“Yeah,” Cully replied in response to Jordan’s query. “And it’s okay—I can go back to my room with… uhm… Larry? I think that was his name.”
“He was an asshole, J,” Dante said squarely. “Gave him shit about his bags. I had to get him out of there.”
Jordan nodded. “Well, it turns out, I’ve got us an in….” He looked to the front of the line, where the student volunteers sat giving out the dorm assignments. “Here, guys, follow me.”
“Uhm,” Bartholomew started out, and Jordan rolled his eyes.
“I’m not ditching you, Barty. I got a feeling about us. We’re gonna be pretty amazing roommates.” He smiled at Dante and Cully reassuringly. “But we gotta do something for this guy. Nobody deserves to room with a dick.”
“I mean, it’s the boy’s dorm,” Cully said. “Technically, that’s the point.”
Jordan laughed heartily and then made his way to the front of the line. There were two people sitting at the table with room assignments—a curvy brunet with pretty brown eyes and a heart-shaped face and a guy with more muscles than Dante had ever seen who kept trying to get her attention. The girl—whose name badge said Kate—was giving him a lot of rolled eyes and attitude, but Josh, according to his badge, kept giving her this loopy smile that, Dante could tell, was working its way under her armor.
It was adorable, or would be if they didn’t hold Cully’s fate in their hands.
Kate smiled winsomely at Jordan, but not like she was flirting. They’d met before, Dante knew, and she was obviously charmed. Jordan came back grinning, with new room assignments.
“Okay, so Dante, you and Cully are assigned a new room. Dante, that means you have to move out of the old one, and your first roommate is getting someone I’ve never heard of. Me and Barty stay the same, and we’re good to go. Who needs help moving where?”
And that had been it. Dante and Cully had been moved in shortly, and Jordan and Bartholomew—who would hereafter be known as “Barty”—were a few doors down. A couple of weeks later, Jordan would recruit Alex into their little group, and that would be the seven of them, friends and coven mates for life.
But for that night, it was Dante and this new guy he’d rescued and wanted to know better, in their dorm room, trying to make awkward conversation.
“So, uhm,” Cully said as he was tucking—surprise!—flowered sheets into his bunk, “you’re from Southern California?”
“Yeah,” Dante said on a sigh. “Westwood. Go figure. You done here?”
Cully nodded, so Dante sat down on the vibrant magenta bedspread. Wow. Lots of color in this room. Dante was a tan and navy guy, as his side of the tiny two-bunk dorm attested.
Cully was only standing a few feet away, though, and he squinted at Dante. “I’m from the foothills. I have no idea what that means.”
“Well, it’s really conservative,” Dante said simply. “So, uhm, I came out and my entire family froze. My parents didn’t talk to their own friends for a week while they figured out how to do damage control. I had to promise not to tell anyone they knew so they didn’t have to deal with the social awkwardness.” Dante rolled his eyes. “It wouldn’t have been so bad if some of their married friends hadn’t already come on to me. Gross.”
Cully’s eyes widened to the point of making him look horrified. “That’s… I mean, my father was fine with it. He certainly wasn’t surprised.” Cully made a gesture to all the things Dante had helped him unpack. Gay icons abounded: Barbra Streisand, Adam Lambert, Kelly Clarkson. Add the crystal decanters of body spray and the super-expensive skincare products to the flowered sheets, and it was like Cully hadn’t wanted to skywrite it because that would be passé.
“Well, no,” Dante agreed. “Uhm, is there a reason you didn’t want him to be surprised?”
Cully shrugged like this didn’t hurt. “I just… I wanted him to know who I was.”
And it was like Dante could speak fluent Cully in that moment. Suddenly he got all of the over-the-top flowers and the frilly shit on the dresser and the poufy shirt he was wearing and the bangs cut to highlight those eyes. Nobody in Cully’s small hometown knew who he was. Nobody understood his love of theater, of drama, of costume, of show. He was loud because he’d been shouting into a void his whole life—he didn’t know how to tone it down.
“Well,” Dante said, hoping this was what his new friend needed to hear, “if this is who you are, I like him!” He smiled with all his heart, hoping Cully would respond, but he got big hurt eyes instead.
“Aw, Cully,” he said softly. “What’s the matter? I was trying to be friends!”
Cully worried his lower lip with his teeth until it grew puffy and the whole kissable package was complete. “You weren’t making fun of me?” he asked tremulously.
“No!” Oh Lord—Dante had screwed this all up. “No, I want you to feel seen! Do you feel seen? I see you. You’re unmistakable, in a great way! I mean, I went through a lot of trouble to get you out of an asshole’s room. The one thing I don’t want to be is another asshole.”
Which was why when Cully nodded and gave a shy smile—one of the last shy smiles Dante would ever see from him—Dante hadn’t made a move on him that night.
Heaven knew he wanted to. Cully was standing close enough for Dante to smell, and he smelled of those super-fancy grooming products, something mangoey, but underneath there was sweat and young man, and Dante was a fan. But more than that, there was Cully’s vibrant clothes, his vibrant eyes, his complete lack of apology in his presentation, even if he didn’t quite have the chutzpah to brazen all that shit out.
It was coming, and Dante was dying to see it.
And he really wanted to taste those worry-swollen lips. He was taller than Cully by a few inches. He could lean over and put his hands on those lean hips and plunder that sweet mouth and….
And he couldn’t. He’d just finished telling Cully that he was seen. What kind of unforgivable dick would Dante be if he moved in on the guy when all he was looking for probably was a friend?
So Dante smiled up at him with zero intention in his eyes at all and hoped he’d get another chance. He had to get another chance, right?
Except… that wasn’t right, was it?
Dante looked up at this new friend, this outrageously beautiful boy with the hint of flirt in his smile, and bit his lip in what he hoped was provocation.
“So, uh,” he began. “I see you. Do, uh, you see me?”
Cully’s eyes widened, and he bent his head—not that far, because Dante was pretty tall—and drew close enough that their breath mingled.
“I saw you walking down the hall,” he whispered. “I wanted you to take me with you so bad.”
Dante’s eyes grew hooded, and he could hear his heart thundering in his ears. He’d been kissed a few times in high school, but he hadn’t wanted anything, ever, as bad as he wanted Cully Cromwell to kiss him.
“I took you with me,” he said. “What’re we gonna do now?”
Cully’s lips on his, whisper soft, were not simply an answer, they were a promise.