Show Me (Extracurricular Activities #3) - Neve Wilder Page 0,1

surrender before fitting the key in the door, turning it, and stepping back. He gestured with a pained flourish.

I pushed the door open wordlessly.

Taylor Swift’s voice poured out of a Bluetooth speaker, disconcertingly peppy. Reid’s back was to me, bare ass pistoning as he swiveled his hips in time to the beat. Or attempted to. Until five seconds ago, I’d found his lack of rhythm endearing. I caught a flash of wavy blond hair and the pink gleam of manicured nails as the girl on her knees in front of him smacked his ass abruptly.

“Fuck yeah,” he growled enthusiastically.

“Reid!” She and I both shouted over the music in awkward unison.

I glared at her for the unwanted solidarity.

Reid looked over his shoulder at me, the glazed cast to his eyes sobering. “Shit,” he muttered. “But you have class right now!” As if I was the one who’d fucked up.

For a second it worked, and I was thrown into confusion that cleared when the girl looked between us, her eyes narrowing. “Is this your—”

“My tutor!” Reid covered his junk and shot me a pointed look as Chet groaned behind me.

I mustered my sweetest, most patient smile, honed over too many years of siblings’ birthday parties, the countless number of times I’d been sneezed or vomited upon, the numerous repetitive birthday and Christmas gifts from extended family who couldn’t keep me and my siblings straight, and the single time I’d lied for my brother Jack when he’d come home hammered after junior prom.

I nodded as the girl looked at me for confirmation. “We’ve been working together for a few months. I’m so sorry about his rhythm. We’re still workshopping that, but it looks like he gets a gold star for sneaking in extra practice. Mind your eyes. His aim’s not exactly on point either, which is kind of funny given his accuracy with a football.”

“Jesse.” The resigned plea in Reid’s expression was worse than walking in on him had been.

I put up my hand. “Nope. You’ve found another study partner. It’s cool.”

I flinched at the touch on my elbow but allowed Chet to steer me from the room.

“That was a dick move. He’s a dick,” he grumbled, guiding me down the hallway. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to…wherever.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted, shaking free of Chet’s grasp. “Really. I’ll see you around.” I jetted toward the stairwell before he could say anything else.

I’d always hoped that if I found myself in this situation, I would be smooth and impervious. That I would simply cock a brow, then turn around and walk out, haughty and confident, cool as David Gandy in a Dolce and Gabbana commercial. Except I looked nothing like David Gandy. People seemed to want to ruffle my hair a lot, and I had suffered excessive cheek pinching as a kid. But I liked to think that over the last year, I’d really outgrown my extended gawky phase and blossomed into the kind of stylish twink I’d always hoped to be.

Eyes stinging, I raced across the quad to my dorm, saying a silent prayer that Nate would be gone so I could fling myself dramatically onto my bed and sob into my pillow. Then I’d regroup and immediately begin formulating my phoenix moment. I would definitely need hair dye.

Possibly scissors.

But of course I wasn’t that lucky. When I opened the door, Nate was sitting at his computer chuckling at something on the screen. A vaguely recognizable blond hunk stood next to him tossing a football in the air.

God, even the sight of that pigskin made my stomach lurch. How the fuck did people manage this with finesse? Be Meryl Streep, I told myself. Calm, cool, and with that badass bitch swoopy hairdo she’d owned in The Devil Wears Prada. Hmm, maybe I should go for that kind of coif. Would it look good with my cheekbones? Did the attitude come with it?

Strangely, as Nate and Blondie’s gazes swung in my direction, it was then that the heat in my cheeks rose to my eyes and spilled over.

Nate’s half-smile slid from his face. “Whoa. Jesse. Everything okay, man?”

I nodded rapidly. “Totally fine. It was just a little hot outside and…and I walked in on my boyfriend’s cock so far down a girl’s throat he could charge an endoscopy fee. She had really nice boobs.” Somehow that was the thing that burned the most. As a gay guy, I knew I wasn’t supposed to judge my brethren, that bisexuals were just as valid as I was