Electric Rendezvous

I don't precisely remember how I got back from the party to my dorm room that night. Followed by Adrian's eyes, filled with hurt and confusion, I stalked out of the room, mumbling something as means of apology to the girl who'd gotten me off with her mouth. She didn't seem to care, as she was already too busy congressing with her girlfriend, ignoring me completely as if I'd been nothing but a penis for her to suck.

Adrian, on the other hand... I just couldn't look at him anymore. After my short-lived victory, the acidic bitter taste was back in my mouth, and I wanted nothing to do with that room, those girls, and even him.

I stumbled down the stairs; thinking back, it was a wonder I didn't break my neck on my way out.

Then, it's all a blur.

It was around four in the morning when Adrian returned. I pretended to be asleep while he fumbled in the dark, hitting something and cursing under his breath. If there was an aftermath to what had transpired during our little orgy with members of the fairer sex, I didn't want to have anything to do with it.

Let's pretend it didn't happen.

I didn't just watch you fucking someone else.

You didn't just watch me put on a show for you, because that's what you asked.

As you can easily imagine, I didn't dare speak a word of all that. I just waited for him to chill and get in bed, too, which he eventually did, turning his back to me and remaining on one side.

But he didn't fall asleep. I was holding my breath so I could hear his, and it was clear his breathing wasn't dropping to the steady rhythm of someone who was drifting off.

Those were angry hours. Adrian was the only one to blame, I told myself, over and over, but I couldn't shake off the guilt. It had been pounded into me for too long to forget about it. What could I say? That I was sorry? About what?

He hadn't come, at least before I left. His hookup seemed in no mood to get him off once she got her pleasure out of him. What a selfish prick. Yeah, girls can be pricks, too. Feel free to disagree.

Things could've gone in all directions after my leaving. The two girls could've jumped on his dick, licking and sucking until he blew all over their faces, the taste of him on their tongues mixed with the chemical coating of the condom he must've removed so he could enjoy that blowjob.

Only that he hadn't moved like someone with empty balls when he got back. No, he was still angry. And I was hoping that he was angry at me more than at himself, regardless of what I had been hoping in the first place.

***

We were back to being strangers. Adrian disappeared from our dorm room the moment he got up. Really, he couldn't get dressed fast enough to be out the door. Everything he did, he used snappy, short moves that made me flinch on occasion. It wasn't like I was really expecting him to get violent with me, because despite the bad boy persona he tried to project, he was just normal. Within limits, seeing how his plan to make me get it on with a girl eventually backfired and hurt him more than it hurt me.

I wanted to leave it at that, because I was well aware that we couldn't be good for or to each other. Or both. However, I noticed that he wasn't hooking up left and right like he used to. Through the grapevine, I heard that he was 'consumed by his passion' and therefore, excused from fucking pussy, somehow.

His academic performance improved. I had no intention to call his mom and let her know her wayward son was back to his old self, the one with a passion for art and less for fucking up. But she called to thank me, and I accepted her gratitude after some initial polite protestations.

"Are you boys coming home for Thanksgiving?"

Her question took me by surprise. Time did fly, as trite as that may sound. And Adrian had mentioned something before about how we would have to be back home for that particular holiday. He'd even said that I'd be there, regardless of whether I wanted to or not. I doubted he still felt that strongly about having me around at our shared familial Thanksgiving dinner, the first of our lives.

I made up something about preferring to spend the holidays, winter break included, on campus. A lot to study, too much material to cover, yada-yada.

"Don't work yourself to the bone from your first year in college, Jordan," she said kindly.

But I had to. One, because I needed to secure the independent financial future I wanted, and two, because it was the only way for me to forget about Adrian and not obsess over him constantly. If left to my own designs, I would've probably done nothing but wallow in unexpected feelings of loss over his lack of communication with me.

I asked her, just as kindly, not to worry about me. Luckily for me, she didn't try to mother the extra son she'd gotten through her association with my dad. I hadn't heard from him, but I wasn't expecting that anyway.

***

I missed the luggage dropped in front of the door by an inch. Adrian was leaving for Thanksgiving, but that shouldn't mean that he was free to block the only exit we had with his stuff. He was nowhere in sight, which meant that I'd probably get a glimpse of him one last time before he left.

Or maybe not. I sat at the desk and pulled out my textbooks. The topics were dry and difficult at times, but they worked like balm for my wretched soul.

The door opened behind me.

"You're not ready yet?"

I played with the idea of ignoring him, but only for a moment. "Ready for what?" I asked, without turning.

My entire body was aware of his, moving through the room. Adrian leaned against the desk by my right side and crossed his arms. I stole a look at him, and that was all I could see. He slammed his hand on my textbook, forcing me to take in his long fingers, fingers that had once been in my ass, hurting me on purpose.

"We're leaving in two hours."

"You are leaving, dear brother," I said and put my hand on his wrist to force him to move it away from my study materials.

He was like steel underneath that lanky, attractive appearance. So it wasn't easy for me to remove his hand without making it into a big thing. Eventually, I had to meet his eyes.

"Adrian," I said in a false, sugary voice. "What do you think you're doing?"

He looked so good I could die for a kiss from him that very moment.

"Mom ordered me to bring you over. Sorry, but you can't disappoint her. She'll never forgive you."

So it was her putting him up to this. It didn't come from him, so I was under no obligation to fulfill anyone's wishes. Anyone who wasn't him.

"I already explained the situation to your mother," I said, stubbornly remaining stuck in place. "She won't hold it against me if I'm not visiting for Thanksgiving."

"I'm asking you, then," he said suddenly.

I toyed with the idea to refuse him. But we needed a truce of some kind after the fiasco from that night. Still, I had to ask. "Why would you want me there, with you and your happy family?"

"It's your family, too," Adrian shot back, showing his annoyance by bunching his hand over the textbook pages, wrinkling them to the point of tearing.

"You hate me," I accused.

"I don't hate you." His hand relaxed and he moved it upward to cup my chin; I had to look into his eyes. They were as pretty as I remembered, albeit marred by dark circles now.