Page 5 of Lust

“I seriously hope you aren’t suggesting he was pulling my pigtails. That’s problematic behavior, not a sign of—”

“We both saw what his dick was doing in the showers. Might not be a healthy way of reacting or an excuse, but he’s gay, and…Pretty Boy?” He chuckles.

“I don’t know what you’re laughing about,” I tease. “I’m a hot motherfucker.”

That’s not really true. Not that I’m unattractive, but I’m probably average in the looks department.

We both burst into a laugh, and it’s nice that despite how fucked up that shit was, I’m able to laugh about it.

But there’s one thing I can’t laugh about. Three words Seth said that echo inside my goddamn head.

You. Don’t. Mind.

*

The rest ofthe afternoon and into the night, I’m googling shit like hypnosis, neurolinguistic programming, and the power of persuasion, with mixed results.

Some people swear by crap like hypnosis and NLP, while skeptics tend to believe in some ability to influence, but nowhere near as dramatic as what some of this shit claims.

Hell, if I hadn’t had that experience, I’d be just as skeptical.

But that wasn’t influence. I can’t think of anything that could have taken me down from that rage other than being shot with a tranquilizer, and even that would have taken time to kick in.

Right after it happened, the details were hazy, like something I would’ve remembered from childhood. It had been enough to make me second-guess myself, but now all the details are back, rich and vivid. So graphic that I don’t doubt what happened. And only with hypnosis have people claimed they could be totally transformed with just a keyword or phrase, ridiculous as that might seem.

But surely if Seth was running around campus hypnotizing everyone, people would notice. Although, I haven’t been here long enough to know what everyone talks about.

The following morning, I’m in the communal kitchen for our floor. A few guys are in the dining area, watchingJudge Judyon the big-screen TV. I’m standing at the stove, fixing an omelet, when Brad walks in.

“Morning, Pretty Boy,” he says, glancing me over, his gaze lingering on my body a little too long, making me wonder if maybe Alexei was right about Brad’s behavior. What if it was just an inappropriate way of approaching his attraction?

But that doesn’t seem right. From what I’ve heard, he’s messed around with a ton of guys, and if that was his reputation, people wouldn’t think he was a stand-up guy, as Alexei put it.

As he opens the fridge, I glance his way and notice the protrusion in the crotch of his sweatpants. “You’re having a very good morning, aren’t you?” I say, deliberately pushing. He needs to know I’m not gonna sit back and take his crap.

He glares at me.

“Is that all for me?” I jab.

“Why, you need a smoothie for breakfast?”

The way he raises his brow, smirking, it has me thinking that if he wasn’t such a fucking tool, we might actually get along. But since he’s determined to be my archnemesis, it’s now a game I must win.

“If I need protein, I have bars for that.”

I glance around the dining area. The other guys are chatting or engrossed in Judge Judy’s deliberations, and for the first time, Seth isn’t right at Brad’s side.

I’ve been debating about the best tactic. Confront just Brad, just Seth, or both at the same time?

Seth is much cooler than Brad, though. Seems like Brad struggles with controlling himself, which might work to my advantage if I can get him to slip up, admit that Seth fucking hypnotized me yesterday.

Christ, what the hell am I even saying?

As I flip my omelet, Brad pulls out some OJ, then rifles through the freezer, retrieving frozen fruits.

“I’m planning to come to the pickup game next week again. In case you thought you were gonna discourage me from that.”

“Be happy to kick your ass again.”

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