Page 84 of Icing on the Cake

“Oh, yeah. Third floor, room three-oh-one. You can’t miss it—it’s the one with the gigantic poster of you on the door. That guy’s ahugefan.”

I clap a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, dude. You’re a lifesaver.”

He waves off my gratitude with a grin. “No worries, man. Always happy to help out a fellow athlete.”

As I climb the stairs to the third floor, I think about how Jackson will react when I tell him about Elliot’s unconventional living situation. They’re best friends. He’ll probably be stunned, maybe even feel guilty for not noticing. But if Jackson is as incredible as I think he is, he’ll want to do whatever it takes to make things better for Elliot.

I approach Jackson’s dorm room, and…wow. Thong Boy wasn’t exaggerating about the gigantic poster of me. I’ve never seen my face blown up this big. It’s…unsettling.

I knock on my nose and wait for the door to open. When it does, I gasp.

Jackson’s not wearing any clothes—not even socks. The second he realizes it’s me, he shrieks and slams the door in my face with enough force to rattle the walls. I burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Hey, don’t sweat it, man! I sleep in the buff, too. Gotta let the boysbreathe, am I right?”

A muffled groan comes from inside, followed by the sound of drawers opening and frantic rustling. Moments later, the door reopens. Jackson, now in navy-blue boxers and a black T-shirt, graciously steps aside to let me in. As I thank him, I snicker. His face is as red as a goal light, and he won’t look me in the eye.

Stepping inside, I take stock of his room. The right side is a whirlwind of football and hockey memorabilia. But it’s the shrine to me that stops me in my tracks. There are posters, newspaper clippings, and even a replica of the bobblehead Oliver once gifted me. “Gee, Jackson. Are you the president of my fan club, too?”

“No. Vice-President,” he mumbles.

I nearly choke on my tongue at his confession. I didn’t realize the guy had such a hard-on for me. “Does Elliot know?”

“Fuck no. He’d never let me live it down if he did. And you better not tell him!” He wags a finger in my face, and I step back, hands held high in a placating gesture.

“I won’t. I’ll take it to my grave.”Yeah, fat chance of that.

The left side of the room is regretfully not another shrine to me. In fact, it’s immaculate and void of any sports paraphernalia. The bed is made with military precision, and the comforter is stretched tight. A bookshelf against the wall holds books arranged alphabetically, and—holy snickers! Is that a telescope?Oh! And are those glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling?

“Sorry about being naked,” Jackson says, pulling my attention away from his roommate’s knickknacks. “I wasn’t expecting company. Thought you were my roommate.”

I sit down on Jackson’s unmade bed, my grin a mile wide. “I think you scarred me for life, dude. I’m never gonna be able to unsee that.”

He throws his roommate’s pillow at my head, which I catch effortlessly. “Shut up, Gerard. Pretty sure I’m not the first jock you’ve seen naked.”

“You’re not. But you are the first with such a tiny dick.” I chuck the pillow back at him.

It’snottiny. But it’s also not as big as mine.

Jackson flips me off as he rests his butt against his desk. “Why are you here, Gerard?”

“Well…”Where do I even start?

I survey the room in search of a distraction. My eyes settle on a calendar pinned to the wall. “Halloween’s coming up soon. You got any plans?”

Jackson perks up. “Oh my God. Are you going to invite me to the Hockey House Halloween party? I’ve heard stories. They all sound epic!”

“Then consider this your official invitation, my dude. There’ll be booze, a costume contest, and more candy than a sugar factory.”

“Oh, man! I’msothere. I already have my costume picked out and everything. Get this: I’m going as…” He drums his hands on his thighs. “Julius Caesar. But the sexy kind.”

“How does one dress up as a sexy Julius Caesar?”

“You’ll have to wait till Halloween to find out—hey, wait. Is Elliot invited? I’ll only go if he can, too.”

The mention of Elliot causes my heart to jump up into my throat. Through a forced smile, I say, “Of course!”

“Sweet. He probably won’t dress up, though. Is that okay?”

I nod, still not ready to discuss Elliot yet. I need another distraction. I glance around the room again and spot a poster of the solar system above Jackson’s roommate’s bed. “Is your roommate majoring in astronomy or something?”

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