Hey all, this is one of the new stories that will be offered on my Patreon. I hope you enjoy it! (p.s. I know the cover sucks >,< I made it myself)

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I learned how to run at an early age.

Before I could even walk.

Running from this or that or them.

It wasn't until middle school that my feet first hit a track though. When I first lined up on that line I knew. I knew that with my competitors on either side of me and no one to drag me down that this would be what I would devote my life to. Something where I didn't have to depend on anyone but myself.

"Tate, you're good, but I can't offer you a spot on varsity. Your grades just aren't good enough." My coach shakes his head, the visor and matching blue tracksuit he wears makes him look stupid. He raises the yellow whistle hanging around his neck to his mouth, blowing into it. It causes a piercing sound to punch at my ears because of our close proximity. I shoot him an annoyed look as I cover them. "Again! Daniel, you're getting slower! We'll run until Daniel can keep up." My coach shouts his eyes on the tired group of men bent over on the track. The red of our college's varsity sweater is tied around their waist. I adjust my black junior varsity jack on my shoulders.

I should be out there. I can run for hours and miles and am better than everyone out there, especially Daniel.

"I'm not here on an academic scholarship. I'm here on an athletic one. I'm here to run." I counter, my eyes sliding back to my coach who shakes his head as he begins writing something down on the clipboard in his hands.

"And another thing. That attitude of yours. This may not look like a team sport, but it is. You're running out there alone, but it's the points at the end of the meet that matters." My coach divulges, his eyes flickering to mine as he stops writing on the clipboard. "You should consider my offer for the relay." He says with a nod, his eyes cut away from me to go back to the track halfway through his sentence.

I shake my head, irritation pricking my skin at the dismissive tone he gives me. He can't even have a full conversation with me without blowing that damn whistle and he's wrong. Track is not a team sport. And, I'd die before I counted on someone else to get me to first place. Participating in a relay is like handing in your trophy. You might get someone like Daniel. My eyes flicker back to the track to see the man slowly falling behind the group of runners.

I turn back to my coach.

"Absolutely not. My times beat half the guys out there. I deserve to be on varsity, for the four hundred and for long jump." I challenge, giving him a hard stare. Numbers don't lie.

"I know you can outrun them--and hell out jump them, but I don't need some flight risk who may be benched because of academic probation taking up someone's spot. I'm not sure what happened with you. Your high school grades weren't good, but your SAT scores were mind blowing. A perfect score. I was just expecting more from you, Tate." He states and he turns away from me, making his way onto the track. My irritation now vibrates on my skin and I stomp after him.

More from me? I'm out on the track everyday before dawn and everyday after sunset. I'm giving him an olympian, not some geek stuck in a classroom learning about stuff he'll never use.

"Dammit Daniel, my grandma can run faster than you're running right now. Do you want me to get her out here and you go to the nursing home?" My coach yells, his face turning red. "Again!"

I watch as a few of the men on the track pat Daniel's back. The sloth of a man apologizes profusely as he tries to suck in air. I roll my eyes at his incompetence.

"Fine, so if I get my grades up then am I on varsity?" I snap, my irritation lashing out and making its presence known.

My coach cracks a smile, a snort exiting his thin lips as he adjusts his visor. "And if you keep them up for the rest of your four years." He chuckles, his laughter baiting my irritation into anger as his eyes graze over me with underappreciation.

He doesn't think I can do it. Fine. It's better that way. Give me more motivation. I dare you.

This idiot. My classes aren't even hard, I just don't want to do them. I scoff, laughing at the man with the same doubtful chuckle he had given me. This dummy just gave me a paved road to varsity.

"I wear a size medium." I smirk at him as I take a step backward and he laughs shaking his head.

"Sure kid."

***

Goals are good for me. I like accomplishing things. I like to prove that I'm the best.

Goals are what got me here. It's my greatest pleasure enjoy proving to the world--no the universe that I'll take any shitty hand and set it on fire.

I take a sip of water from my water bottle as I scroll through my laptop. My eyes scan my current grades in my classes. I click my tongue in irritation. I'm failing. All of them.

But, a lot of them are from missing assignments or exams.

I could do the work tonight and lie to the professors saying my grandma died and get them to let me retake the exams.

Easy.

The buzz of my phone on my desk alerts me of a text and my brows furrow as they go to my roommate sleeping in his bunk bed. No one texted me. But when someone did it was usually him, telling me he was locked out or sexiling me. I narrow my eyes as I pick up my phone. My eyes scan over a text from an unsaved number.

Hey again Tate. Just letting you know. I finished our project and I don't mind at all, but I just wanted to remind you that we will present tomorrow. You haven't been to class in a few weeks, but I wanted to tell you that it's a zero if you don't show up. Not that I think you wouldn't show up. Let me know if you want me to walk you through our project. I think he's going to quiz us on the programming afterwards. :))))

My eyebrows furrow. Who is this? And what project?

I open up our past texts to see that the same number had texted me three other times asking me about when I wanted to start the project and what I wanted to do. Some of the texts take up half the screen listing out possible project options. I don't read them as I blink in confusion trying to recall a group project. When did I even give this person my number? I shake my head, unable to remember and decide to just ask.

Who r u and which class?

I text back. Speech bubbles pop up on the screen immediately.

Hey! It's Emory. It's for our coding class :)))))

Ah, yes. I do have a group project in that class. I don't remember an Emory though and what's with their excessive use of smiley faces? My eyes flicker to my laptop and to my failing grade in coding. I scroll down to the weighted section and my eyes widen as I see the group project is worth fifty percent of the class. Crap. That would have been terrible to miss. My mind works fast as I look at the other assignments in the class. If I got full points on this, then I won't need to take the final to pass. I smile and the color of varsity paints my mind red.The color is quickly washed out as I read that there is a quiz attached to the project. I don't know what we're doing in the class, much less what we're doing for the project. I need to though.

My eyes run over Emory's text again. I should take him up on his offer to go over this.

Do u have time now?

I ask and the speech bubble pops up immediately.

Yes! :D But would it be possible for you to come to my place? I don't want to lug this thing around :)))

I reply back with a simple yes and a few seconds later the mystery man is sending me his address. I pack up my book bag shoving in my laptop and a few protein bars so I can hit the track right afterwards. When I type his place into google maps, I realize he lives in the houses right off campus. It's a twenty minute walk. I pop my headphones in for the journey.

Music fills my senses, but it's unable to devour the noise of my thoughts. The past doesn't like to be forgotten and loose ends scream bloody murder, dying for attention.

I am Tate Arthur. I silence the thoughts with my name.

Music returns to my ears as Emory's house comes into view. I recognize it because of the huge tapestry draped over the roof above their porch. Just as Emory had said, "Your Favorite Boys" is painted in a messy black scrawl over the white sheet. Although, I don't feel nearly as happy seeing it as Emory had come across in text with his multiple smileys.

My eyes trace the row of raggedy chairs in his front lawn. The messy external decor of the place fits the other college-town houses surrounding it and I realize they all have similar yard decorations. An occasional added beer pong table here, a cornhole there and empty bottles spice up the tacky front yard.

I shake my head as I take in the fratty row of houses. I can practically smell the old sticky spilled beer and immaturity from here. I head up the Emory's rickety porch steps, ducking under the sheet and I knock on the dirty white door.

This is definitely not a place I would choose to live.

I rock on my heels, irritation biting at my patience as I wait for someone to answer the door.

Isn't he expecting me?

I knock again.

It takes a while but the door finally swings open.

I open my mouth to comment on the wait, but I quickly find my irritation blown from my mind as heat springs to my cheeks. My eyes widen as they fall on a tall man in nothing but boxer briefs. His hair is dark and messy on his head in wavy curls. His jaw is sharp and lips plump. A couple of hickeys paint his tanned neck and the tight blue briefs leave nothing to the imagination. I can't help the way my eyes follow the happy trail on his toned stomach to the very clear large package tucked behind the blue cloth of his underwear. He leans against the doorframe, an unconcerned look on his face as his golden brown eyes run over me. He holds a bowl of cereal in his hands and lazily spoons chocolate puffs into his mouth.

He raises an eyebrow at me and I feel like a model from a Calvin Klein ad has sprung from some magazine. My mouth goes dry and I can't think of any words. My face grows hotter as I gape at him. The soft heat of the setting sun has nothing on my reddening face as I try to piece together some words.

"Are you going to say anything? You knocked at my door and now you're standing there like an idiot." The man says, a honey like accent hanging off of his words as he continues to stare at me unabashedly. It sounds Spanish and does nothing to help my staring as he chuckles biting his lip. "Hello, idiot. Do you speak English?" The stranger taunts, his sexy accent being interrupted as he brings the bowl in his hands to his mouth and slurps loudly.

The obnoxious sound and being called an idiot for the second time snaps me from my trance and I try to recover with a shrug. I avert my gaze before the tightness of his underwear hypnotizes me again. I instead decide to look at the window next to the door. I eye the broken blinds that allow me to see a little bit of the living room. I can see a tiny portion of an old couch and a worn recliner.

"I'm here for Emory." I grumble refusing to make eye contact with the rude Spanish model in front of me. How dare he call me an idiot and what kind of mad man answers the door naked? He's the idiot here.

"Ohhh you are Tate, then?" The man asks and I nod, now tracing their messy lawn. I spot a half destroyed pyramid they had built from various bottles of alcohol. They must be frat douche bags.

"Obviously." I quip back, rocking on my heels. I'm wasting my time here. I should have left when they didn't answer the door the first time. I could be training. I'm not nearly where I want to be for long jump. I need to be better. Better than everyone.

"Emory. Your lab partner is here." The strange man shouts, his voice slipping into Spanish. My mind is slow as it tracks his words. It's been many years since I've spoken or had to use the language.

The sound of a door slamming and thumping feet enters my ears and is soon replaced by heavy breathing.

"Lorenzo please go put some clothes on." A panicked voice sounds also speaking in Spanish. "Tate, Tate, please come in!" Someone says, their voice deep and not nearly as accented as the naked man. If I hadn't heard him speak Spanish, I wouldn't think he did.

My eyes flicker back to the door to see a vaguely familiar thinner man around my height standing next to the naked stranger. His dark blue eyes drink me in with torrents of excitement that seem unwarranted. Cinnamon brown hair that sparks with highlights of auburn, catch in the fading sun. It is pushed away from his face like he had run his hands through it many times. His plump lips pop against the masculine edges of his face and he is too handsome to be the boy next door, but the soft eager smiles he wears makes me think he's about to offer to mow someone's lawn.

I suppose he should start with his own.

"Okay." I respond flatly, continuing to avoid eye contact with the naked man as Emory steps back, frantically motioning me into the house.

"Thank you so much for coming! Our project is down in the basement. Honestly, I might have gone overboard with this. I know it's a freshman level class, but I just love robotics and coding so much that once I started I couldn't stop." Emory explains, his words alight with a passion that is lost on me. The brunette himself seems to produce that same light. It glows from his skin and easy smile.

I shrug, I'm only here for the points. My eyes go around the sparse living room. A large seventy inch tv sits on a tv stand brimming with multiple game consoles. An old tan couch and brown scratched up leather recliner sit facing the tv. There is a small carpet that takes up a few inches of the hardwood floors and the blinds that cover the large windows of the living room have seen better days. It's very obvious to discern what they find important.

"Who ate the last of the cereal?" A voice yells out from around the corner and moments later a man in a green oversized sweater and sweatpants comes out holding a cereal box far above his head. The dark green of the sweater brings out the green in his eyes and his dark brown fluffy hair bounces around his face and neck as he violently shakes the box. "You ate it but put the box back! You asshole traitor." The man hollers in Spanish, his green eyes sweep the room. I blink in surprise at the amount of chaos in this house, from the naked man to the homicidal one. It's nothing like my dorm. My roommate and I have an agreement. Silence and space. The man in the green sweater snaps his gaze to me and they land just over my shoulder. He jabs his finger in my direction. "Do not hide, coward." The man hisses and I feel hot breath on my neck as someone laughs behind me.

My shoulders tense immediately and I whip around to see the naked man standing too close to me. My eyes drop to the bulge in his pants and I immediately force my eyes to look at the empty cereal bowl clutched in his hand. The naked man doesn't look at me. His golden brown eyes stay locked above my head and on the fuming man across the room. I take a step away from him, straining to keep my eyes away from his lower half.

"Guys, please. You're scaring my friend." Emory yells out and my eyes go to him to see him holding up his hands at both of the men as if some invisible force would keep the angry one in the green sweater from dashing across the room. Silence hangs in the air as the man in the green sweater narrows his eyes at the man behind me, but slowly he lowers the cereal box from above his head and his eyes go to me. I nod awkwardly at him, hating that I was being forced to witness this skirmish when I had only come to review a coding project. My eyes go to the door. At this rate I'll be here all night.

"This is the famous Tate?"

My eyebrows furrow at his words as they slide back to the green sweatered man. Famous Tate? Does he watch track and field? I've had a fair number of people recognize me, but those were only people really interested in track, considering I'm not even on varsity yet he must be a die hard fan. My heart stings with pride and I smile, not bothering to act humble. Why would I when my times are one of the best. I should tell my coach about this.

"Handsome, isn't he? Makes sense why Emory's been obsessing over him for this whole semester." The naked man laughs behind me and my eyes widen at his words.

Emory...likes...me? Emory is gay? Oh, god. I should tell them I speak Spanish.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

The naked man walks around me striding towards the brunette in question and loops an arm around his neck. I watch as Emory's face goes red and the green sweatered man laughs.

"Em is actually about to take him into the basement so he can get it on." The naked man teases, his eyebrows jumping suggestively. He ruffles Emory's hair, his tan hand pushing the cinnamon strands into Emory's blue eyes. I struggle to keep my mouth from dropping open as I try to calm my blush. Okay too late. Absolutely not telling them I speak Spanish now. God. I'm just going to look at the project and then get the hell out of here and never speak to these weirdos again.

"Emmy, you dirty dirty boy. Can we watch?" The green sweater man coos, laughing loudly.

What. The Fuck. Watch?

"I was going to convince him to let us join." The naked man chuckles.

Join!! What the hell? So, all of these men are gay? Are they all sleeping with each other too? Is this some kind of sex frat?

The green sweatered man laughs, opening his mouth and I immediately cough loudly. They've said enough. I can't hear anymore.

"Hey, uh I have no idea what he said, but I hear my name and it's a little weird. Also, I have something to do later. So..." I trail off and the two men's laughter dies down as their eyes go to me.

"Right, right, sorry." Emory apologizes, pushing the naked man away from him. The man falls away from his side and strides over to the man in the green sweater. His muscular legs, showing off his perfect ass just a little too well. As the naked man stands next to the man in the green sweater, I realize he's just a hair taller than his angry companion. The green sweatered man drags his tongue across his teeth as he stares at me, a lustful look behind his eyes. My face burns and I do my best to act like I don't recognize the intense gaze. "These are my roommates by the way. Lorenzo and Jett. I don't know if you could tell, but we're international students. We're actually from Spain. So, excuse my rude friends for not introducing themselves in English." Emory says pointedly, scrunching his nose at the two men. He pushes the hair from his eyes as he turns back to me, his cheeks stained with the red hue of embarrassment.

The two men wave to me with smiles. I don't wave back.

"Hello, I am Jett." The man in the green sweater greets me, surprising me by the softness of his voice. It's degrees softer than when he's speaking Spanish. It gives his words a cute and innocent appeal despite the dirty words I knew the man was really capable of. His eyes flicker from mine to go to Lorenzo and he whispers something to him.

I nod in a greeting, pressing my lips together in a thin line as my eyes go back to Emory. "The project? Can we get this done?" I press, my words not coming out as a question, as I regard him harshly. Emory's eyes widen and he nods quickly at me.

"Yes, yes, this way!" The blue-eyed man says and he's walking past the two men, disappearing behind the corner. I curse under my breath as I'm left alone. The two men stare at me unabashedly, golden brown and pale green drinking me in. Lorenzo smirks and he leans over to whisper something into Jett's ear that has the brunette laughing loudly.

"Basement." Jett says softly to me, pointing over his shoulder.

"Yep, got that." I sigh as I trudge forward, hating that I now had to squeeze between the two men. Both of them turn to the side as I approach and I attempt to slide pass without touching either men. When I realize that it's nearly impossible I side with avoiding Lorenzo's naked body and brush against Jett. I can feel the toned hardness of his muscles from the simple graze and I try not to be impressed.

Not everyone has the commitment to work out.

"You're right, his ass is nice." I hear Jett mumble to Lorenzo, immediately dissipating my praise for either men. My face heats again and I pick up my pace, turning the corner to see Emory halfway down the stairs of an open doorway. I glare at his back. This is his fault. These are his stupid roommates. He better have done a damn good project. I follow the man down the steps and into the basement. I'm learning the project and then immediately leaving.

My eyes travel around the dingy basement, taking in the table that is littered with spare robotic arms and legs. A laptop is lying open on a rolling desk chair and a few plants sit under an LED light beneath the basement window. It's a messy space, but in the haphazard stroke of genius type of away. Despite my irritation with the man it's clear to see his talented. I look over the robotic appendages and tools on the table. Did he build this all by hand? My eyes focus in on a tiny robot that holds a key. I wonder what that one does. I had once been interested in robotics...lifetimes ago.

"I'm sorry it's so messy in here." Emory apologizes and I glance up to see him looking at me from across the table. His deep blue eyes still churn with interest. I find my face heating as I think of his roommates' words. Emory likes me? Emory is gay. The thought makes me drop my eyes from his. I'm not like homophobic or anything, but I certainly do not like men, so of course this...weird crush...embarrasses me. "Do you want to see our project?" Emory chirps, oblivious to my thoughts and I glance up unable to ignore the way his lashes brush against his cheeks. His eye lashes are kind of long. I quickly drop my gaze, giving the man a shrug as my eyes sweep over the floor of the basement.

"It's over here. I can go over the coding with you, but you just have to see this first." Emory says and it sounds like he's jumping up and down. Enthusiasm quickens his speech as if his words are hot on his tongue. My eyes flicker back to him to see him bent over something. "Come see." He calls to me, his lips pulling into that soft elated smile as he waves me over.

Finally. What I'm here for.

I walk over to the man, my eyes landing on a robotic dog that is about the size of a golden retriever. It's ugly looking and painted a sandy yellow. It stares straight forward blankly.

"I know it's overboard, but her name is Goldie. And, look what she can do." Emory exclaims. "On." He tells the robotic dog, and a whirring sound fills the basement. Light appears behind the dog's eyes and it barks once. Emory grins up at me excited, a child-like wonder smoothing his complexion.

"It's cool." I say honestly, looking back at the ugly dog. It's not much to look at, but it looks like full points to me. "What about the coding, you said we'll be tested on that?" I question looking towards his laptop. Honestly, I could just take a picture of the code and study it on my own. Then I could be out of this weird house.

"Wait, there's more. Watch this. Sit!" Emory commands the dog and the dog sits. "Jump!" The dog jumps. "Roll over." The dog rolls over. "It can do all sorts of things. I know I got carried away, but isn't it cool?"

I blink as I look at the mechanic dog standing at attention. It waits silently for its next order. My brows furrow. It's a cool invention, but this is definitely far more advanced than a freshman level class. Actually, way more advanced than a freshman level class that I haven't bothered to show up to for more than half the semester. Even if I took a picture of the code, there's no way I'd understand most of it. I need full points on this assignment.

"I don't know, this code looks pretty hard. It's a little much." I reply honestly, my eyes flickering to Emory. The cinnamon haired boy's smile drops. His dark blue eyes dim and he flicks himself in the head.

"Yeah, yeah you're right. I don't know what I was thinking." He deflates and he bites his bottom lip as his eyes go to the dog.

His drop in mood seems to bring the whole room down, and I'm surprised when the ceiling doesn't fall to flatten us both. A pang of guilt stabs at my chest as I look at the crestfallen man with the long eyelashes knelt in front of me. He stares dejectedly at the dog as if my word really means something. I lift my hand to touch his shoulder, but my senses quickly kick in and I snatch it back, snatching the guilt I feel as well. I shield myself as I take a step back from the robotic dog. What am I doing? I'm not here to be someone's friend or make them feel good about themselves. I'm here to pass a class so I can get the fuck on varsity.

"Yeah, let's just maybe stick to something simple. We just need to have a code that follows a command, can't we just have a website?" I question, taking another step backwards and away from him.

Emory nods, his fingers skimming over the sandy dog and he forces a smile on his face. "Yeah. You're right, we should just do that." The smile looks sad even with its upturned corners and I feel the stab of guilt at my side again. I wash it away with irritation. People and their fucking feelings.

"Look, I'll actually help you with time, so let's get it done." I bite out and Emory's eyes light up, despite the dark brute of my words. His long eyes lashes brush his cheeks as he smiles at me and I can't help the small satisfaction I feel at being able to make him do that.

"I-I would love that. That's so nice! Not that I don't think you're nice or anything. Obviously, I think you're amazing. Not in a weird way or like an I love you kind of way, just like ummm..what was I saying?" Emory stammers, trailing off his sentence as his cheeks redden. The blush colors his complexion nicely and I have to stop myself from staring. His words send me into my own confusion as I once again notice the handsome curve of his face. "Uhh...just I think you're nice." Emory mumbles, his blush beginning to fade as his eyes stare deeply into mine. His eyes drop down to my lips and I'm snapped back to reality as my cheeks heat.

"I'm not doing this because I'm nice. I'm doing it because I'm required to in order to pass the class." I say bluntly, laying down boundaries as I take a step away from him. Nice doesn't get you anywhere and it doesn't help you accomplish your goals. Nice makes you vulnerable. "Obviously, I have to help you make the website if I want to pass the quiz."

"Oh yeah yeah right. It doesn't matter we hang out--umm do this assignment together. That sounds great! Here we can use my laptop!" Emory says, once again seeming to ignore my curt tone as his tongue alights with excitement. He grabs his laptop off his rolling chair. "Uh, I only have one seat. I'm usually down here by myself. But, you can have it." Emory assures, his blue eyes don't leave mine as he ushers me into the chair. I blink rapidly at his fast pace he pushes me down hurriedly. An easy smile pulls at his lips as he opens his laptop. "I'm pretty good at building websites--not that I'm trying to brag, but like I think our website will be amazing. We can do whatever you want. Any color scheme or name or theme. Just tell me. I'll do it for you." Emory nods, almost talking to himself at this point as he begins pulling up a program.

His quick speech and outgoing personality nearly overwhelms me at this point and I shake my head as I look at the man. He's a piece of work. I can't even see the screen from my sitting position. Fine. I'll just let him build it and take a picture of the code. Just like the original plan. I'm sure I can figure out a simple website.

Emory begins tapping away at the keyboard, occasionally spouting off about some code or asking me my opinion on something. I realize quickly that a website to this man, would not be anything quick, and instead of arguing with him I allow him to do whatever he wants. I zone out as I rub at my sore calves. I lean back in the chair. I ran a lot of sprints today. More than fucking Daniel and I'm still going to practice later tonight. He doesn't deserve that jacket. The padding of the desk chair caresses my sore back and I crack my neck as I relax into the chair. My eyelids grow heavy and I rest my head against the headrest.

***

"Hey Tate, sorry to wake up, but umm are you hungry? My roommate brought home pizza." A gentle hand pushes at my shoulder, shaking me awake.

Adrenaline shoots through my body and my heart jumps from my chest.

My eyes snap open and I launch to my feet, grabbing the assaulter's hand and pinning it behind their back.

No more. No one will hurt me ever again.

"Ah!" Emory cries in pain and my eyes focus in on cinnamon brown hair. "Ouch Tate! Let go." The pinned man yelps.

My senses come back to me slowly. My eyes landing on the robotic dog in the corner and the plants under the LED light. I look at the small basement window that no longer has light coming through it. My heart slowly climbs back into my chest.

I'm in a basement on campus at an American University. I'm here for a school project with a man named Emory. I'm okay.

Dread hits me as I realize I have my lab partner's arm pinned behind his back.

"I-I'm so sorry." I try to apologize, my eyes widening. I let him go and he stumbles forward.

I haven't done that in years.

Emory spins around to face me. His large blue eyes framed by his cinnamon lashes brim with fright. The color has left his face and he rubs his shoulder.

"I didn't mean to..." I trail off, my mouth going dry as Emory takes a step back from me. His eyebrows furrow, creasing the space between his brows and a look of confusion passes over his features as his eyes run over me.

It sets my nerves off and my feet beg for me to run before the man asks for an explanation. He can't look at me like that. Looks like that means it's time to run. But, I don't want to leave again.

"I'm sorry. I had a Jackie Chan movie marathon last night and-and I was having a nightmare. I can't believe I actually did that." I chuckle, thinking quickly. I curl and uncurl my hands nervously.

I am at an American university where I got a track scholarship. I'm going to be on varsity. My name is Tate Arthur and I'm okay.

"It's fine. I'm sorry if I startled you...I shouldn't have touched you." Emory says and slowly the fear on his face begins to fall away. "Ha, you'll have to show me the movies because that was really cool. I used to love Karate Kid when I was younger." Emory forces a chuckle and scratches the back of his head. The fear is gone, but that suspicious look of confusion remains like a tide behind his blue eyes.

I return the fabricated laugh with one of my own and I rock on my heels.

"Uhhh...yeah. I-I didn't mean to fall asleep. How long has it been?" I ask, attempting to cut the tension in the air with a smile. My eyes flicker to the window that night now spills night through it. "It's dark." I say quietly.

"Yeah, sorry. You looked really tired, so I just let you sleep. It's been about four hours. I finished the website though!" Emory's words start out slow and hesitant, but slowly begin to gain the usual momentum I expected of the extroverted man. The tension and his confusion is expelled from the room as he dives for his laptop on the table.

"Four hours?!" I exclaim, whipping my phone out. The time is ten and I squeeze my eyes shut, frustration slipping past my lips as I curse.

Fuck. I have an 8am tomorrow that gives points for attendance and homework from another class I need to work on. That means I'll have to skip my night practice. I clench my jaw. Dammit. How the hell did I let myself fall asleep?

"Yeah, you looked really peaceful so I just let you sleep." Emory murmurs and my eyes flicker open, locking with the brunette's. A blush immediately begins to rise on his face and he averts his eyes from mine, dropping them to his laptop. "I-I wasn't staring at you or anything. I just happened to look over a couple times and each time you looked comfortable." Emory explains briskly, his words jumbling together as he aggressively taps at his laptop.

My eyebrows furrow at his weird antics. Did this man watch me sleep?

"I didn't think you did." I say slowly, watching as his shoulders tense.

"Anyways, my roommate brought home pizza. Do you want to stay for dinner?" He blurts out and my eyebrows jump up at his abrupt change of subject.

He definitely did watch me sleep.

My mind goes to Lorenzo's word and I'm reminded that the man in front of me has a crush on me. I should leave.

My eyes jump to my backpack and I quickly pick it up, slinging it over my shoulder.

"No, I really should be getting home." I say, inching around the man to head for the stairs.

"Oh, but we haven't put together the actual presentation and we're getting quizzed on this, so I thought we'd go over the coding together." Emory says with a frown, disappointment pulling his shoulders in a sag as he flips his laptop around, revealing a brightly colored website.

Fuck. I forgot about that.

I sigh loudly, rubbing my temple. I don't want to spend anymore time here, around him, or his weird roommates.

"We can do it while you eat! We'll be killing two birds with one stone. It'll be quick. I promise." Emory pipes up, his easy soft smile lighting his face up. "My roommate brought home more than enough pizza for all of us and you don't have to chip in. I can cover your contribution. So, you can eat as much as you want."

I think of my coaches words and my failing grades make me slide my backpack off my shoulder. I sigh as it hits the ground.

"Which roommate?" I ask, my voice tight. As long as it's not the naked one it'll be fine. I could just ignore Jett or act like I couldn't understand his heavy accent. I don't care if it's rude.

"Teo! You haven't met him yet, but he's a really nice guy." Emory replies and I narrow my eyes.

This Teo better not be anything like his other roommates.

"I don't like pineapples on pizza." I say gruffly and a laugh falls from Emory's full lips.

"But why, pineapple is delicious on everything." He chuckles, his eyes staying trained on me as if I'm something behold. I'm used to admiration from coaches, but the look Emory gives me is nothing like how they look at me. There's no appraisal in his irises, it's like he fully thinks I'm good enough.

"Let's go before it gets cold." Emory chirps, turning away from me and taking the look with him. He heads up the stairs with his laptop tucked under his arm. I push the color of his eyes from my mind as I follow after him begrudgingly. This will be fine if I have minimal interaction with anyone. "He's staying! He said he'll stay for dinner!" Emory yells as steps onto the last stair. I hear a couple of loud whoopings in response and I groan, my hopes falling away. Great. It sounds like they're all there. I follow Emory into the kitchen.

The kitchen, much like the living room, is not much to behold. There's a rickety table that is big enough for two people with stacks of pizzas on it and mismatched dining wear on the counter. The window in the kitchen looks out to their backyard where I can see another house with a group of guys playing cornhole in the back. Music blares from their backyard.

"I'm happy you decided to stay, Tate." An unfamiliar deep voice calls and my eyes flicker from the window to a blonde god-like man who holds out a plate to me. His hair is a dirty blonde and strands of gold and brown flop around his face, framing his sharp bone structure beautifully. Light hazel eyes that sparkle with crystals stare at from behind thick dark lashes. His full pink slips are stretched into a smile. He looks like he should be on a beach with a surfboard under his arm. Similar to Emory, I can barely hear an accent on his words. "I'm Teo, nice to meet you." He says as I take the plate from him.

"Gorgeous isn't he?" Jett says around a slice of pizza as he comes to stand next to the tall blonde. Lorenzo peers at me from his seat position on the far kitchen counter, but thankfully he is fully clothed.

Teo gives me a once over before stealing his hazel gaze away from me to look at Jett.

"Speak English while our guest is here, please." Teo commands softly, his request gentle as he pats Jett on the back. The fluffy haired man sticks out his tongue, but lets out a disgruntled 'okay'. I'm not gay, but his lack of acknowledgment of my looks makes me wonder if the man thinks I'm ugly. The thought makes me flip my hair from my eyes with a click of my tongue. I know my strengths in life and I know being above average in looks is one of them. I may not be...them, but I know I'm not ugly. People have always been drawn to my caramel skin and dark features. Perhaps he's just not gay...like me. "Please, help yourself." Teo says to me nodding to the pile of pizzas behind me.

My eyes go to Emory who is already loading his plate. His laptop sits forgotten on the counter. I irritatedly glance back out the window at the dark skies. I refuse to let this turn into a sleep over.

"Emory, we're still working on the project, right?" I ask, unable to stop the annoyance that haunts my syllables. I walk towards the pizzas. My stomach rumbles in my stomach and I take two pieces of pepperoni. It's not the best food to eat with the season coming up, but a few pieces won't hurt.

"Oh, right. Of course! Let me get my laptop." Emory coughs, a blushing rising to his cheeks as he moves towards his laptop. "You're really going to love this. The whole theme is track and field." Emory tells me as he sets his pizza down on the counter to open his laptop.

"Did you suck his dick like you wanted, Em?" Lorenzo's deep voice resonates through the kitchen stealing the air from the small room and making me choke on my pizza.

"Lorenzo, please, just because he can't understand doesn't mean you can be rude." Teo sighs, shaking his blonde head.

Jett laughs loudly, his eyes darting to Emory who stops in the middle of typing to glare at Lorenzo his face red.

"Stop saying stuff like that!" Emory huffs, pushing his brown hair from his flush face.

"Ah, what's with that look Emmy? Is he better than me?" Jett teases with a fake gasp, dramatically throwing his hand over his heart.

Not this again. I can feel my face heat as Lorenzo and Jett laugh. I look away from the group of men unable to keep a straight face. My eyes go to the dark world outside, tracing the shadows. I instead try to focus on the men playing cornhole.

I watch as two of the men jump in the air, pumping their fist. My brows furrow as person runs full speed into their backyard. The four men seem unaware as the person makes their way towards them. I squint my eyes, my eyebrows furrowing as the person jumps on one of the men tackling him to the ground. I move closer to the window, trying to see through darkness as one of the other men attempts to wrench the crazy person off their friend. As he gets the person loose, they pop up tackling the other man to the ground. My eyes widen as I move, allowing the light of the kitchen to spill into the backyard. The man who had first been attacked rolls around on the ground his hands over his face as blood gushes past their fingers. The attacker in question's mouth drips with blood and their neck looks twisted the wrong way.

That person should be dead with an injury like that.

I fall back from the window, stumbling into a hard chest.

"Are you alright, Tate?" Teo asks, gazing down at me in concern. I gape up at him, the horrendous scene outside playing behind my eyelids every time I blink.

The sound of phones digging steals Teo's attention as his eyes flicker away from me as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

"Hey, did you guys get that alert? It says to shelter in place." Emory says, concern pressing into his voice as his eyes jump around the room.

"What does this word mean?" Jett asks, his soft English voice drifting through the room. He squints at the phone in his hand, his eyebrows furrowed. His eyes jump up to look at all of us. "Cannibals?"

The room goes silent and my eyes return to the scene outside, watching as the twisted-neck woman bites at the man's neck without remorse.

"That. That's what it means." I say slowly, pointing to the murder outside.

"Lock the door right now." Teo booms. 

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Usernmae: Nadia Blue