It was that acceptance and agreement to acknowledge gay themes that had caught Jared’s attention. So many of his teachers in the past had wanted to gloss over anything they considered sordid, which was, in Jared’s view, the best reason to read old books.
He sat at the back of the classroom because he was secretly farsighted, and it made his life a lot easier if he didn’t have to squint at what was being projected. There were only a few people milling around when Jared arrived, so he found his usual seat and pulled out Wilde again.
“Are you seriously reading that for pleasure?”
Jared looked up into Adam’s lopsided, dimpled grin.
“I’m trying to,” he said.
Adam plopped down in the chair next to him. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like reading. But I usually go for stuff a bit more… masculine.”
Jared closed his book and decided to fight this one out. “Are you saying Wilde is, what, effeminate?”
“Dude. Yeah.”
“Based on what? He was openly gay in a time when it was literally a death sentence.”
“I know that. And fair props to the guy. He didn’t have to flounce around London and Paris but he did, born that way and all that shit.”
“Exactly. So… what’s your definition of ‘masculine’ gay books?”
“Oh, not gay fiction, just books in general,” Adam said, waving Jared’s words away. “I like things with a bit more grit, you know?”
“Examples, Adam.”
“Vonnegut. Hemingway. Nabokov.”
“That’s an interesting mix. Of men who were known to be assholes.”
“Maybe that’s why I like them,” Adam said with a grin. “You want to come over later? We can start your French tutoring.” He wiggled his tongue.
Jared huffed a laugh. “Keep your tongue in your mouth. No one wants to see that.”
“Be there by six,” Adam said, turning his chair to the front and pasting an “I’m listening” expression on his face.
At six-fifteen—Jared didn’t want to set unrealistic expectations—he pulled up outside the Hemlock mansion. With his French textbook tucked under his arm he strolled up to the front door and knocked, appreciating how the sound echoed through the cavernous entrance hall.
Adam answered with a scowl on his face. He was wearing loose running pants and a close-fitting T-shirt.
“You’re late.”
“Yeah. Traffic,” Jared said with a shrug. It was bullshit. There was hardly any traffic at all on the island, let alone enough to get caught in.
Adam turned on his heel and headed through the house and down to the kitchen, leaving Jared to close the door. “You want a drink?” Adam called over his shoulder.
“Sure,” Jared muttered and followed him.
“I gave Lisa the night off,” Adam said at normal volume. It was this sense of entitlement Jared found both oddly charming and incredibly obnoxious—Adam made no attempt to make Jared feel welcome. To hold a conversation, Jared had to hurry to catch up, finally falling into step alongside Adam at the top of the stairs that led to the kitchen. “I can order in if you want to stay for dinner.”
“Sure,” Jared said.
Adam crossed to the fridge and pulled out two Snapples, holding one out for Jared, who took it with a soft “thank you” and followed Adam up the back staircase to his little empire.
Jared had been nervous about Adam turning into an asshole when they got to the actual tutoring part of the evening, and was pleasantly shocked. They sat down on either side of the low coffee table on cushions, books spread out between them, and worked through the written assignment for class that had taken Adam about five minutes.
“How did you learn to be so good, anyway?” Jared grumbled as Adam pointed out a spelling mistake.
“My mom is part-French,” Adam said lightly. “French French, not French Canadian. When I was little, she would speak to me in both languages, so I grew up fluent.”
“And she’s in France now?”
“Yeah,” Adam said. He was much less of an asshole when Jared got him on his own. Almost like any other guy. Almost. “She went to Paris a few months ago for a job. It really upset her to leave, but she got an amazing contract there to work on some new buildings in the city, and I knew she was desperate to do it. We talked about me transferring to a school there but I don’t have dual citizenship, which makes it harder. In the end she went on her own.”
There was something on the tip of Jared’s tongue about them both being lost boys, abandoned to their own devices at just eighteen years old. The difference was, it seemed Adam’s mom actually gave a damn about her son compared to his own parents, who blatantly didn’t. Not that he was bitter or anything—being independent was awesome.
“When will you see her again?” Jared asked, playing with the edge of one of his textbooks, wearing at the corners of the pages.
“Thanksgiving, I expect. She promised to come back.”
Jared nodded. “That’ll be nice.”
“Yeah.”
Adam smiled, and it was sweet and handsome and made Jared’s stomach do an awkward cartwheel.
“Do you want to take a break?” Adam asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Because, you know, oral is a vital component of the final exam. You should practice. I want to make sure you get the best possible grade.”
Jared laughed. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I know.”
Adam hauled himself up onto the couch, then pulled Jared up too. They moved closer, and Adam shifted until he was straddling Jared’s thighs. His eyes were hypnotizing; even though Jared knew he could move at any time, he was fixed in place, watching as Adam inched closer.
They had kissed before, so Jared knew what to expect when Adam’s eyelids flickered, then closed as he leaned in close. Jared met him halfway and let their lips touch softly, curiously,
