For the fans, p.21
For The Fans, page 21
I don’t like lying to my mom, but what other choice do I have? I can’t very well tell her that I’m slowly turning into a gay pornstar, and that my tuition money is coming from videos of me sucking orgasms out of her husband’s son.
I can still feel his fingers digging into the flesh of my ass, the tightness of his throat squeezing my cock while he moaned and gasped on it… The flavor of him pouring pleasure into my mouth as our heated bodies trembled and shivered…
Jesus. I don’t think anything has ever felt so good, which is a problem, because I’m really not supposed to be thinking about it that way. If it was any other dude on the planet, it wouldn’t be so bad. But this is Kyran we’re talking about…
We’re only doing this to make money. Point blank.
But then… he kissed me.
Naturally, he snapped out of it fast and stormed away, which is more on brand for the Kyran we all know and dislike. But I can’t shake the feeling of his lips…
They’re so soft.
Okay, stop it, brain. Stop thinking about him and move on with your life.
I have one more class for the day and then it’s the weekend. It’s a bi-week, so there’s no football tonight, and I’m all geared up to spend the evening smoking some grade-A kush, ordering Chinese takeout, and maybe drawing for a while before I inevitably find myself curled up on the couch again with Robin, watching Netflix in my underwear.
The perfect introvert’s Friday night.
A couple of hours later, I run into Frankie while cutting through the quad after class. I haven’t seen her since last weekend when I met up with the crew at her apartment, where we all adjourned to her living room floor for weed and Rosé, classy bitches that we are.
“Where are you headed off to next?” she asks while we stroll, arm-in-arm, toward the Green Line.
“I have an epic night planned,” I tell her with a grin. “I’m gonna smoke myself stupid and binge-watch serial killer documentaries with my hand in my pants.”
Frankie snorts. “As awesome, and completely un-sad as that sounds, cancel it. You’re coming to a party with us instead.”
My lips slope into a frown. “Party? That would require me putting on actual clothes and engaging with humans.” I shake my head. “No, no. Too much effort. Sorry, love.”
She gives me a hard yank on the arm. “Stop being a hermit. Let fun Avi out of his cage for the night!”
“But… it’s so cold,” I whine and pout.
“Come on, dude.” She rolls her eyes. “We all know how wild you are… Backwardz_Cap.” I narrow my gaze at her, and she smirks wickedly. “Or is that side of you only reserved for stepbrother sexy times now?”
“Shhh!” My eyes widen and flick all around us. There’s nobody nearby, but still.
Frankie laughs. “Seriously, man. I still can’t believe you got him to do that stuff. Muy caliente.” She fans herself.
“Why are you watching my videos??” I snap quietly.
“Uh, because they’re hot as fuck,” she replies casually. “I’m not even ashamed to say that last one got me all kinds of moist.”
“You’re being gross,” I grumble petulantly, shoving her toward the station. “And to think I offered to chivalrously walk you to your train. I say good day!”
Twirling away from her, I take a tentative step before she grabs me by my coat.
“You’re coming to this party tonight, Aviel,” she insists in that Frankie tone that means I have zero choice in the matter.
A scoff turns to a sigh as I mutter, “Where even is it?? I’m not going all the way down to the Hammond Street dorms…”
“Well, you’re in luck, darling,” she chirps. “It’s right up by you. In Walsh.”
I squint at her. “Whose party is it exactly?”
She pauses for a moment before she answers, “Theo Reeves.”
“Oh, hell no.” I shake my head. “Absolutely not.”
“Whyyy?” She pouts.
“Because he’s the Eagles kicker! He’s one of Kyran’s best friends, and it’ll be in Kyran’s building. There’s no way… I will not invite disaster like that.”
Frankie tugs my sleeve over and over. “But it’ll be fun! We’re all going.”
“Don’t care.” I stand firm in my decision. “I’m not going to a party with a bunch of football players, aka my stepbrother’s friends, to watch them do keg stands and make out with girls.”
She shoots me a knowing sneer of a look. “So that’s why you don’t want to go… Because you’re afraid your secret hook-up buddy will be there with his cheerleader girlfriend…”
“Okay, first of all, she’s not his girlfriend.” My jaw clenches while Frankie tilts her head and smirks. “Second of all, I don’t care… And third of all…” My voice trails off in my state of fluster. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter… I’m just not going. And why the hell would you guys want to go to their party anyway?? Football players are beyond lame.”
“Bea wants to hook up with Theo.” Frankie shrugs.
Huffing, I rub my eyes. Bea has been crushing on Theo since last year. They make out on occasion, sort of casually, but I know Bea, wily little thing that she is, is itching to get him naked. I can’t say I don’t get it… Theo is pretty hot.
But that’s off topic. And how come the only guys I’m registering as hot are football players??
My thoughts are spiraling. The point is that I do not want to intentionally put myself in the same shared space with Kyran, especially after what we’ve done together.
Us alone is dangerous… With people around? It’s a recipe for destruction.
“You can’t avoid him forever, Avi,” Frankie’s voice chimes into my obsessing. “You go to the same school. If you guys are going to keep up this clandestine side-hustle, you’ll need to learn how to coexist without it being awkward.” She nudges me while I consider her words. “I mean, think about your next family gathering! Aren’t you both going home for Christmas?”
Ugh… fuck me. I hadn’t even thought of that.
I guess I was gifted Thanksgiving dinner without Kyran. Who knows what it would have been like if he was there…
Frankie has a point, which irritates me. Gorging myself on Chinese food and watching TV would be so much less involved…
“Alright, fine…” I mumble, and she jumps around in celebration. “I’ll consider it! No promises…”
“Lovely.” Frankie kisses me on the cheek, immediately darting away toward the train. But she peeks over her shoulder to call out, “Make sure you look hot! Gotta impress your secret boyfriend…” She winks, and I’m seething.
“I don’t fucking—” I shout after her, but she’s already gone as I sigh the word, “care.”
It’s true. I don’t care about impressing Kyran, and I know she’s just fucking with me. But for some reason, my nerves are swinging inside me. And my hands are sweating.
Biting my lip, I turn and stalk back in the direction of my dorm.
God, what the fuck am I gonna wear??
This is a bad idea.
That fact hasn’t changed throughout the entire course of the last few hours, while I was smoking, and showering, and smoking and getting dressed, and smoking again while standing in front of the mirror, assessing my choice of wardrobe.
I settled on my favorite black boots, ripped black jeans, and a red-and-black flannel button-down. My hair is mussed up, just the way I like it, and my nails are freshly painted, the standard black I always use.
Except that now, all I can think of is Kyran’s comment the last time I saw him.
I really don’t care that he noticed it… I’ve been painting my nails black for years. But now that he said something, I can’t stop hearing his words every time I look at them.
My anti-establishment image… Pfft. What a sheep.
Although, I guess maybe that is why I started doing it…
Goddamn him. He ruins everything.
He even somehow managed to ruin my first bisexual experience. Now, every time I think about fooling around with a guy, I’ll see his stupid face.
Bleh.
I’m in a mood as I take the stairs up to Theo’s floor of the Walsh Residence Hall. As soon as I’m in the hallway, I hear music and voices, which amps up my jittering even more. I hate coming to parties on my own. I knew I should have called Zeb or Micah to see if I could meet up with them and go together.
I made sure to arrive fashionably late, because as much as I dislike parties like this, showing up before everyone is loosey goosey sounds a million times worse. Meandering up to the door, I peer into the party. Right away, I spot Bea talking to Theo, and I decide to buck up and go say hi.
Wandering inside to the thumping bass and smooth melody of Two Feet, I keep my head down, ignoring the he doesn’t belong here gazes sticking on me like static cling. I avoid making eye contact and head straight for Bea. But an arm grabs me before I can get to her.
“Hey, girl, heyy!” Zeb kisses me on both cheeks like we’re somewhere in Europe.
“Look who made it!” Micah cheers.
“Sup…” I mumble, forcing my eyes not to travel around in search of my stepbrother.
“Ooh… someone’s not fucked up enough.” Zeb pouts. “Here. Take this.”
He hands me his cup. I sniff it and wince. “Jesus… What is this??”
“It’s my signature cocktail.” He grins. “I call it the Sex With Zeb On the Beach.”
“My mom told me not to accept drinks from strangers,” I chuckle, then take a large gulp from the cup. “Hopefully these roofies kick in quick.”
“Amen, sister,” Zeb sneers. “Can’t wait to have my filthy way with you.” He winks, and I give him a look.
“This drink, like the idea of sex with you, is completely disgusting,” I tease, and he feigns outrage. “Where’s Frankie?”
Sipping the drink again, I look around, already feeling warmed up, partially from the booze, but also from the comfort of having my friends around. They always help to improve my mood. I don’t feel like any less of an outcast, but when I’m with them, we’re all outcasts together.
“Believe it or not, she’s chatting up your all-star quarterback stepbrother.” Micah nods across the room.
My spine stiffens, and my pulse instantly speeds back up when I spot them over on the couch. Frankie is talking to Kyran, who’s smiling pleasantly, laughing at whatever outrageous thing I’m sure she’s saying.
A strange knot forms in my stomach while I watch them… The way Kyran is leaned back and sort of relaxed. Frankie’s hand on his knee.
Are they… flirting??
There’s no way… Kyran is not Frankie’s type at all, and she’s definitely not his type either.
But then my mind flicks through images of them making out, her stroking his dick and him licking her pussy… During our haphazard attempt at a threesome, which led us down this confusing and complicated path that we’re now on.
So I guess Kyran was just into her that night…
Hm.
Slugging back the rest of the gasoline that is Zeb’s drink, I cough and shove the cup at him. “Make me another one, please.”
Zeb lights up, but I can barely focus on it. I’m too busy watching Frankie trail her long, sparkly nails along my stepbrother’s shoulder.
“I think they hooked up,” Micah says, and my face whips in his direction.
“What??”
“Yea… At her Halloween party,” he goes on, and my shoulders drop back along with my perplexing dread.
“Oh…” My eyes nonchalantly swoop back over to them.
“I saw him leaving her bedroom that night, and then he bounced right after.”
I peer at Micah. Well, I guess he didn’t see me also emerging from said bedroom, so I guess that’s a good thing.
“I thought he was dating that cheerleader girl.” Micah sips from his cup. “Lexi something…”
“They’re not together,” I blurt out, and he cocks an eyebrow at me. “I mean, like officially. I don’t think…”
What the hell is wrong with me??
And where the hell is Zeb with that drink?
A moment later, Zeb traipses over with his arm extended to hand me the cup. “I made you a double.”
Snatching it, I drink it fast, ignoring the severe burn.
“Actually, maybe more of a triple…” he hums. “Go easy, hot stuff. There are like five different kinds of booze in there.”
“Mhm…” I mutter, tuning him out as my focus draws back to Kyran and Frankie like it’s magnetized.
Frankie looks up and spots me, grinning deviously as she waves me over. I shake my head at her, but she narrows her gaze, giving me one of her insistent looks. Ignoring my better judgement, I mumble to Micah and Zeb that I’ll be right back, making my way across the room while trying to move as casually as possible.
Kyran doesn’t notice me until I’m standing right in front of him. But when he does, his face drops and even pales a little, like he’s just seen a ghost whose cum he swallowed.
“Bae!” Frankie squeals, grabbing my hand and yanking me until I stumble down onto the couch. And because she’s pure evil, she moves over just in time so that I end up wedged between her and Kyran. “Bae’s here!”
Kyran scoots away from me, clearing his throat and gazing into his cup. I peek at him, our eyes locking for a split second before he goes back to searching his drink for an escape from this awkward situation.
“Hey…” I grumble to Kyran while I lean away from him, into Frankie’s side. My eyebrow arches suspiciously at her. “What’s going on, bestie?”
“Oh, nothing,” she sings, resting her head on my shoulder. “We were just chatting.”
“About what?” I ask her in a hushed growl. She smirks and winks at me, but doesn’t answer.
This girl is testing me today.
“What are you doing here, Avi?” Kyran grunts from my right, and I turn to face him.
He’s showing off his typical scowl. Because clearly awkwardness is nothing compared to his distaste for my presence.
“Well, Kyran, judging by all the people, booze, and music, I’m gonna say… I’m here to do everyone’s taxes.” I roll my eyes and sip my drink while Frankie giggles.
“Listen, smartass,” he hisses, not amused in the slightest by my wit. “There are a million other parties you could go to. You don’t need to come to the ones hosted by my friends.”
I scoff. “Don’t be such a whiny douche. My friends are here, too. My friends are canoodling with your friends.” I gesture to Bea and Theo, who are visibly flirting a few feet away. “So why don’t you just chill out, hm?”
“If you tell me to chill out one more time…” Kyran snarls, inching in closer like a rabid wolf about to pounce.
“This is exactly what I was waiting for,” Frankie hums, and we both glare at her. She’s grinning wickedly, watching us with wide, sparkling eyes and extreme interest.
“Whatever.” I stand up, tugging Frankie with me by her arm. “I don’t need to sit here and listen to your pity party. The actual party is much more fun.”
Dragging Frankie away, I swallow the rest of what’s in my cup, my neck and face all hot from the booze and the frustration Kyran carries around with him like an airborne toxin. I can definitely feel the effects of the drinks making me a little swimmy, but I push past it and march over to Zeb, demanding another one of his lethal cocktails.
I’m gonna need it with Grouchy McAsshole over there glaring at me all night.
“Why were you sitting with him??” I ask Frankie in a hushed, accusatory tone. “You know he hates me, and any time we’re within a few feet of each other, it’s the opposite of a good time.”
“Oh, you mean like the terrible times you guys have recorded for your OnlyFans?” She slants her head, wearing a knowing smirk.
My eyes widen and bounce around to make sure no one heard. Which, once again, they didn’t.
Frankie rolls her eyes. “Okay, Avi, now you need to chill out. I was just talking to him. And cards on the table, I was hoping you’d show up and bring that smoldering tension you two can’t help but make together.” She nudges me and leans in to whisper in my ear, “Maybe it’ll help drum up some more spicy content for later.”
My jaw clenches. “You’re meddling, Frances. Leave it alone.”
She shrugs unapologetically, spinning to talk to Micah. And my eyes slide back over to the couch. But Kyran is gone.
Letting out a breath of relief, and maybe something else I don’t care to analyze, I accept yet another drink from Zeb, and the four of us get to partying, which is what I came here for, despite what my jerk of a stepbrother thinks.
The night surges on. People are getting pretty drunk, shouting and laughing, dancing and hooking up. I finally get to see Bea for a few, and of course she has to tell me all about how she touched Theo’s dick earlier and how she just knows it’s big and beautiful.
I’m trying to pace myself with the drinking, but I can’t help it. Kyran is across the room all night, fucking around with his football friends and shooting me the occasional death-glare. It’s annoying because I thought I’d gotten over his assholish ways. But ever since we started recording things together, it’s like his mood is affecting me more than I want it to, and it’s pissing me off.
Kyran’s roommate, Guty, gets into the middle of the room and starts breakdancing, which is as hilarious as it is awesome. We’re all cackling and cheering for him as Zeb pokes me in the side.
“That dude is so fucking hot,” he whispers to me, and I curl my neck to drunkenly gawk at him. “What?? He is…”
“He’s also like… the straightest straight guy ever invented.” I chuckle, watching Guty move.
Zeb shrugs. “Challenge accepted.”
Rolling my eyes, I huff at his nonsense, my gaze traveling over the crowd of people swaying and moving to the music. It stops short when I see Lexi Erikson, Kyran’s cheerleader pal, with her hands running up his chest. She’s whispering something in his ear, and he kind of looks bored. But still, his hand is resting on her waist while she kisses his jaw.
