I laugh, but it’s kind of forced because my mind is spinning thinking about how fast Jack switched from running scared to inviting me back to his dorm for Netflix and … Mountain Dew.

“I made the decision that if I’m going to stop running, I need to be all in. With you. And not in that way, like sex, I mean,” he stammers. “I just wanted to be near you tonight. Make it a little romantic. And maybe”—he kisses me—“do some more”—he kisses me again, his tongue wedging between my lips—“of this.” He nibbles my bottom lip. “Did you shower since the open mic?”

“Maybe.”

He smirks and raises his eyebrows. “You really went all out, huh?”

“Shut up.” I shove him away lightly.

“You mind if I change?” he asks. “Open mic clothes smell like the Hole.” His brows crinkle. “You know, that’s truly a terrible name for a place where people eat. They didn’t workshop that one, huh?”

I shrug. “I dunno, sounds delicious to me.”

He whips his head. “Oh.”

I try not to look, but he subtly adjusts himself. Actually, it’s better if I turn away entirely as he changes into basketball shorts and a ribbed tank. I hear the mattress springs boing, and when I turn around, he’s flopped on the bed, legs crossed, looking like a snack underwear advertisement. Not so coincidentally, it reminds me of one of my “I’m very, obviously, obscenely gay” moments as a kid. There is nothing like being in the underwear aisle of Target while Mom yelled at me to come and try on a pair of cheap, oversize khakis.

“You look nice,” he says.

“Xavier dressed me. Too much?”

Jack bends over and reaches under his bed. He grabs a pair of basketball shorts and tosses them at me. “Seriously, those jeans look restrictive.”

He’s not wrong, given my ever-growing boner.

“I won’t peek,” he says, noticing my hesitation.

“I’ll be fine,” I say.

“Oh, come on.”

I sigh. “I’m not wearing underwear.”

A hunger brews in his eyes, transforms his face, but he bites it back. “That’s kinda hot. Not gonna lie.” Then he covers his face and turns away. “I’m not looking. Just change. Be free.” His voice is steady, reassuring.

“Okayyyyyyy.” I peel off the skintight jeans, fold them nicely, and neatly hang them on the far end of Jack’s bed frame. Sliding into Jack’s shorts knowing my dick is now pressing into the same place his does instantly gets me even harder. I try to hide it, but it’s not working. At. All. I guess I have no choice but to pounce into his bed and keep the leg closest to him bent so he can’t see. “How do I look?”