Page 608 of The Winslow Brothers

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LEARNING CURVEEXCERPT

Scottie

We’re both in my bed, completely naked, and I want to give myself to him.

Soul, heart, virginity—he’s the one I want to have it all, even when I know it’s the worst idea I’ve ever had.

He traces the lines of my body with his heated gaze. Goose bumps form on my skin, and I glance down to where he’s hard and aroused. Forme.

I feel immediately powerful.

Finn is the kind of guy who can have any girl he wants but chooses to be alone. He’s complicated and complex, and there’s so much I don’t know about him—so much no one knows about him.

Iwantto know about him, though, which is what got me into this kind of trouble in the first place.

We’re dynamic. We’re kindred. We’re meant to be. I feel it in my bones. But how long can you shoulder the guilt of secret betrayal before you burst at the seams?

His perfect brown eyes will turn hard and cold. His smile will disappear. Everything he thought he could trust will be gone.

This is so much bigger than this moment, and yet, I can’t stop. I have to have him.

I just hope it doesn’t mean I lose him forever.

Friday, August 30th

Finn

The buzz of a busy New York City pounds against my back as I push through the doors of Graham Hall, my home for the foreseeable future.

It’s move-in day at Dickson University, and I, one of the university’s newest freshmen, have officially entered the next phase of my life.

In a sense, I feel free. My last “phase of life” was shittier than ideal. Still, there’s a whole other element to the excitement of college when you’re me, and the burn in my chest glows hotter and hotter every day.

The strap of my oversized black duffel digs into my shoulder. It’s heavy, filled with everything I own—which, admittedly, seems like hardly anything at all as I weave through the dormitory hallway teeming with wealthy pricks and their parents.

Sofas, mini refrigerators, computer monitors, and TVs the size of my childhood basement battle for space in the hallway of the tiny, male-only building located at the far northwestern corner of the entire campus.

I’m alone, as normal, and that draws more than a few stares on the way to my room. Deep navy-blue doors spaced twenty feet apart line the gold-painted halls. No doubt, the color choice is a nod to the university’s colors.

Dickson is one of New York City’s most prestigious universities. A fucked-up guy like me shouldn’t belong here, but I fought to make it happen anyway. I maintained a perfect GPA for the last two years of high school, despite everything going on at home, and wrote a personal statement that took a month and a half to finish to earn an acceptance letter and enough financial aid to cover the basics.

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