Social Skills (11 page)

“So…your
mom is kinda intense,” Jared said as he got in beside him.

“Yeah.”
If only there were some way to wipe the
entire last fifteen minutes from existence…

“Or
maybe the word is ‘overbearing’. I wonder if that played a part in you being
the way you are…so shy and all?”

“I…I
don’t know. I think maybe I was just born that way.” Connor shrugged, his face
growing warm.

“Well,
she’s strange, that’s all I’m saying. You and your sister are like musical
geniuses, and you’re a regular genius, too, getting A’s in all your classes…I
would think she’d be grateful instead of complaining.”

A
smile pulled at the ends of Connor’s mouth. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

They
drove on for a good twenty minutes, until the neighborhoods they passed grew
sparser and the trees denser. Far from civilization, Jared pulled onto a little
dirt trail that probably led to a house deep in the woods. He cut off the
engine after traveling a few feet.

“Sorry,”
he said as Connor looked to him for an explanation. “I can’t wait any longer.” He
unbuckled his seatbelt and threw himself over Connor’s body. “Missed you,” he
muttered in between kisses.

Home
and all of its oppressive memories faded as they continued to reacquaint
themselves, until Jared pulled back with a rueful glance at where his erection
was pressing against the zipper of his jeans. “Fuck, we still have like two
hours of driving left before we can…”

Connor
focused on the strained zipper, then cast his eyes on the trees that shielded
them. “Who says we have to wait?”

“Are
you serious?” Jared drew in a sharp, excited breath. “Please don’t tease. I’m…I’m
like dying for you here.”

Nibbling
on his lip, Connor reached for Jared’s zipper. “I’m n-not. I’m not.”

Jared
lifted his hips off the seat so Connor could work his pants down and then settled
back once he was exposed. “Connor…you’re…you are just…”

Connor
could have waited for whatever sweet thing Jared was going to say, but he had other
things on his mind. They’d been separated far too long. He bent over and drew
Jared in, deeper than he’d been able to before from this new angle.

“Sh—…oh,
yeah,” Jared grunted. His fingers wove into Connor’s hair and he tugged and
pushed a few times, following up with quick, breathless apologies.

The
seat in the old station wagon squeaked. The whole car squeaked, actually, as
Jared squirmed, his knees banging into the steering wheel. Connor pulled away
for a second of rest, flicking Jared with his tongue as he went.

“Oh
shit,” Jared moaned. “Oh…”

Connor
quickly reopened his mouth to receive the stream. No sense in ruining Jared’s
car.

“Oh,
shit, Connor.” Jared said again. “Sorry.”

“It’s”—Connor
swallowed—“it’s okay.”

Jared
chuckled, pulling his pants up and redoing the button. “That was more than
okay. And I think…I think maybe it’s your turn for, uh, for that. I mean, if
you want.”

Connor
said nothing, his body quivering like a plucked string with the rush of desire.
Of course he
wanted
. Maybe he couldn’t
have asked for it on his own, but if Jared was even half as good at blowjobs as
he was at kissing…

His
zipper clicked its way down, and he braced himself against the doorframe and
the center console until his pants slipped to his thighs.

“Y’know,”
Jared remarked, “you actually have more experience at this than I do, so, uh…”

“Please,”
Connor murmured before he could stop himself.

“Hey,
I didn’t say I wouldn’t try.” Jared kissed him, a mischievous glint in his eye.
He reached over and jerked at the seat adjustor, throwing Connor back so that
he wound up staring at the drooping fabric roof of the car.

“Uhh…”
Connor gasped. He wanted to be more coherent…maybe call out Jared’s name, or
something hot like that, but he couldn’t form words once Jared had his lips on
him. Jared’s tongue darted out to lick down his shaft, and any chance for
speech was gone. Slippery warmth enveloped him and Jared’s dark curls bobbed up
and down to an ever-accelerating tempo. Eyes rolling back in his head, back
arching, Connor shot out down Jared’s throat.

“Mm.”
Jared sat up and wiped his mouth. “You taste saltier than me.”

Still
shaky from the release, Connor returned his seat to its normal position. “Y-you…you’ve
tasted yourself?”

Jared
pulled him into a hot-breathed kiss. “Only on your lips.”

They
resumed driving with sated smiles, in a comfortable kind of silence Connor had
never experienced before. And when Jared slid a hand into his lap, palm up, he
took hold of it, and they stayed hand-in-hand all the way until the
Charlottesville city limits.

SECOND SEMESTER

Chapter Eleven

“Quit
trying to distract me,” Connor reprimanded.

“Distract
you?” Jared glanced up innocently, as if he hadn’t been tracing a line from one
of Connor’s hipbones to the other—a line that was dipping suspiciously
lower with each pass.

Connor
rolled his eyes and went back to reviewing the paper in his hands, until Jared
slipped low enough to catch a tuft of pubic hair with his fingers. “Jared,” he
groaned. “You’re the one who asked me for help with this. If you want me to
look it over, you’re gonna have to actually give me a chance to read it
through.”

Jared
huffed and pulled away. “Yeah, but that was before I knew you were gonna get
all crazy with the red pen.”

The
pen was blue, actually, but Connor put it down anyway and shifted to catch
Jared’s eye. “I’m only trying to help.”

“I
know.” Jared developed a sudden interest in his cuticles. “But you’re not even
in this class. Are you sure my paper sucks that badly?”

Sucks
wasn’t the word Connor would have
used. But disjointed, unsupported, and unclear would probably translate to that
in Jared’s mind.

“I
know I’m not in the class, but I’ve taken history classes before, and I have a
general sense of what makes a good paper. I’m sorry if this sounds mean, but I’ve
gotta say—”

“Hold
it,” Jared interrupted, throwing up both his hands. “Are you gonna make me wish
for the days when you were too scared to talk to me?”

Accustomed
to Jared’s brand of teasing by now, Connor hesitated only a moment before
continuing. “What I was going to say is, you’re smarter than this. How much
time did you spend on the reading before you wrote the paper?”

“The
reading?” Jared parroted back, then gave Connor a rueful smile. “Connor, if I
did all the reading for my classes, I’d never see the light of day again. And I’d
never see you, either. We barely have any time to spend together without the
tutoring excuse now, and you know how busy I am.”

“I
know.” Connor fought to contain a sigh. “It just sucks, ’cause I know you could
do a better job. I can edit the paper for you, but you really need to go back
to the sources and try to make your ideas more cohesive.”

Jared
closed his eyes and scooted down on the bed, draping an arm around Connor and
resting on his body.

“I’ll
see what I can do,” he mumbled. “And thanks for helping. To be honest, I spat
that out in like thirty minutes, which obviously wasn’t enough time. I’ve just
been sorta stressed, and practice hasn’t been going that great.” He reached
down and scratched at the ace bandage on his knee. “I’m beginning to think I’m
doing more of a disservice to my dad’s memory—” Cutting himself off
abruptly, he burrowed into Connor’s chest. “Never mind. If he were here he’d
just tell me to buck up and be a man.”

Connor
set the paper down and placed his hand on Jared’s back, feeling how taught the
muscles were. He was terrible at massages, so instead he dragged his fingers up
and down the contours of Jared’s body. After a few gentle caresses, Jared’s
tension dissipated, his shoulders relaxing and his breaths becoming deep and
even.

A flash
of confidence shot through Connor.
His
touch had that power—the power to comfort Jared in a time of need. “I’m
sure your dad was a man in more ways than just football,” he said gently. “Like
in providing for his family, raising you and your brothers…I mean, I know
football is important to you, but if you ever did want to move on, I don’t
think you should feel guilty about it. Your father may have told you to be a
man, but I doubt he ever said to be the exact same man he was.”

Jared
considered the words for a moment before breaking into a sly grin. “Maybe you
should be a therapist. Then you could dole out advice on a regular basis.”

“Hah.”
Connor snorted. “Like that wouldn’t be the blind leading the blind.”

Jared
tickled him, jabbing a whole hand into his ribs. “Don’t sell yourself short. You
have a lot to offer, you know. If you don’t want to be a therapist, how ’bout a
teacher? I got a B minus in anthro, and I definitely owe that to you.”

“I’m
supposed to be pre-law, remember?” Connor shooed Jared’s pestering fingers
away. “And anyway, we have some time yet before we have to worry about jobs. Let’s
just enjoy our free time while we have it.”

“Finally!”
Suddenly revived, Jared bounced up and tore off his shirt. “I thought we’d
never get to the fun stuff.”

***

“You’re
not sleeping, are you?” Rebecca’s voice greeted Connor through his cell phone
later that night. “It’s only like twelve-thirty!”

“Mmm?”
Connor grumbled, rubbing the crust from his eyes. Before college, twelve-thirty
had been the middle of the night. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Good.
Get your ass over to Newcomb, then. We’re going steam tunneling.”

“Steam
tunneling?” he asked warily. “Isn’t that illegal? I’m pretty sure we had a
special meeting during orientation about how it’s dangerous and—”

“Connor,
there is no way you can graduate from UVA without going steam tunneling. You
might as well get it over with. Now hurry it up. We’ll be waiting.”

She hung
up, and Connor was left trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness.

Evidently,
friendships involved phone calls out of the blue, encouraging him to do things
he would have once considered dangerous—or criminal. But he was pretty
sure he could trust Rebecca, and now that he was awake he’d just wind up tossing
and turning, wishing Jared had stayed the night instead of disappearing with a
wistful kiss.

So
he threw aside his blankets and dressed.

Even
with the heavy winter coat, he was shivering by the time he arrived. He found
Rebecca, A.J., Tate, and Chrissy waiting for him with one of the preppy girls
who’d happened by their lunch table a few times that semester. He searched his
memory for her name and landed on Beth.

All
five of them were visibly freezing, arms wrapped around themselves in a futile
attempt to protect their barren skin, because they were all wearing t-shirts.

Rebecca
frowned as he approached. “What t-took you so long?” she exclaimed through
chattering teeth.

“Um…I
have a fifteen minute walk to get here. Your dorm is only like five steps away.”

A.J.
shook his head. “Dude, you can’t wear that in there.” He grabbed a handful of
Connor’s jacket. “You’ll roast. They’re
steam
tunnels, you know.”

After
a quick stop at Rebecca’s room to drop off his coat, they headed for the
closest entrance to the tunnels. They had to wait several minutes, hopping
around to keep up body warmth, as a slew of passersby made entry risky.

Once
the coast was clear, A.J. and Tate grappled with the manhole cover, grunting
with the effort it took to remove it. Connor almost went to lend a hand, as he
was the only other male present, but he ended up staying back. He doubted he’d
be of much help, anyway—Rebecca was probably stronger than he was.

The guys
managed the feat and Tate dropped in first, then whispered for the others to
follow. Rebecca jumped down without hesitation. A.J. and Chrissy struggled a
little, and evidently needed help from either Rebecca or Tate, because by the
time it was Connor’s turn, he could hear them joking about being sexually
molested. Apparently, they’d been aided by “hands on the ass.”

Flashlights
switched on below, and Connor started down the rungs on the side of the tunnel.
They stopped short of the ground, though, and he waited there to gauge the
distance he’d wind up falling if he let go.

“Don’t
freak,” Tate said. “I’m gonna grab you.”

Hands
wrapped around his waist, and Tate deposited him on his feet.

“Okay,
Beth, hurry up!” Rebecca called out.

The
tiniest of the bunch at barely five feet, Beth almost made Connor feel tall. She
came down in the glow of the flashlights, her shiny strawberry-blond hair
catching and reflecting the beams. Tate grabbed her the same way he had grabbed
Connor, then shimmied up the ladder, followed by A.J., and together they pulled
the cover back into place.

Without
even an inkling of moon or streetlight present, it was clear the flashlights
were necessary, or they would have been plunged into complete darkness. It was
also hot—extremely hot—and Connor had already started to sweat. A
cockroach scuttled by his feet and he jumped back reflexively.

“Don’t
worry,” A.J. said with a grin. “They’re about the only living things we’ll run
into down here.”

Beth
let out a frightened squeak. “Kill it!”

“Don’t!”
Chrissy shouted at nearly the same time. “It’s one of earth’s creatures. What
has it ever done to you?”

Beth
stuck out her tongue. “Carry diseases…and creep me out. You guys didn’t tell me
there were going to be bugs down here.”

“There
aren’t,” Tate countered. “Just cockroaches. It’s Connor’s first time, too, and
you don’t hear him bitching.”

Beth’s
cheeks reddened as she crossed her arms, turning away.

The
embarrassment in her downcast eyes was all too familiar, and an urge to comfort
overtook Connor. “I really hate roaches, too,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll
kill them for you if I can.”

She
smiled gratefully.

Tate
led the way, skillfully ducking and crouching when the ceilings dipped lower. Graffiti,
Latin quotes, riddles, and artwork appeared as their flashlights trailed the
walls. After ten minutes of meandering through the narrow passages, Connor finally
had to ask what their destination was. He’d soaked through his shirt, and as he
breathed in the thick, heated air he began to wonder if it wouldn’t have been
prudent of him to bring his inhaler.

“I’m
taking you to see Jesus,” Tate told him.

“Umm,”
Beth cut in, her voice tense. “I’m agnostic. How much longer is it?”

“Not
much,” Tate responded cheerily. “We’ve just gotta crawl through this one
tunnel.”

“
Crawl?
”

The
tunnel in question was only large enough for one to get through on hands and knees.
Tate, A.J., Chrissy, and Rebecca dropped down on all fours like seasoned pros
and started to squirm their way through, but before Connor could follow, he
felt a frantic tug on his arm.

“Crap,”
Beth whispered. “I can’t go through there.”

Connor
tried his best to sound encouraging. “If Tate fit, you and I sure will.”

“No,
I mean, I can’t. I’m…scared.”

The
flashlights, held by the four senior members of their group, were rapidly
disappearing down the tunnel. In a moment, they’d be left in darkness.

“Hold
up!” Connor shouted down the narrow opening.

“What?
Why?” came the agitated response, from Tate.

“Just
give us a sec,” Connor found himself demanding, something he doubted he would
have done if he and Tate had been face to face. He turned back to Beth. “I have
no idea where we’re going either, but …if you want, maybe you could hold onto
my ankles while we crawl through. Maybe that would help?”

In
the shadows, he couldn’t make out Beth’s expression, but he heard her exhale
softly. “Okay.”

She
gripped him firmly as they began, occasionally letting out little whimpers of
fear. The whole crawling part only took about a minute, but by the time they
emerged even Connor was feeling slightly claustrophobic.

He
turned around to help Beth to her feet and she fell into his arms, her body
trembling. “Thanks, Connor.”

Tate
put the flashlight up to his face so that he looked like an eerie ghost-version
of himself. For the first time, he stood completely straight, making whatever
space they currently occupied the one with the highest ceilings yet.

“And
now, ladies and gentlemen, I present…Jesus.”

In
concert, A.J. and Tate turned their flashlights to the wall, which was indeed
graced with a huge Jesus-face. Or, at least, it was Jesus if Connor took their
word for it. Though artistically done, it was hard for a floating head in the
darkness to look like anything other than a creepy apparition.

“Pretty
neat, huh? It’s been here for a while now.”

Beth
still had her arm around Connor, and she raised a dainty eyebrow. “Um, yeah, I
guess so. A spray-painted Jesus. Is that all we came here to see?”

“We
came for the experience,” Chrissy said. “And to add ourselves to the history.”
She reached into a small pouch at her waist and pulled out a can of spray paint.
“Time to make our mark!”

They
traveled further to find some relatively less-crowded patches of wall, then
took turns painting their initials. Beth stayed close by Connor’s side, though
she seemed to relax a little until everyone was done and it was nearing time to
go.

“Please
tell me we don’t have to go through that tunnel again,” she whined.