Page 26 of Shiver
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The hourI tell Egon I’m staying goes by far too slowly. I manage to grade a whopping three papers. Instead, I pass my time scrolling through a food delivery app and selecting our meal. Pizza first, because, well, pizza. Then wings. Beer delivery. Tavern fries, sweet potato fries, and onion rings follow that. Ice cream hurricanes because they’re my one weakness. And we’ll end the food binge with a run in the gym downstairs before I drag him back upstairs to pass out.
Yes, I’m planning another sleepover by first filling him full of shit and then running him ragged in the gym until he can barely move.
Seduction has to begin somewhere, and I know what makes Egon Wolf tick.
The walk to my building is quiet. My mind has moved on to what we’re going to watch tonight. Maybe we’ll start with sports, move into playing video games, and end with movies after the gym, to set the ambiance to encourage him to fall asleep.
I contemplate sending him a teasing text that he should bring his toothbrush as I push open the lobby door to my apartment building and stop short.
Though my building is primarily occupied by graduate students, there are the few odd undergrads dwelling here. The man standing before me is one of them. Though he’s not an athlete, he’s one of the few occupants of the building who utilizes the gym like I do.
And it seems like the slutty blonde Barbie has a type—athletically built jocks. While Oscar Simmoa isn’t a jock, he could pass for one. If memory serves, he’s on the same track as Egon—exercise science. But right now, his focus is on sucking the face of the cheating jersey chaser currently wrapped around him like wisteria on a tree.
I shift so that I can see for sure what they’re doing. Not that I have any guesses since his hands grip her ass as she rubs her body against his and his mouth is on hers like a leach.
There is a moment where I grimace. I’m just not interested in seeing hetero… stuff. It’s one of the reasons I’ve mastered a neutral expression. Blank-faced means you can’t see me mentally dancing around goingewwww, gross, stop!
I pull the outside door shut, waiting for the spring to slacken. When it loosens and the door is heavy in my hand, I pull it shut with a loudslam. They jump apart, the guy nearly dropping Dumb Barbie on her ass. It’s almost comical as he struggles to keep her from splitting her head open on the tile floor.
When she’s on her feet, her eyes are wide as she looks at me. Simmoa gives me a half smile and an up nod, per our usual hallway greeting. But Dumb Barbie stares in horror. Caught again.
Returning Simmoa’s hello, I turn on my heel and head for the stairs to my room. Maybe I should have somehow assured that they’d remain like that until Egon shows up. Let him catch her so I don’t have to either keep ignoring it or tell him. At this point, I think we’re friends and I’m obligated to do the ‘friendly’ thing and inform him that he’s with an unfaithful slut.
As I reach my door, the elevator opens and Dumb Barbie runs toward me. “Wait,” she says, grabbing my hand. “Please, don’t say anything to Egon. Please.”
I snort and pull away from her, reaching for my door to unlock it. Everything in me stiffens in a cringe when she wraps her arms around me. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while if you keep what you saw between us.” I can sense that this tone is supposed to be sensual. All it does is send a shudder through me and make bile rise in my throat.
“No, thanks,” I say. My voice is hard. She flinches.
“I promise I know what I’m doing.” Dumb Barbie doesn’t give up or back away. Her hands are still on me. Her big breasts press against my back as I stand stiffly with my key in my door. She probably thinks that tone is supposed to be seductive or at the very least, alluring. Maybe I should tell her she’s barking up the wrong tree.
“Doubtful,” I tell her, pushing her hands off me and turning to face her so I can intercept her touching me again.
Anger flashes in her eyes. “What guy doesn’t want a blow job? What are you, gay?”
I raise a brow. I’m about to tell her I am when she tries again. The anger lines in her forehead smooth out and she steps closer, looking up at me through her fake lashes as she blinks like she has something in her eyes.
“Come on. Surely a stressed grad student like you needs a little relief.” She places a hand on my stomach, her fingers quickly curling into the waistband of my pants. I grip her wrist and yank her touch from me. She gasps.
“Don’t touch me,” I growl.
“We can work something out,” she insists. With all pretense of attempting to seduce me gone, she’s fallen back into frustration. “Just let me suck you off in payment for not telling my boyfriend what you saw. What straight guy wouldn’t go for that? You’re just his tutor. He’s not even paying you. I will pay you for the both of us.”
“Being gay has nothing to do with my disinterest in going anywhere near your mouth,” I deadpan.
“You’re a jerk,” she snaps. “He won’t believe you. Just like he doesn’t believe everyone else who claims they’ve seen me with someone.” She pushes her hair back and fixes her shirt as she turns on her heels and freezes.
Beyond her, standing in the stairwell door, is Egon.
TEN
EGON
I’ve beento Rake’s apartment too many times to count at this point. I think I’ve seen most of the residents in passing since I come and go during the busy hours of student life when they’re leaving and returning. So when I walk in as the elevator is closing and am sure I catch a glimpse of Temca, I’m pretty confused. I’d know if she had friends in Rake’s building. It would have come up by now. I’d have seen them.
I wait long enough for the number on the elevator to stop before taking the stairs three at a time and land on Rake’s floor. Coincidence? Pausing at the door, I take a breath. It’s my imagination. That’s all. She’s not really here.
