Page 40 of Follows with Intent

Laughing—and crying out in pain—Nico batted at his hand. When Jadon finally released him, Nico said, “Fine, fine. Tell me about Robbie.”

“I’m certainly not going to tell you about Robbie.” But his hand came back, stroking the side of Nico’s head again, and after a moment, he drew a deep breath. “I was in love with him, of course. I mean, he was gorgeous. And the sex was—I mean, I’d never had anything like that, although I’m guessing it was a pretty underwhelming fifteen seconds for him.”

Nico giggled into Jadon’s thigh.

“I was eighteen, and when he left, my heart broke. I honestly thought I was going to die. I didn’t, obviously. But when I could think clearly again, I remember—I remember thinking that I was going to have to leave. I hadn’t put it to myself that way before, but I knew. I wasn’t going to find someone to love if I stayed on that farm. So, I applied all over the place, and believe it or not, I got a full ride to UMSL. I started the next fall.”

“And you stayed in St. Louis?”

“I did. I figured out a lot of stuff in college. How to dress. How to act. I found guys I wanted to be friends with.”

“And guys you wanted to fuck.”

“Them too.”

“So much masculine energy.”

“God, yes. And what’s the butchest job? I mean, the most macho, the most sexist, the most—”

“Guns?”

Jadon laughed. Nico could feel it reverberate through his body, into Nico’s body, and he thought, That’s a part of him that’s a part of me now. And he thought, We’re touching. And it sounded silly because of course they were touching, with Nico’s cheek against Jadon’s thigh. Of course they were touching. But that was the thought, as the laughter vibrated into Nico: We’re touching.

“Are you seriously telling me that you are the first person in the history of the world to become a police officer to piss off your parents?”

“Believe it or not, I’m not the first.”

“Jadon!”

Another easy chuckle passed through his body, into Nico’s. He stroked Nico’s hair. “I mean, the criminal justice major was to piss off my moms. By the time I was a couple years into it, though, I’d matured.”

Nico made a skeptical noise.

“But by that point, I’d also realized I didn’t agree with some of what my moms believed. They raised me with a lot of good values, things I’m happy they taught me. But I’m not a pacifist. And I’m not anti-government.”

“And you’re definitely not a vegetarian.”

The laugh, this time, was richer, deeper, and that wire running down from Nico’s chest drew tighter and tighter. “Definitely not.”

The silence that came after had a quality that Nico wasn’t used to—easy, comfortable, and yet also charged with a potential that he couldn’t quite name. Jadon was still stroking his hair, the movements slow and relaxed.

Nico was speaking before he realized he meant to say anything. Whispering, really. His eyes on the ceiling, because it felt like too much to look at Jadon right then. “I’m happy you are who you are, Jay. I think you’re a good person.”

“I’m happy you are who you are, Nico. And you are a good person.”

“I’m not,” Nico said. “But I want you to think I am.” Nico sat up, blinking his eyes clear, trying to draw a deep breath. He fought for a normal voice as he said, “And I’ve got to finish my paper, or we’ll be here all night.”

“Go on. I’ll clean this up, and when you’re ready, I’ll walk you home.”

“It’s late, Jay. You need to sleep.”

“Well then,” Jadon said from behind him, and Nico could hear the smile, “you’d better get to work on that paper.”

“You could come hear it.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Nico decided the best and only option was to find a section of movable stacks, stick his head between two units, and become the first official library decapitation. “Never mind; I forgot you’ve got your symposium, and you’re too busy anyway, and it’s definitely not like anyone dreams of spending a Saturday talking about Kierkegaard.”

Jadon didn’t say anything.

Eventually, because no decapitating bookshelves appeared to be within reach, Nico craned his head.

---