The Jock - Tal Bauer Page 0,3

sun too long. His eyes were pinched, his gaze fixed on the far distance, bottom lip slightly plump, as if he wanted to pout but was holding himself in. There was a coiled tension to him, a rattler drawing tighter around itself, readying to spit and fight.

Paris’s morning glow caught on all the glass and concrete and bustle of the city. Wes could hear cars and buses and a thousand voices call out, bike chimes and tires and brakes, exhaust bellowing. Laughter. Radios, French rap and hip-hop and even Arabic music rising from the street.

At the open window, Justin, statuesque, stared out over the city like it had already disappointed him. There was something in his shoulders, in the hard line of his back.

Wes poured himself a cup of coffee from the French press next to the sink. Justin’s mug was abandoned on the counter, and he refilled it, then brought it to Justin. Held it out and smiled.

Justin started, and he looked from the coffee to Wes then back to the coffee before he smiled back. It was a slow thing, like the unfurling of a sunrise, first his eyes and his cheeks crinkling, the hints of dimples appearing, and then his eyelids fluttering before his lips parted and curled, revealing perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. “Thank you.” He cupped the mug in both hands and sipped.

Wes’s heart thump-thumped. He toasted Justin silently, and hooked one thumb in his waistband, leaning against the window frame.

With every sip, Wes’s eyes skittered sideways, sneaking glances at Justin.

“Right,” Justin finally said, straightening. He rolled his neck, stretched, and set his mug on the windowsill. “Time for class. Êtes-vous prêt à aller à l’école?”

“Oui.” Wes mirrored Justin, setting down his cup on the windowsill. He grabbed his hat from the bed, a wide-brimmed, cream cowboy hat with a cattleman’s crease, the edges turned up just the way he liked and the front tipped down to block the sun’s glare. He brought it to his chest and then tried to let Justin go first, but there was no way two grown men could squeeze into that narrow entranceway. He scooted out but turned to hold the door open for Justin with his fingertips. A flush rose on Justin’s cheeks, and he looked away as he locked their door.

They thundered downstairs, Wes’s Ropers echoing on the worn wood of the stairs. Justin held the door as they hit the street, and Wes fitted his hat on his head as he stepped into the sunshine. Parisians stopped and stared, and one or two spun all the way around.

Wes shoved his hands in his pockets and waited at the curb, near the gaggle of other university students. They, too, stared, but he saw a few startled looks of recognition. Two of the girls took him in, starting at his feet and working their way up before turning sexy smiles loose when their eyes met his.

Justin cleared his throat as he waited beside Wes, his arms once again crossed, his back to the rest of the students. “Everyone else has partnered up, and they’ve been in this group chat for months, preparing for this trip.” He shrugged. “I didn’t really decide to go on this trip until a month ago, so, I guess we’re both the late ones.”

Wes nodded. “Okay.”

“Yeah.” Justin bounced on the balls of his feet, rocked back on his heels. “I mean, if you’d rather be alone, I can—”

“No, it’s fine.” Wes spoke quickly, cutting Justin off. “It’s good.”

The bus arrived, covering whatever Justin would have said in squealing brakes and natural gas exhaust. Everyone clambered on, most heading in gaggles to the back of the bus. Justin stayed near the front, sliding into the second row next to the window. His eyes flicked to Wes as he followed, then back out the window.

Wes slid in beside Justin and set his hat in his lap. He smiled, a crook of his lips that only worked on the left side.

Justin stared at him for three long seconds.

“Do I smell?” Wes sniffed at his underarm. Deodorant running a little thin, but nothing offensive, he thought. “Do you want me to move?”

“No!” Finally, Justin smiled again. It was quick, but it was there. “No, you’re fine. You don’t smell. You just surprised me is all.”

The bus doors shut with a hiss, and with a lurch and a rattle and a shake, they were off, merging into Parisian traffic and heading across the city.

Justin flicked the brim of his

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