleared and I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t grin like a damn fool, drawing attention.
We stayed like that for the remainder of the class.
Connected.
We weren’t holding hands but it was close enough.
And like Tate becoming a habit, that little gesture became one, too. It continued until the end of the semester and we no longer shared a class.
Though, after that, I missed that little secret. It was one secret I didn’t mind keeping versus all the rest that eventually came later.
What I hadn’t realized that first time or even in those remaining few weeks of our creative writing class, the connection with our pinkies was not only the beginning, it also led us to the end.
Now standing in front of the door at the top of the steps, I dragged myself out of the past and lifted my head. With my fingers curled around the handle, I stiffened my spine along with my resolve, and shoved open the door.
Once I stepped out, I paused for a second, letting my gaze sweep the rooftop to make sure no one else was around. Once I confirmed that, it landed on the man waiting.
Tate was on his knees like I demanded, but not where he was the other night. This time he was kneeling under one of the fabric-covered pergolas. The white string lights cast a soft glow on his bare skin. He wasn’t completely naked but wore swim trunks and from where I stood, it appeared his hair might be damp. He must have come up for a swim first.
But what caught my attention was not only was he facing my private door where I exited, but his head was tipped down.
In submission?
We had never been into that. We’d been basic back then. Two guys enjoying exploring and learning about each other.
Or was he bowing his head in forgiveness?
If so, I wasn’t ready to forgive him. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be.
The roof was quiet. The only noise reaching my ears was the hum of the pool filtration system and the distant, muted street noise from below.
As well as my own racing heart.
“Why is no one ever up here?” Tate whispered as I took my time approaching him.
I hadn’t planned on talking, but even as angry as I was, I’d give him that. “The pool’s closed after ten. That means no one should be up here. It’s why I come up here when I do. It’s also why I told you to come up here before the door locks.”
I stepped in front of him and stared down at the top of his dark head for a few seconds before gently tracing my fingertips from his forehead down along the side of his face.
A whisper of a touch. A simple caress.
I tucked them under his chin and tipped his face up with a rough jerk.
A strong reminder.
He didn’t resist. Instead, he lifted his blue eyes to mine.
I saw what was in them and I almost took a step back.
Complete submission.
I could do whatever I wanted to him right now and he’d let me.
This was not the Tate I remembered. Nor was it the Tate I had fallen in love with.
“How long have you been waiting?”