Page 136 of The Play

A-plus, baby.

Hell yeah.

Curious, I peer over at Hunter’s sheet. “What’d you get?”

“B-plus.” He looks pleased with that. I had proofed his research paper and thought it was excellent, but I probably would’ve gone more in-depth about certain things, so I think the grade is fair.

I flip through the pages of my case study to find that Andrews scribbled notes in the margins. The praise I find is ludicrously good for my ego. Things like:

Terrific insight!

Highly perceptive!

Provocative…

GREAT angle, she writes in the section where I discuss possible counseling tactics to try to help the narcissist reach the rare self-awareness. The slew of compliments has my ego swelling to monstrous proportions. This feels way more satisfying than the A-plus I got in Organic Chem. This one feelsright.

Hunter leans closer to whisper in my ear. “You look so hot right now.”

I wrinkle my forehead. “Really?”

“Oh yeah.” His breath tickles my cheek. “It’s that cocky look in your eyes. Never thought I’d get turned on by an academic, butfuck, I’ve got a semi, Semi.”

I snicker softly. But I realize he’s not kidding when he straightens up and I glimpse the hot lust swimming in his eyes.

I gulp through my suddenly parched throat, turning toward TJ as a distraction. “How’d you do?”

“An A,” he replies, and Pax got a B, so all in all I’d say Abnormal Psych was a smashing success.

Since it’s the last class, Andrews rewards us with a topic that I could probably spend a solid twenty-four hours listening to: serial killers. In fact, if you tally all the time I’ve spent watching crime shows, it probably adds up to a depressingly long portion of my life.

Andrews begins to discuss a case that’s so macabre I’m on the edge of my seat. Ten minutes in, although she still hasn’t named the killer, I grab Hunter’s arms and hiss, “She’s talking about Harold Howarth!”

“Who?”

“He was the subject of the episodeBrain Surgeons Who Kill.” I remember calling my dad immediately after watching that episode. I told him he’s never, ever allowed to inject poison into a patient’s frontal lobe, and he asked me if I was high.

As I resettle in my chair, I almost rest my hand on Hunter’s knee, a habit I have when we’re sitting together on his couch. This morning I forcibly have to stop myself. PDA isn’t allowed until I know what this is. But my gaze keeps flitting toward him. I wish I could touch his leg. Or even better—slide my hand inside his pants and wrap it around his cock. I find myself wanting to touch this man all the time.

And I meanall the time. Sometimes I want him so badly I can’t even wait for him to close the bedroom door before I’m mauling him. Today is one of those times, except we’re not in a bedroom and my throbbing body is furious at this predicament.

By the time Andrews dismisses us, my core is one dull ache. I barely hear Andrews thanking us for being so attentive this semester, wishing us luck with our future. Any other day, I’d linger after class to express my own gratitude, but I think I’ll need to settle for sending a lengthy email.

I’m so aroused, I’m practically leaping out of my own skin as we exit the lecture hall. My impatient gaze darts around the wide corridor. We didn’t drive, and there’s no way I can last the long walk back to my house. So, as Pax and TJ walk on ahead of us, I grab Hunter’s hand and drag him around the corner.

33

HUNTER

DEMI SHOVES ME THROUGH THE NEAREST DOORWAY.Luckily, it leads into an unlit room with tables and chairs arranged in a semicircle. The blinds are shut, but the room isn’t pitch black. Just shadowy, with thin stripes of sunlight peeking in from the slats.

“What are you doing?” I ask in amusement.

She hurriedly shuts the door. “I was going crazy not being able to touch you in there. You havenoidea how close I was to just taking off your pants and riding your dick, right there in front of everyone.”

My groin clenches. Oh Jesus, that sounds hot. The two of us are all over each other, all the time. It’s almost become an addiction. And I’m embarrassed to say it hasn’t affected hockey whatsoever, which means my vow of celibacy was completely fucking pointless. If anything, I’m playing evenbetterthese days.

I’ve avoided talking about it with Demi, because I’m afraid she’ll tease me, tell me I’d been acting out a scene fromWizard of Ozor some shit. Like,you had the power to be a good captain and teammate all along, Hunter! It was your guilt, and your fear of being a selfish jackass like your father, that stopped you from seeing that.

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