Phone Game Chapter 2 By Roe St. Alee
This story contains sexual content involving college age males. If this offends you, or this material is illegal where you live, please leave this page immediately. This story is a work of fiction, and any similarities to real life people, places, and situations is purely a coincidence.
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As warm as it was this afternoon, the evening can only be described as pleasant. As the day faded it left a decent amount of its warmth and humidity, but both have settled into a very comfortable level.
It's the sort of evening that makes you want to take a deep breath and smile at the final light of the setting sun. It's good just to be outside, even if we're just walking across campus.
On top of the weather, and so much more importantly, it's my first night at college I'm walking with my new roommate, and dare I say it my very first friend.
Josh walks slightly ahead of me, as he is technically leading the way. He said he knows a cool little pizza place on the north edge of campus. It's Thursday night, and they run some sort of special that brings in a good amount of students. During the year it'll be packed to the gills according to Josh, but since only a small amount of students are on campus, we should have an easy time getting dinner.
"How do you know all this stuff about campus?" I ask. It only now occured to me that Josh seems to know a lot of the ins and outs of living here, even though he said he was from the city, a few hours away.
"Two of my brothers go here," he says, "so I've been visiting town for years. That's why none of my stuff is moved in yet either. It's all at Marshall's place right now."
That actually explains a lot. I meant to ask Josh why his side of the room was so barren, but we got caught up talking about other things, and then we both got hungry.
It's a common problem of when you leave all the decision making up to two eighteen year old, I guess. Sometimes your stomach takes over and calls the shots.
"Your mom just lets you come hang out at a college all the time? Mine would not be ok with that."
This summer I was allowed to visit my cousins in New York where they go to school, which was definitely not on the approved list of my activities last year, even though I must have asked about a thousand times.
Josh just laughs. "This isn't exactly a happening place. I can get into way more trouble at home than I ever could here." He shakes his head. "Plus there's no way my brothers would ever let me do anything crazy. For one they don't want me to have too much fun. And more importantly, my mom would straight up kill them."
I laugh at that. Moms are the same no matter where they come from.
We arrive at the northernmost street separating campus from town, the aptly named College Avenue. Compared to the relative darkness of the amber light poles on campus, the bars and restaurants on the other side are glowing like the sun.
We cross the street and head over to a white and red store front with a glowing neon sign on the front that reads "Carlo's." It looks busy, but I don't see a line out the door. Josh must have been right about us actually being able to find a place to sit tonight.
"I hope you're hungry," he says as he holds open the door for me. "These slices are no joke."
The smell of fresh baked bread and roasted garlic hit my nose as soon as I enter. If I was hungry before, now I feel like I could eat a horse.
After a few minutes in line, we make our way up to the counter and each order two slices. I might usually think about getting more, but Josh assures me that two will be more than enough, even for someone as hungry as me.
As I'm filling out my receipt, I hear a familiar voice from behind me.
"Fancy seeing you here."
I feel all the good vibes of the last two hours melt away. It's Dylan Litchman.
A major reason why I chose this school was to get away from everything from high school. And now there's one of my least favorite things from high school trying to talk to me on my first day at college.
I take a deep breath and try to keep the grimace off my face as I turn around. I find myself hoping against hope that it was a false trigger in my memory and that I'm actually hearing someone else's voice.
To my great disappointment, it is in fact Dylan Litchman, in the flesh.
"Hi Dylan."
He looks, quite unfortunately, exactly how I thought he would. From his perfectly coiffed wavy blonde hair, to his brilliantly white teeth, to his designer shoes. He looks great. Just like he always does. Trade the outfit that looks like it came out of a magazine for a school uniform and we could be back in senior year all over again.
"What are you doing here?" I ask. I can't quite keep the bite out of my tone, even though I try. I didn't try very hard, but I did try.
Dylan puts his hand over his heart and attempts to look hurt.
"Jacob," he says, using the name everyone called me in high school, "it almost sounds like you aren't happy to see me. Your oldest friend at college and you don't even want to say hi."
I will myself not to roll my eyes. Oldest friend? Not even close.
"Hey, man. I'm Josh."
He sticks out his hand right between us, pointing at Dylan, who takes a step back and disengages from me. I like this guy more every minute.
Dylan grabs his hand and flashes a million dollar smile in our direction, but mostly at me. It's the smile I remember from high school. Charming, brilliant, and slightly shit eating, like a career politician. All the visual of a smile, but very little amusement behind it.
"Dylan. I know Jacob from way back."
Josh nods sincerely. "Me too. We've been roommates for... gosh. I don't know, a few hours?"
Dylan smile turns wry.
"You're both living in the dorms? Should be fun."
Josh raises an eyebrow.
"Sorry, I guess I thought you were a freshman. What year are you?" he asks.
Dylan's smiles reverts back to it's full state.
"I am a freshman," he says, "but my dad went here and I've been able to bend a few rules for my first semester. I have an apartment on Westminster."
Freshman are required to live in the dorms at Walton. But of course Dylan has found a way to avoid following the rules and pretend that he's better than everyone.
"Damn," says Josh. "That's cool. I didn't know you could do that."
Dylan shrugs. "You boys are welcome to come over sometime if you want. The door is always open."
Before I have a chance to tell Dylan that I would rather die, the bell rings at the counter, which means our pizza is ready. The promise of a hot slice of pie calms me enough to rein it in, and I manage to be civil.
"Thanks for the invite," I say. "We'll let you know."
Dylan's smile cools a little at my rebuke. Again I tried not to say it spitefully, but something about him just brings out the worst in me.
He composes himself and nods to Josh, then to me. As he does, he makes eye contact and I see something strange in his look. Something I can't quite read, but I know I don't like it.
"I'll see you around."
I grab my plate of pizza and turn toward the seating area without wasting any time. I mercifully spot a small booth against the window wall of the restaurant and make a beeline for it. The best part about the booth is that it can only seat one on each side.
As soon as we're seated I hear the bell ring again at the counter. My fears were unfounded, as I see Dylan's order being handed to him in a to-go container. I sit in silence until he walks out the door, then finally breathe a sigh of relief. When I turn back to my pizza Josh is staring at me with wide eyes.
"Not a fan?"
His voice brings me back to the present moment, and I realize that my heart is pounding in my chest.
I shrug. I'm not really sure how to answer that.
Social situations make me nervous sometimes, but when Dylan Litchman is involved it takes things to a whole new level. He has never been especially mean to me, and he was never a ringleader of any of the things that happened in high school, but he's somehow the epitome of what it was like. The casual indifference of someone who knows that he's better than you.
"He seems nice?"
It comes out as much as a question as it does a statement. Josh finishes the thought by stuffing a massive mouthful of pizza between his jaws, which gives me a little time to think.
How do I convey what I think about Dylan?
I promised myself that I would be different in college. I convinced myself this summer that my personality in high school was too firmly established to ever change, but that a new place and new people wouldn't be a part of that. I could be different, start differently, and react differently. And that would make things better.
Thirty minutes ago, when I met Josh for the first time, I believed in my ability to control my own destiny in college. It was exactly like I had planned.
But now, there's Dylan. An anchor dragging me down, right back to where I started. A person who will know what I really am, or at least what I was for so many years at home. And somehow that will bleed out into the rest of my new life, and eventually, it will ruin everything.
I sigh again and take my own bite of pizza.
This was bound to happen. Sea changes don't happen overnight, and every step is not always in the direction you intend to go. But I didn't expect a hurdle to be so immediate and so large.
I finish chewing and see that Josh is still looking at me expectantly. I guess he probably doesn't have anything else to say in my absence.
"High school was..."
Josh laughs before my trailing off settles into a full silence.
"I thought that might be it," he says. "You didn't want high school coming to college."
"Right." I can't think of a more accurate summary of what I'm thinking about.
"And Dylan wasn't a friend in high school."
"Exactly," I say. "Honestly I always thought he hated me."
Josh smirks at me and chuckles. "He does not hate you."
"Ok, maybe not hated. But indifferent. Like he's better than me and doesn't care about me one way or the other. Like I don't..."
I want to says it's like I don't even matter. But I won't do that. That's high school talking.
Josh doesn't seems to notice. He just laughs again.
"I don't think he's indifferent either," he says.
"What do you mean?"
"He's into you."
I stop mid-bite and set my pizza down.
"Now you're just talking crazy. In the very few instance that he has even bothered to notice me, he's been a dick."
Josh shrugs. "It's not that crazy," he says. "That's just how some people react to that stuff, when they feel that way. Especially in high school."
I shake my head emphatically. "There's no way," I reiterate. "Dylan is not into me."
"Well I don't think it's me," he says. "I mean, I definitely got the gay vibe from him. But he wasn't directing it at me. It was all at you."
I feel my cheeks getting hot. It's too ridiculous to be true, but Josh seems so sure that he's starting to convince me, just the tiniest bit. I try to deflect one last time before he can notice me getting flustered.
"You're right about him being gay," I say, "but if it's anyone, it's you. He's never given me the time of day before this."
Josh relents. "If you say so, man. But I saw what I saw." He holds up the last bit of his first slice of pizza. "Not really my type regardless."
He crams the pizza into his mouth, and settles back in his chair, thankfully appearing to let the topic go. The less I have to think about Dylan, the better.
Halfway through chewing, I hear front door open behind me and Josh's eyes light up.
"Now that," he says, somewhat intelligibly through his mouthful, "is my type."
I turn back to look, and have to stop my mouth from dropping open.
Six feet tall and wearing a cut out gym shirt that shows just about everything, a statue of a human being walks through the front door. I've never seen an Asian guy so filled out, and strikingly handsome in his features as well.
His six-pack and who knows how many other hard muscles are clear as day through the openings of his shirt, and the bright orange waistband of underwear poking out from his gym shorts only call even more attention to what exists under his clothes. It's impressive, no matter how you slice it.
Under his arm is a brunette who is cut from the same cloth. She has a perfect body and her gym outfit is showing off just about as much as it is covering. Soccer-style shorts rolled down at the waist, a crop top with only a brightly colored sports bra underneath. Tan and toned, but still with hips and generous breasts.
I'm thankful that I am certainly not the only one staring as they walk in. Best not get called out for that on my first day.
"Yeah," I mutter to myself. "Totally."
I look at the couple of the century for as long as I can without being creepy then finally avert my gaze back to my pizza. When I look up again, Josh is still staring. He looks dazzled, like he just saw a movie star.
"Wait," I say as a thought suddenly occurs to me. "Do you mean-"
"I meant the girl," says Josh. He looks at me with a sarcastic look of reproach, but a smile in his eyes.
I haven't gotten any sort of vibe from Josh that he might be gay or even bi, but I didn't ask either. And I know enough to know that you can't always tell when someone is gay right off the bat. It isn't always like Dylan, who wears it on his sleeve and talks about it every chance he gets.
"I figured you meant the girl," I assure him, "but no worries either way."
"Well damn," says Josh. "Then sure. Either. It the opportunity presented itself."
I laugh and then grab my soda.
Josh shrugs. "I'm serious, man. He could toss either of around. Both at the same time if he wanted to."
I almost spit out my drink.
"Plus," he continues, "there's something about him being Asian. It's like a rare treat."
I laugh even harder and set my drink down. It's not worth trying to swallow something at this rate.
Josh smiles but then turns more serious and looks me in the eyes.
"I am serious though," he says. "So hopefully you were serious too when you said that doesn't bother you."
I stop laughing and fully meet his gaze. Just like before, in the dorm room when we agreed to trust each other this year with anything me talk about. I want him to know that I mean it, and that our trust can extend out to all subjects, whether we're in our room or not.
"Totally," I say.
He nods appreciatively and sneaks another glance at the couple. I look at them again and it's almost as stunning as the first time. Objectively I can't honestly say which of them is hotter.
"You're not wrong," I agree. "He's pretty damn..."
I hesitate to say that he's hot. That just doesn't feel like something I would say, but it doesn't make it less true. I'm sure Josh knows what I mean.
"I'm never wrong," says Josh. "If I like something, I like it. It's that simple. If it's a girl, cool. If it's a dude, whatever. And in this case, it is most certainly all of the above."
"Do you know him?" I ask. "Or her?"
"That's Kyle Bang," he says.
I gape incredulously at my roommate.
"Yeah," he says, "I'm for real. And his girlfriend..." He taps his temple like he's trying hard to remember something, then snaps his finger with an air of accomplishment. "...is whatever hot piece of ass he's pounding this week."
Something sparks in my head and I recognize the name. It's obviously memorable, and I saw it somewhere at the college. I'm not too proud to admit that it made me chuckle when I read it earlier, but I can't quite remember where. Either way, Josh isn't making it up.
The service bell rings.
"That's how you do it when you're that hot," Josh says, gazing wistfully into the distance. "You just pick em out, and lay em down." He shakes his head. "Being captain of the rugby team can't hurt either."
I start to laugh but stop short as Kyle and `Hot Piece of Ass' grab their pizza from the counter and start moving straight for us. There are only three aisles in the entire restaurant, and as luck would have it, they've chosen ours. Probably best if I'm not laughing at them when they walk by.
I look down determinedly at my pizza and try to look busy until they pass.
"What's up, Josh?"
I look up at Josh and he nods cooly in response. I glance to my right to see if it was Kyle, and then it happens.
As my eyes pan up to Kyle Bang's perfect, chiseled face, he makes eye contact and nods his head upwards at me. The universal cool-guy sign of saying hello.
The instant our eyes meet I feel like a gas burner lights one inch below my face.
He wasn't even talking to me, he barely even acknowledged me, and I blush harder than I ever remember doing in my entire life.
It was just that one half of a second of eye contact. Something about it. His gaze was so deep for such a short amount of time. And oddly piercing. I don't know what it was, but it made my stomach clench and my cheeks hot.
And the girl walked right by me too. She was the one I wanted to look at, and I was ready to take her in with the side of my eyes as she went by. I definitely wanted a closer look, but I got stunned.
I take a drink of water and feel my cheeks returning to their usual color. When I look back as Josh he looks cool and collected, like nothing even happened. He the one who's into this guy, but he was unfazed. And I'm over here feeling like I might cough up a stomach full of pizza.
"You ready to roll?"
Josh's voice pulls me back to the present. I am definitely ready to go, and the fresh air might do me good. Kyle has officially left with his takeout, and the coast is clear.
"Yeah," I say weakly, "for sure."
We wrap up the rest of our pie in the foil sheet it came on and leave the restaurant. We have an early day tomorrow, and it might come in handy for some breakfast.
I step outside first and immediately feel better. Maybe it was just hot and stuffy in the restaurant, and that's what was getting to me. Every breath of fresh air I take feels like it's clearing my head.
As Josh steps out behind me I hear him mutter under his breath.
"Kyle Bang..." He steps next to me and leans closer. "You felt it too, right?"
His question catches me off guard and I try to play it off.
"Felt what?" I say.
"When he walked by us, bro. Did you feel it?"
I turn toward campus and start walking across the street without answering.
He's right, of course. I felt it, and I'm not even sure what to call it.
But sometimes I just need to process my own feelings before I can admit to them, much less before I talk to my new friend about them.
Josh scurries up behind me and pokes me in the shoulder, falling in step beside me. He's not letting it go.
"You felt it," he says. "I know you did." He pokes me again and holds his finger against my shoulder accusatorily. "I saw you blush, white boy."
I feel a wave of embarrassment wash over me, but when I look over to Josh, he's smiling his usual smile. The one that says we're all in it together. The one that's an invitation to join, not a barrier that's shutting me out. It's not something I'm used to, but I like it.
It's good to know that it wasn't just me. Josh felt it too, even if he didn't react quite as visibly. To his point, I can't really see him blushing.
"Yeah," I finally admit. "I felt it too."
Instead of dread or embarrassment, I feel relief that I said it. We're roommates, after all, and we can talk about this stuff. Even if it's weird, or I don't fully understand it myself. We can talk about it.
And in this case, it was Kyle Bang.
Whatever it was, I most certainly felt it.
In the next chapter: Orientation. A professor. And two shades of grey...