Page 104 of Faking It Right
“Your life plan is to marry rich and become a trophy husband,” Senna pointed out.
“Who also fucks his sexy pool boy,” he corrected her. “See? Totally figured out.”
Gage switched subjects. “We need extra practice victims for our training scenarios and for the firefighters. You guys should volunteer.”
“Do I even want to know what you do to your victims?” Jagger asked.
“Nothing too invasive,” Gage assured him with a suspiciously innocent smile. “Just some fake blood, maybe a simulated bone sticking out, and you lying still while we train on assessment techniques and first aid.”
“Hard pass,” Fenway declined, clutching his beer. “Last time I helped you ‘practice,’ I ended up wrapped like a mummy with splints on three limbs.”
“That was one time,” Gage protested. “And in our defense, we were still learning stabilizing techniques. Please, you’d be doing us a huge favor. The practice dummies don’t complain nearly as entertainingly as you do, Fenway.”
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or offended,” Fenway muttered.
“Both,” everyone responded in unison.
The conversation flowed effortlessly from there, bouncing between campus gossip, class complaints, and weekend plans. I relaxed more, occasionally chiming in but mostly basking in the familiar rhythm of our group.
As the night progressed, I nestled closer to Harley, my head resting on his shoulder. When I glanced up, I caught Senna watching us with a soft smile she disguised with a sip of her drink.
“Now that we know you two are doing the horizontal tango,” Bryce said during a lull in conversation.
“Oh, no,” I groaned, not ready for whatever came next.
“I have to ask, how are you handling Harley’s colossal cock? Because I saw it when we went skinny dipping, and honey, that thing is only for pros, not virgin gays.”
I choked on my beer, coughing violently as Harley patted my back, laughing.
“Damn, you’re just throwing that out there,” Gage groaned.
“What? It’s a valid question!” Bryce defended himself. “I’m concerned for Ryker’s well-being. That’s a lot of man to handle for a first-timer. Even I’d need to take extra time to stretch, and I use dildos the size of my forearm.”
Once I could breathe again, I surprised myself by playing along. “Sorry, I’m still waiting to hear back from my health insurance company about whether I have coverage for ‘death by enthusiastic impalement’ before I try to tame the beast,” I deadpanned, earning a snort from Harley.
Jagger howled with laughter. “Look at our little Ryker, all bisexual and finally making good sex jokes.”
“Just because I don’t announce my sexual conquests to the entire campus doesn’t mean I don’t have them,” I shot back.
“Ooh, he’s got some bite now,” Bryce teased. “Harley must be rubbing off on you in more ways than one.”
“Speaking of rubbing,” Harley started, and I elbowed him in the ribs.
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” I warned.
“What? I’m on my best behavior,” Harley insisted with an innocent expression.
Fenway snorted. “Sure you are.”
The conversation shifted again to Gage's family drama with his younger brother, who had dropped out of college to pursue a career as a professional gamer.
“My mom calls me in tears every day,” he lamented, raking a hand through his hair. “She thinks I can talk some sense into him because I’m the ‘responsible one,’ but he won’t listen to me either.”
“Some of those gamers make serious money,” Fenway pointed out.
“Yeah, like one in a billion,” Gage countered. “The odds aren’t great.”
As they debated the merits of professional gaming as a career, I watched Harley. He was fully engaged in the conversation, offering his thoughts and laughing at all the right moments, while keeping that casual physical contact with me with a hand on my knee. He made the transition from friends to something more seem so effortless.
