Page 61 of Melting the Ice

Dean debated with himself for a full ten minutes before sending Brody the text.

It’s what a friend would do, he argued with himself.

I got a great table in the library,he finally sent, before one side of his brain could point out to the other that all these things he was feeling weren’tonlyplatonic,if you wanna join me.

He knew Brody’s practice had ended half an hour ago, and after he almost always studied somewhere. If not their apartment, then Koffee Klatch, or the library.

He’d not tried to memorize Brody’s schedule, but he’d done it accidentally. Or at least that was the argument he continued to make.

They’d already met up twice this week for more study sessions, and even though the desires he couldn’t quite deny kept pressing on him, insistent and undeniable, he was getting better at ignoring them in favor of just enjoying Brody’s company.

If friendship was what Brody wanted to offer him, he’d take it—even if sometimes it felt like fate was playing the world’s biggest cosmic joke on him.

Ha, guess you’re not straight after all.

Ha, guess you’re into the idea of sex way more than you ever wanted to be.

But not with just anyone.

Just one person. Just oneguy.

One guy who doesn’t seem interested in you. Not that way.

Dean shoved his phone away before he spent the next half an hour of important study time staring at the screen, waiting for Brody’s reply to pop up on the screen.

And then, suddenly, it didn’t matter, because he was right there, all Brody’s pretty boy-ness on full display in a pair of gray sweatpants and a blue hoody that made his skin glow.

Jesus, you’re a fucking wreck. Skin glow, my ass.

“Hey,” Brody said, slipping into the seat opposite Dean without an invitation—and without an explanation of how he’d known exactly where Dean was without Dean telling him.

“Oh, uh, hey,” Dean stammered.

“You’re right, thisisthe best table in the library,” Brody said with a teasing grin. Dean felt it lick right along his skin.

He took a deep breath and then let it out.

“Yeah, it is,” Dean agreed. “That how you found me?”

Every time he didn’t see Brody for hours—sometimes even for a day at a time—he always thought,I can control this, I canovercome this—but whenever Brody appeared in his proximity, it was clear just how deeply he’d slipped under his skin.

Dean wasn’t even mad about it; only surprised, each and every time.

Okay, he was alittlemad about it.

He’d be a lotlessmad if somehow Brody made his way into his bed.

Even if he wanted that, even if by some miracle he landed there, you’ve got no fucking clue what to do with him.

“Yep.” Brody grinned. “Close to the bathrooms. Close to the vending machines. And in the quietest corner. Means we won’t be bothered.”

Dean swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

He, who so rarely even formed friendships, wanted to hoard every moment with Brody, holding them close, treating them like precious gems he secreted away for a bad day.

Wes would tell him he was fucked, which was why Dean hadn’t told Wes about any of this, yet.

Dean tried to return to his textbook, but the words swam in front of his eyes. When he glanced up at Brody, Brody was staring at him, a puzzled expression on his face. And he hadn’t gotten out his own books or the notebook he took class notes in yet.

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