Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Everyone in the class snickers.
Zach makes eye contact with me, and I feel his stare the entire way to my seat next to Jacobs.
“Who’s the kid?” he whispers.
I shrug.
Then I immediately feel bad. It’s not like I don’t know him. But it’s also clear he doesn’t want my help even if Seth insists he needs it. So, whatever.
Our eyes lock, but he quickly turns away. His cheeks are a little flushed, and he focuses so hard on the laptop screen in front of him I can only figure he’s watching porn.
No man focuses that hard on a computer screen for anything else.
Then again, this is Zach. From what Seth’s told me, chances are he’s got coursework on his screen right now.
Probably more appropriate for class.
What I don’t understand is—
“My TA this semester is Zach Sawyer. His contact details are on the website and on the information sheet being passed around right now. If you need to get in contact with me outside of office hours, you go through him.”
Zach hands out papers to the front row to take and pass backward.
He’s the TA for this class. Sports psychology. Sports. And Zach.
Jacobs leans in. “Are we in the right room? What does that kid know about sports?”
Even though I was thinking the same thing, hearing it from someone else makes me growly.
“He did his undergrad in three years and is doing his master’s in psych. I’m sure he can handle it.” I’m actually not sure he can handle it, but for some reason, I have the urge to defend him.
Because Seth asked me to? Because of something else? I don’t know.
“So, you do know who he is?”
“He’s my brother’s friend. I barely know him.” I feel Jacobs’s eyes on me while I keep watching Zach.
He keeps his head down.
His graphic T and jeans suit him, but maybe that’s because it’s all I’m used to seeing him wear.
It’s weird. He somehow lacks confidence but exudes an I don’t care attitude at the same time.
Maybe I didn’t handle the bird shit incident as well as I could have. I probably should have helped him instead of finding it amusing, but I don’t think that’s the reason he told me to stay away.
I honestly think he doesn’t want me hanging around him.
And that fascinates me.
“Uh-oh,” Jacobs says. “I know that look. You’re not allowed to bang the TA.”
I shush him with an elbow to the gut. “Dude.”
“What? It’s not like no one knows about you. Not after you made out with that frat guy at the Kappa party last year.”
I did more than make out with him, but that’s not the point. It’s not a secret on campus that I swing both ways, but I still don’t go around throwing my sexuality in everyone’s faces.
The team is mostly cool with it apart from a couple of guys who try to avoid me in the locker room, but that’s okay with me. At least they’re not making a big deal out of it.
I don’t know if Seth’s told Zach about me or not.
I wouldn’t be mad if he had, but Seth’s been so supportive about the whole thing I assume he wouldn’t out me to anyone without asking or at least telling me. Even his best friend.
Seth was the first person I told. It was on our fifteenth birthday. I told him I thought I was gay. He hugged me and said if anyone hates me for it, they’re dickheads. He also told me he’d beat anyone up for me if he had to, but that I had a better chance at actually doing damage if I did it myself. Especially if I had my hockey gear with me.
Six months later, I told him it turned out I was bi. He asked what had changed. I said getting a blowjob from Jade Mackenzie in the locker room at school. He’s since learned not to ask too many questions.
Jacobs leans in closer. “You’d definitely have a chance. That guy is gay as f—”
“Stereotype much? What makes you think he’s gay?” I know for a fact Zach is gay. Over the past three years, he’s spent most holidays with us instead of flying home to … wherever he’s from. The Midwest somewhere, I think. But one of those times—Thanksgiving maybe—Mom asked if he had a girlfriend.
He’d snorted. “That will never happen.” When Mom asked about a boyfriend, he said, “That’ll never happen either but for other reasons.” His pale cheeks had gone pink at that. I remember because I might have gotten off to the image of his flushed cheeks later that night.
Still, I hate it when someone looks at another person and assumes they know how they identify. Just like everyone looks at me and assumes I’m straight because of hockey.
“You can tell,” Jacobs says.
I grunt.
Class moves by in a blur because I can’t take my eyes off Zach.