I woke up feeling like shit. The second my eyes opened, I felt the weight of the stares and prejudices floating in the frat house. It's weird: when I came out as gay, no one said a word, but now, after they saw me with Noah, it's like everyone's on edge. I try not to give a fuck, but it stings.
I hit the shower, letting the hot water wash away some of the unease. Threw on the first clothes I found: worn jeans, white tee, comfy sneakers. Nothing special. Crossed the living room, where the air smelled of coffee and stale beer. A few brothers were there, and a couple shot me looks they didn't bother hiding. I pretended not to notice and went straight to the tutoring schedule board. A week into classes, and I'm already behind.
On the stairs, I ran into Noah. He opened his mouth, like he was about to say something, but I didn't give him a chance. Brushed past him. I've got nothing against him, but I'd rather avoid him in the house. Less fuel for the gossip. No work or classes today, so I checked the board: tutoring sessions all day. Downside is it doesn't say who's tutoring what. Still, it's a start.
I ate breakfast in the kitchen with some guys. We talked classes, games, weekend plans. With them, I felt normal, no judgment, and it eased me up. But every time I looked up, Noah was staring from his table, those unblinking blue eyes locked on me. Ignoring him got harder, and the discomfort settled in my chest like a knot.
I pushed it aside and headed to my first tutoring session: multivariable calculus, in a room near the Gilbert Building. My tutor was James Matthew, a tall, lanky senior with a calm way of talking. He greeted me with a smile that killed any fear of judgment.
"Ethan, right?" he asked, pointing to the seat across from him.
"That's me," I said, sitting and pulling out my notebook.
James skimmed my notes and drew graphs on a small whiteboard. "Look, don't think of curves in two dimensions here. These are surfaces in three. See this parabola?" He sketched an upside-down bowl.
I nodded, though I had doubts. "So, with partial derivatives, we're looking at how the surface changes if you move in one direction, like the X or Y axis," he explained.
I leaned in, trying to keep up. "So it's like looking at a slice of the function?" I asked.
James grinned, pleased. "Exactly. Like cutting the surface and checking that part. That's why partials are useful—they show how it behaves in one direction."
We spent the hour solving problems. He had me calculate limits and derivatives, and when I got stuck, he explained patiently. "Don't worry about speed, just get the logic," he said.
I left with my head full of equations but relieved. Someone in this university saw me as a student, not a label.
For lunch, I decided not to stay at the house. Knew Noah would be there, and I'd had enough for one day. I like his company, but I don't want to burden him with the shit that follows me. Plus, after agreeing yesterday to be "exclusive" for the charade, his words left a knot in my stomach. I don't want to get my hopes up for something impossible. Better to process it and move on.
I walked to the bus stop and took one to the restaurant where I was meeting Julie. The place was half-full, with murmurs of chatter and clinking plates. Julie was by the window, her red hair glowing in the sunlight.
"Right on time," she said, smiling, pushing the menu aside.
"Buses never fail," I replied, sitting.
We ordered food, and while cutting into my steak, I asked what was on my mind. "Jackson still dodging us?"
Julie sighed, stirring her drink with her straw. "Yeah. Hasn't talked to me either."
"Figures," I muttered, taking a bite.
She locked eyes with me. "And you? How're you handling Noah, the frat… all of it?"
I swallowed slowly, taking a breath. "Trying not to overthink it."
Julie nodded. "Well, at least you've got me. I'm not going anywhere."
I smiled, silently grateful for that certainty in the chaos. I changed the subject. "So, how's it going with Joe?" I asked, faking lightness as I poured water.
Julie smiled, but there was doubt in her eyes. "Good… sort of. We talk a lot, always texting. But it's weird—he won't hang out. Every time I mention a date, he dodges. I don't know if he wants something or he's just stringing me along."
She shrugged, brushing it off. "I'll keep trying. Not giving up yet."
I nodded, hiding the storm in my head. I know how Joe looks at Jackson—those silences, that spark that complicates everything. Julie likes him, but there's something else, something that could break what the three of us have. A chill ran through me. I've gotta talk to Joe before this blows up.
"So… Noah," Julie said, loading his name with so many questions it pierced me.
I looked down, pressing my lips. "Please, don't bring him up," I said, almost whispering.
"How can I not, Ethan?" she pushed, staring hard. "It's not just anything. I need to know what's going on."
"Julie, drop it."
"No," she cut in, crossing her arms. "Something's off, and I'm not pretending I don't see it."
"It's not simple."
"Then explain it," she shot back, leaning in. "Tell me already, Ethan. What happened?"
I stayed quiet, hoping she'd back off. She didn't. "You gonna tell me or not?" she asked, almost pleading.
The pressure broke me. "It's fake."
Julie blinked, confused. "What do you mean, fake?"
"Our relationship," I said, voice tight. "It's fake."
"What?" she said, incredulous.
The waiter brought dessert, setting it down without noticing the tension. The ice cream melted as I ripped open the wound. I told her everything: how Noah got cut off by his dad, how he needs the Diversity and Inclusion scholarship, how I agreed to fake being his boyfriend to help him.
Julie stared, frozen, like every word hit her. When I finished, she dropped her spoon with a clatter. "What the fuck, Ethan? You risked your name, your place at this university, everything, just to cover for him?"
"I didn't have a choice," I said, staring at the dessert.
"Of course you did!" she snapped, voice rising. "You could've stayed out of it, found another way. This is low."
"Julie…" I ran a hand through my hair, exhausted. "For Noah, this is everything. Without the scholarship, he's screwed. I couldn't let him drown."
"Didn't you hate him?" she threw out, hurt, looking for a crack.
I shrugged, lowering my voice. "He's not that bad. Things with him are… complicated."
"Complicated?" she repeated, disbelieving. "You're defending him?"
"I just want to help him," I said, firm, though I was shaking inside.
Julie looked out the window, shaking her head. The silence was heavy, broken only by the restaurant's hum. I stabbed the melted ice cream, not eating, knowing nothing would be the same after this.
"Listen, if that asshole gets you in trouble, tell him I'll castrate him," Julie said.
I let out a laugh, and she laughed with me. "Seriously?" I asked, still chuckling.
"Dead serious," she replied, with that fake dignity of hers.
"Alright, I'll pass it on," I said, raising my hands like I'm surrendering.
****
After lunch, I headed back to the Alpha Centauri house. My day was packed with tutoring sessions, no room for anything else. The schedule board only listed times and subjects, never the tutors, so I walked into each room blind, not knowing who I'd get.
Next up was Game Theory, in a room near the Gilbert Building. Just seeing the subject's name tensed me up—it's tough, and my head wasn't in top shape. I took a deep breath, opened the door, and found Chris.
I paused in the doorway, surprised, then walked in. "Glad it's you," I said, not hiding my relief.
Chris grinned, leaning his elbows on the table. "Trust me, I'm happy to see a familiar face too. Lately, it's just studying, nothing else."
"No parties?" I teased, trying to loosen the tension.
"Nope," he said, calm. "Focused on finishing the semester strong. Plus… I'm talking to someone. Not serious yet, but it keeps me going."
I smiled. "Happy for you. You deserve it."
He nodded and pointed at my notebook. "Let's get to it. Game Theory's no joke."
He stood and drew a matrix on the whiteboard. "Picture a board. Two players, two choices each. The outcome depends on what they pick. Equilibrium's where no one moves because any change screws them."
"Like a forced stalemate?" I asked, trying to grasp it.
Chris grinned. "Exactly. That's Nash equilibrium. Awkward but stable."
We spent the hour tackling prisoner's dilemmas, coordination strategies, and a ridiculous example of two companies doomed to sink together. When I got stuck, Chris explained another way, patient, never losing his cool.
I closed my notebook, relieved. The subject was still a headache, but with him, it didn't feel impossible. I didn't say it, but I was glad he was my tutor. I stepped out to the house's garden, sat on the steps, and watched people pass on the Main Quad's grass. Some waved, others acted like I didn't exist. I tried not to dwell, but the weight in my chest didn't budge.
Time for my last tutoring session: Molecular Chemistry, an elective I took for credits without realizing how heavy it'd be. I walked into the room and froze.
"No way," I muttered, my blood boiling.
Across from me, with that venomous smirk, was Theodoro Nichols. "Of all the assholes it could've been," he sneered, loud enough for everyone to hear, "it had to be the frat's fag."
The insult hit hard. Since he saw me with Noah, Nichols has been dropping homophobic jabs every chance he gets, and now he's going full-throttle, right in the classroom.
"Are you serious?" I shot back, barely containing my anger. "Fuck! Of all people, you."
He stood slowly, crossing his arms. "You think I'm thrilled to see you?" he spat, dripping with contempt. "You're the last one I wanted."
I couldn't take it. I dropped my notebook and stormed toward him, meeting his provocation head-on. "What're you gonna do, Bennett? Hit me?" he taunted, daring me to snap.
I grabbed his shirt collar and shoved him. "Listen up: I'm done swallowing your bullshit."
Nichols matched my venom. "If you're not careful, you'll end up infecting everyone else. Just like you did with Noah."
The Gilbert Building room, with its messy desks and scribbled whiteboard, felt smaller. I shoved him hard against a table, a notebook crashing to the floor. Nichols came at me, and in seconds, it was chaos: grappling, shouting, chairs scraping the floor.
Noah burst through the door, moving fast. "Stop it, Nichols!" he barked, shoving himself between us. But that just fueled the fire. Nichols threw a punch Noah half-dodged, and the fight spiraled: shoves, clumsy swings, raw tension. The few students in the room muttered, some backing against the wall.
I planted myself between them, heart racing, arms outstretched to keep them apart. "Enough, damn it!" I yelled, my voice echoing. "This isn't worth shit!"
Noah looked at me, face red, hair messy, a small scratch on his lip. His eyes had something I couldn't read, making me swallow hard. Nichols was breathing heavy, pure hate in his glare. I held them off, my arms shaking with adrenaline. "I'm not stooping to your level," I told Nichols, firm. "You're not worth it."
I let him go with a sharp shove, not giving him a chance to respond, and turned away. I stormed out, my footsteps ringing in the hallway. The others' murmurs, some calling out Nichols, faded behind me. The weight of the fake-dating pact with Noah crushed my chest, but I didn't want to hear more or argue. I kept walking, not looking back.
****
One good thing about the Alpha Centauri house is every room has its own bathroom. After the fight—where Nichols got the worst of it—I went straight to the shower. I'm not a fighter, but when my blood boils, I lose control. I turned on the water and let it wash away the anger and noise in my head. I knew something like this would happen, but not like this. Everything was fine… now it's fucked.
I don't want to keep up this charade, but I can't let Noah lose the scholarship. I swallowed the urge to run and decided to face it.
I got out of the shower, tied a towel around my waist, and walked to my bed. The door flew open, and I jumped, clutching the towel. "Fuck! Don't you knock?" I snapped, pissed.
Noah stood in the doorway, staring hard. "You've been dodging me, Bennett," he said, cutting straight to it.
I froze, caught off guard. "What?"
"All fucking day," he went on. "Since yesterday."
I swallowed, gripping the towel. "I haven't dodged you…"
"Bullshit you haven't," he cut in, stepping into the room. "And it's all because I told you to stay away from Mike, right?"
I stared, confused, anger creeping up. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"You'd rather avoid me than talk," he said, taking another step. "I don't get it."
I sighed, running a hand through my wet hair. "I'm just trying to avoid trouble, Noah. I've got enough with the assholes downstairs. You didn't need to jump in, didn't need to throw punches with Nichols."
"I had to shut him up," he shot back, firm. "I wasn't gonna stand there while he spewed that shit at you."
"And you just made it worse," I threw out, shrugging. "I lost it, and so did you."
He clenched his fists. "Yeah, I lost it. And you know what? I'd do it again. I'm not letting anyone in this house mess with you."
"I can handle myself," I said, curt.
"Sure, but I can help. That's what friends do."
The word "friends" burned my chest, a painful reminder. I looked down, exhausted. "What do you want, Noah? Go. I want to sleep and forget this."
Silence. Then, calmly, he said, "Actually… that's why I'm here."
I looked up, surprised. "What?"
"To sleep here," he repeated. "So you're not alone tonight."
"Are you joking?" I snapped, frowning, clutching the towel.
"Nope," he said, serious, leaning against the doorframe. "I'm your guardian angel now."
I scoffed, turning away. "Don't fuck with me…"
He grinned lopsidedly. "Kidding. But for real, I came to shut people up and make it clear we're boyfriends. In theory, right? If we live in the same house and sleep apart, it won't sell. So I decided: we're sleeping in the same room."
My face burned. "No way in hell."
He laughed and walked to my bed. "It won't be that bad. Relax. I've got you."
"Don't say that," I said, annoyed.
"Sorry," he said, with a cheeky grin. "But I'm sleeping here tonight. So everyone knows and shuts up."
"You didn't ask me."
"I'm asking now."
"And I'm saying no."
"And I'm saying yes," he shot back, flopping onto my bed like he owned it.
I noticed he came prepared: barefoot, in lightweight navy pajama pants and a fitted white tee, clean, simple, but with that vibe of someone who looks good even sleeping. Classic Noah.
"Whitman…" I said, serious, still in my towel.
"Shhh," he cut in, patting the mattress, grinning. "Relax, lie down with me."
"I'm not even dressed."
"Go change," he said, tilting his head with a smirk. "I'll be quiet."
"What?"
"You changed in front of everyone when you played football, right?" he said, raising an eyebrow with a spark in his eyes. "Besides, I've already seen that cute ass of yours."
"Whitman!" I snapped, blushing, gripping the towel.
"What? Sorry, had to say it," he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "This is crazy, but you're so stubborn."
The asshole was laughing, and I was getting more nervous. A weird heat shot through my groin, and I cursed myself. "I won't look," he said, turning away.
I changed fast, hearing his stifled laughs. "What's so funny?" I asked, pulling on my shirt.
"Nothing," he said, smirking.
I finished dressing and looked at him. He turned, his grin widening. I glanced ahead and— "Fuck!" I yelped, catching my reflection in the mirror.
Noah doubled over laughing. "If it helps, I enjoyed the view," he said, winking.
The heat hit me again. I sat on the bed, and he sat beside me, still with that mix of amusement and sincerity. "You mad?" he asked.
"When am I not mad at you?" I said, crossing my arms.
"Fair," he nodded. "But you don't hate me, right?"
"If I hated you, would I be doing this?"
"Dunno. Maybe," he said, looking down.
"I don't hate you," I admitted. "I did before, but not now."
"I never hated you," he said, shrugging. "Didn't even know you existed till you joined the frat, but…"
I nodded, not replying. My head swirled: hating someone who doesn't know you is ridiculous. I hated what Noah stood for, not him. But now, seeing him here, he was more than the cocky rich kid. He was… different.
"Let's sleep," he suggested, with a gentle nod.
"Fine," I said, getting up.
I grabbed blankets from the closet and tossed them on the floor. "What's that?" Noah asked, surprised.
"For you."
"For me?" he said, incredulous.
"You thought I'd sleep with you?"
"Dude, the bed's huge," he said, pointing at it.
"It's my bed."
"But…" he tried.
"Lie there," I cut in.
He gave up and flopped onto the floor, grumbling. I laughed watching him settle. "Find this funny?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Pretty much," I said, holding back a grin.
We lay down and started talking shit: how Morgan's gonna lose it when he finds out, how Noah said Nichols tried a double date and got stood up. We laughed over dumb stories until exhaustion hit, and we passed out.
****
Loud knocks yanked me out of sleep. I thought it was my head at first, but no—someone was pounding on the door, the sound echoing in the room. "Ethan!" It was Morgan, his voice sharp. "I need to talk to you!"
The knocks came again, harder. I stumbled up, groggy, my body heavy with exhaustion. I shook Noah, who was sprawled on the floor. "What's up?" he mumbled, barely opening his eyes, his voice rough.
"It's Morgan," I whispered, my heart picking up speed.
"Shit!" he hissed, bolting upright, hair a mess.
I started for the door, but he froze, like a plan sparked in his head. He shot me a quick look, then ripped the blanket off me in one swift move. Before I could react, he dove onto the bed, pulling the sheets over us, his weight pinning me down. "What the fuck are you doing?" I hissed, feeling his warm body pressed against mine, the air trapped between us.
He settled between my legs, his thighs brushing mine, and yanked off his shirt in one motion, tossing it to the floor. The heat of his skin hit me, his bare chest inches away. "What…?" I stammered, my voice shaking.
He shushed me with a finger to my lips, his touch soft but firm, sending a shiver down my spine. "Take off your shirt," he whispered, his warm breath grazing my face.
"What?" I repeated, heart racing, pulse pounding in my ears.
"Do it. Trust me," he said, his blue eyes locked on mine, intense, almost daring.
With shaky hands, I pulled off my shirt, the fabric scraping my skin, amplifying every sensation. Noah leaned closer, his hips pressing into mine, his heat blending with my own. A flush surged through me, my face probably on fire. "Noah… are you…?" I mumbled, feeling something hard against me, impossible to ignore.
"It's how I wake up every day," he whispered, his tone casual but his eyes sparking. "And you too, apparently."
The comment stole my breath, heat flooding me, trapped by his closeness, his skin brushing mine. I yanked my shirt over my head, letting it fall. I caught Noah staring, sunlight streaming through the window, making his blond hair glow like it was lit up. His eyes weren't on mine—they were on my bare chest, scanning me with an intensity that set my nerves on edge.
Suddenly, his hands were on me, warm and firm, sliding slowly from my sides to my abs. His touch was gentle but deliberate, like he was exploring, his gaze distant, lost in another world. My breath hitched, heart pounding, every touch igniting a heat I couldn't control. "Noah…" I whispered, voice barely there, caught between nerves and something I didn't want to name.
The door flew open. "Do you even hear me?" Morgan shouted, storming in. He froze, eyes wide as saucers. "Oh, shit!" he blurted, covering his face with one hand, turning away.
"Don't you knock?" Noah snapped, half-sitting up, playing it cool, though his voice wavered for a second.
"Didn't know you were here," Morgan said, clearly uncomfortable, staring at the floor.
"And you just barge in?" I shot back, my voice cracking, still feeling the ghost of Noah's touch on my skin.
"I called you half an hour ago. You could've said you were busy," Morgan said, flustered, gesturing at us. "Come talk when you can."
He bolted, slamming the door. Noah grinned, a mix of triumph and cheekiness that made me more nervous. "It worked," he said, his voice low, almost intimate.
"What worked?" I asked, wary, still feeling his body's heat.
"Now they won't doubt we're boyfriends. Makes it easier," he said, sitting up straighter, his eyes still on me.
We stared at each other, the silence heavy, charged. His gaze dropped for a second, and he let out a soft laugh. "Still hasn't calmed down…" he said, smirking, glancing down where our hips touched.
My heart nearly exploded. On reflex, I shoved him, knocking him to the floor. "Hey! You could've asked nicely," he laughed from below, his voice ringing in the room.
"Fuck…" I muttered, bolting to the bathroom and slamming the door. My pulse was still racing, and shit, I think he noticed.