Auggie was pretty sure that Theo would keep his word; Theo had, after all, headbutted one asshole and broken the hand of another. He’d protected Auggie when the woman had drawn a gun. That was serious stuff; Auggie didn’t think Theo would balk now. And Auggie knew that showing up at Theo’s door—he pictured one of those gingerbread brick houses near campus, where most of the faculty lived—might seem a little crazy. A little . . . stalkerish.
But he kept thinking about what it had felt like for someone to see him, the real him—scared out of his mind, without special lighting or filters or a hundred different shots to get it right, touching Theo’s thigh, gayer than God and not knowing what to do about it, no poise, no charm, no clever comment—someone seeing him like that, the real him, not the cardboard boy in all his pictures, someone seeing him and still liking him. When he’d first started building his internet persona, the dopamine rush of all those likes had left Auggie feeling high, floating for a while until he crashed and needed it again. He’d done his research, learned about social media and the dopamine loop, and moved past that, seeing the interactions now for what they were: his business. But those early dopamine highs were kiddy stuff compared to the rush of Theo’s arms around him, Theo’s breath hot on his ear, Theo’s voice low and rumbling in his chest. You did good. You handled yourself really well.
And so, knowing he was stupider than anybody in the history of the world, Auggie opened up a browser and started searching for Theo’s address.
12
On Saturday, Theo went to Downing, the way he did every morning now. He biked to the closest bus stop. When the bus came, he chained his bike and boarded. He spent an hour at Downing, and then he took the bus back.
“Fuck,” he said.
Someone had stolen the back wheel off his bike.
He considered unchaining the thing and lugging it back home; his hip and knee throbbed just at the thought. So he hiked back home, out into the boonies. It was nearing noon, and the September sun was high and hot. The late morning traffic on the road kicked up dust, and by the time Theo got to his street, his oxford was stained with sweat, and the chinos had spatters from where an asshole had hit a pool of standing water right when Theo was passing it.
When he got to the brick house, he stopped at the end of the driveway.
“Fuck,” he said again.
Auggie was sitting on the steps. He was in jeans and a polo, and somehow he managed to look like sitting on the broken-down steps of a house in the middle of Missouri was some kind of photo shoot. When he saw Theo, he stood, grinned, and waved.
Theo felt something he couldn’t name pressing down on his breastbone; he whispered, “Oh, fuck.”
“Auggie,” Theo said when he got to the steps. “What are you doing here?”
“Hi,” Auggie said, his grin getting bigger. “Good morning.”
“Good morning. What are you doing here?”
“You’re all dressed up for Saturday morning. Did you have an important meeting or something?”
“Yes,” Theo said. “I’d like you to answer my question, please.”
“Oh, sorry. I know this is weird. Please don’t think I’m crazy. I just . . . I was thinking about Robert. Thinking about this whole, weird mess. And I realized I didn’t thank you for helping me yesterday.”
“Yes, you did,” Theo said. “You said thank you.”
“But, I wanted to show you how much I appreciated it. So I thought I could stop by, we could talk things over, see what our next move is, and then I could buy you lunch.” Auggie opened his arms innocently: “Just lunch. Just a thank you.”
Theo wiped sweat from his forehead. Down the street—which was saying something, out in the boonies, where the next house was on its own acre lot—Mrs. Rudock was calling for Barnabus, their dog. She sounded royally mad.
“Auggie,” he finally said.
“Please don’t say no. Look, I couldn’t stand the thought of sitting in the dorm all day, and I’m freaked out because those guys might come back, and I know if we work together on this, we can find Robert. And then it’ll be over, and I’ll leave you alone.” Auggie flashed another smile, more tentative this time. “Please?”
“I’m your instructor.”
“Please, Theo.”
“This really isn’t a good idea.”
“Please. I swear, I will not take advantage of you.”
In spite of Theo’s best efforts, an eyebrow went up.
“I mean—no, I didn’t mean—” A blush worked its way across Auggie’s face. “Oh my God, that is not what I was trying to say.”
“So, my honor is safe?”
Auggie tried the smile again. “I meant, you know, with grades. This is separate from class, I get that.”
Suddenly, it was hard for Theo to remember why the morning had seemed so bad. Downing, the bike, the long, hot walk—they all seemed smaller now.
He passed Auggie on the steps, unlocked the door, and went inside.
“Uh,” Auggie said from the doorway, playing with the screen door, the thin aluminum making its sing-song warble as he worked it open and shut. “Am I supposed to stay out here?”
Theo kicked off his shoes, gave the living room a glance—chaotically messy, yes, and he shoved some of Lana’s toys into the corner—and then took the stairs. He called back as he went, “You already stalked me this far. I don’t think it really matters what I say at this point.”
Upstairs, two bedrooms were tucked under the eaves: a larger room that Theo and Ian had shared, and the smaller room that had been Lana’s. Theo unbuttoned the oxford, tossed it in the hamper, and checked the white undershirt, which looked pit-stain free and probably cleaner than anything else at the moment. He tossed the chinos in the hamper as well, tried to decide appropriate wear for an extremely hot
