Page 13 of Advanced Chemistry

Was it just me, or did his hand linger on my skin for a second longer than it should have? Before I could second-guess, the first rain drops plopped on my head. The weather turned, as the rain became heavier.

“Well this sucks,” I said.

“There was a twenty percent chance of rain in the forecast, so we can’t say we weren’t warned,” Chase said.

“It’s just some water.” Anton shrugged, uninterested in running to shelter like those around us. He was still possessed by the energy we had on the dance floor. “Let’s hang out back at our place until the weather clears up. What do you say, Chase?”

Chase rolled it over in his head. “Sure.”

“Seb?” Anton turned to me. “Sound good to you?”

Anton had something up his sleeve. The wheels continued to turn in his head. But would he really try to put the moves on a former teacher? Wasn’t that too far, even for him?

I should’ve held back, but something deep in me wanted to see what happened, how far this game could go.

“Sounds good.”

4

CHASE

As we made the trek back to Anton and Sebastian’s apartment, I kept thinking about how my friends teased me when we initially bumped into them at the winery a few weeks ago. They kept telling me how hot these two former students were and that they were hitting on me.

I thought they were seeing things that weren’t there, except for the hotness factor because Anton and Sebastian were very attractive.

But perhaps my friends were onto something. If we went by standard flirting criteria—big smiles, touching, complimenting someone’s looks—then objectively, Anton was flirting with me. But flirting was such a nebulous space in human interaction. One person could see flirting, and another person could be friendly.

The guys lived in an older apartment building a few blocks off the downtown drag. We were soaked by the time we got back and walked up the three flights of stairs to their place. My T-shirt clung like a weight to my chest.

Anton and Sebastian whipped off their shirts right away and flung them over dining table chairs. The wetness from the rain prickled on their firm chests. Despite being so similar, Anton and Sebastian had very different body types. Anton was tall, dark, and toned, his long torso crested with a six-pack.

Nope. Make that an eight-pack.

Sebastian was several inches shorter than him. He was squat and wide, but built like a tank, with beefy arms and a broad chest. He also had an eight-pack, but it was more compact.

I technically had a six-pack, too, but only because of natural thinness caused by genetics. Not because I actually worked out. My ancestors weren’t warriors. We were the medics tending to the warriors.

I got by with bodyweight exercises to keep myself spry and ward off potential health issues down the road. Studies showed that body weight could be as effective as working with heavy weights. Still, looking at these two gorgeous bodies in front of me, I had to wonder if maybe the gym had its benefits.

I told myself not to gawk at Anton and Sebastian since they’d been in my classroom only a few years ago. The temptation was very hard to resist.

Sebastian passed by me en route to his bedroom. When he left, I could feel indeterminable energy crackle between Anton and me, like we were particles that could combust by being in proximity to each other.

“You want something to drink Mr.—I mean, Chase.” Anton leaned against the entranceway to the kitchen, the muscles in his arm fully on display. “It’s gonna take me a while to get used to that.”

“I’ll take water if you have it.”

“Of course we have water. We also have beer, too.” Anton cocked his head slightly, as if he were daring me.

“I’ll take a beer.”

“Sweet. I didn’t want to drink alone.” He adjusted his crotch, then went into the kitchen. Was that adjustment for him or for me?

Despite not attending college, their apartment had the broke-college-student decor down to a T. The living room was modestly furnished with a futon, a coffee table, and a TV plus gaming system on another coffee table with the wires hanging behind. On the wall were a mix of sports posters for local teams, a mismatched cluster of framed pictures of family and friends, and posters with business plans for their vending machine venture. They were doing a lot of manifesting, and I admired their motivation.

Sebastian came back wearing a dry South Rock Wrestling T-shirt. His dirty blond hair was rumpled, presumably from being rubbed with a towel.

“How’s the business going?” I asked.

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