Page 60 of Steam

Been too long since you were with anyone, full stop, he thought to himself, sighing. He had to quit staring at it or he was gonna be hard when he brought the guy’s order up.

Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad,some part of him thought—the part, he realized, that was clearly responsible for most of his poor decisions. Was there anything pornier and more ridiculous than a delivery driver showing up on someone’s doorstep with a hard-on?

* * *

When the knock came, Will felt like he was about to face a firing squad.

He’d make it as quick as possible. Whiskey in one hand, beer in the other, a simple ‘thanks’ and then he could shut the door, leave the shopper an enormous tip through the app, and then delete Shipt off his phone forever.

Thank God that in a moment he’d have enough whiskey to forget this entire evening.

Will unlocked the door, cracked it a foot or so, and reached for the groceries without looking at the guy.

“Thanks,” he said quickly. But something was wrong. The delivery guy wasn’t letting go of the goods.

“Will? Will Morrow?”

Will’s heart dropped. It plummeted. It crashed stupendously through the floor and then the apartment floors of the two stories of neighbors beneath him. Standing there, clutching his cheap drinks, was Daniel Rhodes, a senior English major who had been taking classes from Will—and making regular appearances in his filthiest sex dreams—for the past two years.

“Daniel…”

Daniel stepped forward, wedging his sneaker into the door.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Daniel said through a dangerous-looking smile.

* * *

Will fucking Morrow. Daniel hadn’t recognized the name because the Shipt app only gave him customers’ last names—and he had no idea that it was this Mr. Morrow. Christ, how had he not made the connection with the knuckle tattoos?

No, this was too good. His most lusted-after professor had accidentally sent him a dick pic and there was no chance Daniel was going to be leaving before they discussed this.

Will frowned at him deeply, staring down at the spot where Daniel had stepped, making it impossible for Will to slam the door in his face.

“What do you say, teach?” he asked, lifting up the case of beer and shaking it a little. “Buy me a beer?”

A neighbor walked behind Daniel and he watched Will give the man a polite little nod before responding to Daniel.

Will swallowed hard. “I don’t think so.”

The neighbor was two doors down, fumbling with his keys.

“Come on,” Daniel said, his voice just a little louder than it needed to be. “Or do you want me to stay after class tomorrow to discuss this then, daddy?”

Will’s face twitched visibly and he stepped back. “Would you keep your voice down? Jesus, come inside.”

Daniel followed him into the little apartment, hefting the alcohol up on the kitchen bar and then tearing into the cardboard box of beer. Pabst wasn’t his favorite brand, but it would do. Will stood across the bar from him, watching him warily.

“Don’t you have some more, uh, deliveries to make, kid?”

Daniel grabbed another cold beer out of the package and lobbed it at Will who caught it neatly.

“It’s your lucky day, professor. You’re my last stop of the night.”

Will groaned, cracked the can of beer, and reached for the bottle of Old Grandad. He’d had a shot glass ready and Daniel watched as his professor poured and downed the shot like water, chasing it with big gulps of PBR.

He looked exactly the same way he did in class: slept-in dark hair, sleepy eyes, a sweater rolled to the elbows with his dark tattoo sleeves on display. He groaned and cracked his neck before looking at Daniel again.

“So you’re like a real deal self-loathing poet, huh?” Daniel asked. “I always thought that was, like, a big show for your classes.”

---