“You had to go and ruin it, huh?” he says, playfully punching my arm.

I glance down, and he’s tenting. “Yeah, I really ruined it.”

He immediately covers his dick, pressing it down. His body strains as he tries to temper it, but clearly, it’s not going anywhere. “I haven’t jerked off since the night of the Years & Years show.”

“You jerked off that night?” I ask.

I didn’t think it was possible for Jack to blush on top of his already reddened sex cheeks, but I’m learning a lot tonight.

“The truth shall set you free,” I add.

“I was so charged,” he starts. “I really wanted to kiss you, but, you know, I was too scared. And I couldn’t stop thinking of you when I got back to my dorm, and Rhett was out practicing in the music school. Dickful thinking.”

“That’s kinda hot.”

He looks at me expectantly.

But I don’t give him what he wants. Which drives him crazy.

“What else did I miss when you vanished on me?” I ask, hoping to drive the conversation away from his dick, which looked perfect and delicious through his mesh shorts.

He lets out a pained groan. “Oh, actually, a lot. I joined the crew team.”

I sit up. “Wait. We have a crew team? At CIA?”

“Technically CIA has a deal with Laurene where CIA students can join Laurene’s crew team, but yeah. I mean, we are on the Finger Lakes.”

My eyes travel to Jack’s chest, still sheathed in a tank top. His pecs look bigger now, up close, than I remember. Fuck.

“I’m intrigued.”

He sighs. “Intrigue is a great word. Full of mystery and excitement.”

“Kind of feels like a detective of a word,” I say. “Like, if the word were a person, it’d be a noir detective from a black-and-white film.”

“Noir,” he repeats. “Another one.”

“My seminar professor uses that word every. Single. Class,” I say. “It’s lost all meaning. So tell me about this crew sports thing.”

“I have to be up at four a.m. to get the first bus to Laurene,” he says. “We practice rowing in a giant tank. I’m dead by the time I get back.” He flexes his shoulders.

“Every morning?”

“Five times a week. Got one tomorrow.”

“Shit, I can go if you need to sleep,” I offer, shifting my weight on the mattress.

“No,” he says quickly, gripping my thigh so I don’t leave.

I snuggle up next to him, wanting to be closer than physically possible.

“How’s your creative writing assignment? The Hero’s Journey thing?” I ask.

“Ahhh.” His head rolls back and bangs the headboard. “A turning point has been made. I had a conference with my professor, and I think we got to a mutually beneficial place through some artful bartering.”