Final exams were finally upon us, with Christmas break starting right after. I had just finished my anthropology exam, and I was dazed and burnt out. One more exam tomorrow and I was done. I found a bench on the quad outside Harrison Hall and inhaled the outdoors, careless of the cold gloaming afternoon. It was already getting dark and I had no plans.
Griffin texted: "get over here now. I have a surprise 4 u" Shit. Hooking up with Griff since our happy swapping of horny head in a library mens room in October was pure joy, but I really wanted some down time to savor my ambivalence and exhaustion. I texted: "OK, Heading up there now"
I shouldered my backpack, put on my knit cap low over my ears and headed out the path to Griff's off campus apartment. Being called to his apartment still sent green birds of lust flying around in my guts, as his invites to watch a game or eat Taco Bell or get high were all Griff code for 'I want to fuck you'. It would get my mind off of tomorrow's final at least.
At his front door, I listened before I rang...silence. I rang once, and the door opened almost instantly, something that was not in his usual playbook. "Little Spoon! get your ass in here, it is damn cold out there!" He pushed his wild mane of longish dark hair back; ragged old jeans, barefoot, scruff, clean wife beater. His 'Bama country boy look, full bore.
"Hey Griff, you look good!" He hugged me hard, and I inhaled him, fresh showered, hair still damp, honey bar soap.
"Rolling Rock? They are frosty cold."
"Fuck yeah. I need a liquid lobotomy after these insane exams. My head is totally fucked." He opened the two green bottles in the kitchen and carried them by the necks in one big hand, a move that sent me into abject hero worship. Griff's easy, unstudied southern masculinity washed over me again.
"Yeah? I bet I could help with that," giving me his dark male gaze. "You look good tonight, kinda' rumpled. Like you got fucked in a stairwell, but in a good way."
"Thanks! Very classy. So much for the life of the mind. We shall get heartily fucked up and then fuck heartily." I said. He laughed and tousled my short blond hair.
The doorbell rang. He looked at me grinning and said "Ready for your surprise?"
"Sure. Whatever." Cool, cool, be so cool.
Griff answered the door, and in came one of Griff's jock posse bros, I'd seen on campus but did not know. He was short, wide shouldered, a frame that he had worked hard to pack with thick muscle. Varsity wrestling team. "Rolling Rock for you, Anders?"
"Hell yeah, Griff. I need that." Griff opened another bottle in the kitchen. Anders turned to me, hand outstretched. "Hi. Hugh Anders. Everyone calls me Anders." Warm green eyed male gaze, excellent dry firm handshake.
"Travis Ravenel. They mostly call me Trav."
"Yeah, I've seen you on campus, but I don't think we've had any classes together." We both kicked back on the ugly plaid sofa. He looked around. "I helped Griff move in here. We found this sofa next to a dumpster." Mid-western accent; Chicago, but good west side 'burbs, like Barrington Hills or Hinsdale. It was clear that Anders and Griff had some history, and likely, if I knew Griff at all, that they had hooked up more than once. I fought back a stabbing twinge of acid green jealousy. Relax. Be cool. Let the evening implode.
"You should have tried another dumpster, 'cuz this thang is butt-ugly." I said, referring to the plaid sofa.
Anders shrugged, and laughed, "Well the price was zero except for some dinged pride. People actually watched us loading a dumpster sofa into my truck. The shame was Biblical."
Anders wore a ringer tee shirt with the neck ring accenting his big sinewy neck and the sleeve rings showing off the easy massing of his biceps. He was thick thru the chest as well, the whole package a compact knot of male beefiness. I did not usually go in for blond or ginger guys, but Anders had the most awesome shock of thick strawberry blond hair, plus his fearsome forearms were covered with slightly coarser blond fur. Worn green sweatpants, drawstring hanging loose at the front. Damn.
Griff handed Anders the bottle of Rock, and pulled up the desk chair and sat down. He looked at me questioningly, dark eyebrows raised. The footlocker/table had been moved away from the sofa. Griff had plans; I was in them, so was Anders.
"So, Griffin, what is my surprise? It can't just be the frosty cold Rolling Rock, good as they are," calling his bluff.
Anders answered low and evenly, "I think I am your surprise, Trav. And you are my surprise." His green eyes were wide with a kind of friendly boy lust.
"OK then. Griffin, buddy, anything to say here?" I said with a sly smile.
