Page 30 of Advanced Chemistry

Anton nodded, taking it all in, thoughts swirling behind his eyes.

“You really think I’m smart?”

“Absolutely.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but there was no sly comeback, no smooth line. Not even a flirty smile. He did something I didn’t expect at all: he blushed.

Then he did another thing I certainly didn’t expect: he palmed my crotch, sending a sizzle of lust up my body.

His dark eyes bore into me with heat, but I detected a trace of fear in his pupils, like I’d hit on a dirty little secret he was desperate to cover up.

“Seb and I would really like to see you again. I mean, you didn’t even get off last time. What kind of gentlemen would we be if we didn’t return the favor?”

Just as my lips were about to buckle and a groan of deep-seeded want was about to fly out, Anton stepped back. The music started up again, the lights turned back on, reality was upon us.

“It was good bumping into you, Chase. Always fun catching up with former teachers.” Anton clapped my shoulder and left me alone in the hall.

Though I wasn’t alone. I had the tent in my pants to keep me company.

10

ANTON

The only time you’d find me on a college campus was because I was visiting my mom or dad. They were professors at this super crunchy liberal arts college where students seemed to spend more time protesting than studying. Dad taught macroeconomic theory, and mom taught comparative literature. Were there two subjects that I could have less interest in?

They’d met as grad students years ago and left each other secret notes in each other’s cubbies when they first started dating. Nowadays, they interacted more like colleagues than a couple.

After stocking the vending machines at South Rock, I hightailed it over to their house for a family dinner. As “collateral” for loaning me some money to get Beverage Solutions off the ground, I had to agree to dinner at home once a week. According to an ex-hookup, it was veryGilmore Girls, whatever that meant.

At tonight’s dinner, we were eating chicken shawarma, but I was in a bit of a daze. I was still in shock that I grabbed Chase’s dick in the hallways of my old high school. That was forward, even for me. The thing was, I didn’t do it to turn him on. I did it to shut him up, and I was trying to figure out why. Why was I so rattled at Chase calling me smart?

Fortunately, it was easy to zone out at dinner. I had nothing to contribute. The topic of conversation was Dad’s latest article that he’d gotten published. He and Mom got articles published in journals and magazines that I’d never heard of, but were supposed to be impressive. I was still waiting for their spread inSports Illustrated.

“I loved the part where you dove into the adverse selection dynamics in Central American debt markets,” Mom said, swirling her glass of wine. “Your grasp of the tenuous geopolitical climate and its effect on labor was brilliant. Just brilliant.”

“Thank you, dear. It can’t hold a candle to your exploration of Flaubert’s earlier works for that piece inComparative Literature Quarterly.” Dad held up his wine glass, and they air-clinked.

Were the conversations always this boring onGilmore Girls, too?

I didn’t understand genetics. I looked like Mom and Dad. Mom with her olive skin and toothy smile, Dad with his height and thick eyebrows. There was no question that I was their son. Yet I didn’t seem to inherit an ounce of their brain power.

“What do you think, Anton?” Mom asked.

“I think…I think this is awesome shawarma.” I pointed at the platter and gave her a thumbs up. “A-plus.”

“Your dad marinated the meat.”

“A-plus, Dad.”

I knew my parents loved me, and I loved them to death. But I couldn’t help feel like an idiot around them. Did the smart gene skip a generation? Would my kids be geniuses?

Sebastian thought my folks were a cute couple. A pair of brainiacs. But was this really what he wanted from a relationship? Talking to your soulmate about economics articles and watching passion curdle into a stagnant friendship? My parents were rarely affectionate with each other, though they seemed generally happy. Whatever their deal was, it wasn’t for me. To each their own.

“How was your day, Anton? Did you sell any vending machines?” Mom asked. I ignored the twinge of condescension in her voice.

“We don’t sell vending machines. We install them and operate them in facilities. If you sell a vending machine, you only get paid once. But if you rent them out, you get paid every day.” I looked at Dad, and he gave me a smile of modest approval. I didn’t know jack shit about macroeconomics, but I knew how to make a buck. “Today, I had to do some restocking for a client.”

The thought of Chase popped into my head. He looked damn good in his proper, preppy teacher’s outfit. His ass was still biteable in those khakis he wore. He was a gorgeous man.

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