“You’re going to go to Downing.”
“That’s right. Now, convince me why you’re not going to run off and tell Officer Cartwright, or anyone else on the force, about this?”
Theo’s breathing was sheared off at the ends; black spots whirled in his vision, and he knew he wasn’t getting enough oxygen.
“Be persuasive, Theo,” Lender said gently, digging the gun into his throat again.
“Because you’re a cop,” Theo managed to say. “Who are they going to believe?”
“And because I will kill Officer Cartwright if you tell him, and then I will go find Auggie, and then I will go to Downing. I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive, son. Please don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m stupid.” He stood with a grunt and said, “Getting old is a bitch, Theo. You have two weeks.”
3
Auggie was trying to get ready for the day, and Orlando wouldn’t get out of his way.
“You have to talk to me at some point,” Orlando said quietly, filling the bathroom doorway.
Finishing with his hair, Auggie checked the button up and cardigan.
“I know I was an asshole,” Orlando said. “But I really like—”
With one finger, Auggie pointed to the dorm room that shared their bathroom; the door was open, and no doubt Tyler and Chris could hear everything.
“I like hanging out,” Orlando said with a faint blush. The heavy scruff was back, and he was wearing just his compression shorts and a ratty old Fox Wrestling tee. “I was drunk, and I was frustrated, and I acted like an asshole.”
“Could you move, please?”
“Not until you talk to me.
“I’m going to be late for class.”
Orlando’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped into Auggie’s space, sliding an arm around him, tugging him forward.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Auggie whispered, stiff-arming him.
“Come here,” Orlando growled, and he dragged Auggie into their room and shut the bathroom door. He pressed Auggie up against it, his body outlining Auggie’s, his mouth inches away. Then his grip eased, and he smoothed Auggie’s shirt. “Why do you make me so fucking crazy?”
“That sounds like a bad line,” Auggie said. “Get off me.”
“I thought about you all break. I’m so fucking mad at myself for the way I acted.”
His hand was still at the small of Auggie’s back, and he tugged again; this time, Auggie let him.
“I want to make it up to you,” Orlando said.
“Orlando—”
“I know you don’t want anything public. That’s fine; I mean, I’m bi, and I’ve told guys on the team, but keeping things private is honestly easier for me too. I really like you. I think you like me. I know how to keep my mouth shut.” He grinned, pressing in where their bodies joined, and Auggie felt himself getting hard. “And I think we could have a lot of fun.”
He bent in for a kiss.
“Oh no,” Auggie said, sliding away. “No fucking way.”
“Augs, Jesus, man.”
“Now I’ve got to walk across the quad with a boner. How’s that for discreet?”
Orlando just smirked and tugged at himself.
“This is worse than gay porn,” Auggie said. “In gay porn they just fuck and don’t have to talk to each other or ask their roommate to pick up his fucking Xbox controllers.”
“Let me show you how nice I can treat you,” Orlando said. “Let me make it up to you.”
“Bye, Orlando.”
“Dinner, tonight. Please.”
Auggie rolled his eyes.
“That’s a yes! That’s a yes, Augs.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“And think about where you want to go.”
Halfway down the stairs, Auggie had to readjust himself; he’d never been with somebody who could toss him around the way Orlando just had, and it was having an effect.
Outside, the January weather—cold freezing the corners of his eyes, his breath exploding in white clouds—hadn’t stopped the first day of classes from getting into full swing. Students filled the quad, all of them layered in heavy winter clothing, the snow crunching under their boots. Auggie realized immediately that he’d forgotten his coat, and the cold cut through his cardigan. Going back upstairs, though, meant another round with Orlando, and the wrestler was a little too persuasive for Auggie to be comfortable with that right now. Auggie had his first class in Tether-Marfitt again, although this semester, he had Civ 2: 1500-Present. The building wasn’t far, and he could make it there without freezing to death. As he headed off across the quad, he caught a whiff of maple syrup from the dining hall, and then a stale, sour sweat smell. Somebody had been having too much fun last night and hadn’t woken up in time to shower.
With so many people on the quad, Auggie didn’t notice the sound of approaching steps until it was too late. A hand closed around his upper arm, and Auggie glanced over to see the big guy with the shaved head; a heavy coat hid his Celtic cross tattoo, and no sign remained of the broken nose Theo had given him. That had been months ago, Auggie realized distantly. Movement to the right drew his attention, and he saw the woman with the swastika tattoo on her cheek.
“Hello, August,” the big man—Jerome, Auggie remembered now—said. “Long time no see.”
“If you’re thinking about making trouble,” the woman said, “think really carefully. You can shout, sure. You can call for help. You can make a whole big deal out of it. But here’s the question you have to ask yourself: how long will it take campus security to get here? Do you think it’ll take longer than it’ll take Jerome to stomp on your head until your skull cracks?”
Auggie missed a step, and only Jerome’s hand kept him upright.
“We want it, August,” the woman said. “We want that fucking flash drive. And wherever you’ve got it, you better dig it up and hand it over. Is that clear?”
“You were in my room,” Auggie said.
Jerome jerked him to a halt at the center of the quad. Eight different paths
