You get ready and on the road!

You’re still warm from the shower when you step back into the room, towel hanging from your shoulders and your hair damp enough that it keeps falling into your eyes. Jamal is already dressed in loose athletic shorts and a tank top, scrolling through something on his phone with that low, amused smirk that always makes your chest feel weird.

He glances up when he hears you.

“Finally. Took you long enough,” he teases, eyes sweeping over your pale clean skin in a way that’s casual, but definitely not accidentally casual.

You ignore the flutter in your stomach.

“I was fast,” you mutter, rummaging through your drawers for clothes for the ride over.

“You were moaning in your sleep,” he says, not accusing, not even mocking. More like he’s just… delivering information because he can.

Your whole body locks up.

“I... what? No, I wasn’t.”

“Sure, white boy,” he says, raising an eyebrow as he sets his phone down. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. Or…, you know, during it.”

You feel heat climb up your neck. You want to sink into the floor. You definitely do not want to think about the dream you had, flashes of warm hands, dark skin against sunlight, the weight of someone or something hard pressing against you from behind and all those deep voices praising you. You swallow hard.

Jamal stretches, arms lifting above his head and showing off the carved lines of his dark skinned torso beneath the fabric.

“Anyway,” he says, voice thick with amusement, “we gotta head out soon. Sarah wants us there early to help set things up.”

“Right,” you say. Your voice cracks a little. He pretends not to notice, but there’s a slight smirk on his lips telling you he definitely did.

You pull on your clothes for the walk over, one pair of jeans and a fitting t-shirt you bought at the mall. The jeans fit perfectly around your legs and butt, framing the thick curves of your body. You instantly felt Jamals dark eyes on you, as if he was checking out how good you looked in those pants and your heart was pounding harder than it should.

While you tie your shoes, Jamal steps up behind you to reach something from his desk and his bulging crotch brushes lightly against the back of your head. Enough that you can clearly feel his clothed flesh hit you. He doesn’t apologize or pull away quickly. He just lets it happen and you may not know it yet, but this was definitely intentional.

Your chest tightens.

When you finally stand, Jamal gives you one long, approving look.

“Lookimg good white boy, you ready?”

You nod, though you feel anything but ready.

You grab the bag with your swimming clothes and he opens the door for you, his hand resting briefly on your lower back as you walk past him, not pushing, not grabbing, but steady, guiding and very warm.

You pretend the gesture did not faze you, but him being this touchy with you makes your body hot allover.

The campus definitely looks different today, it was quieter, like the whole world is holding its breath waiting for the end-of-summer heat to spike. Some remnants of yesterday's club fair are still standing, but besides that everything is back to normal. Jamal walks beside you, hands in his pockets, looking relaxed and annoyingly good as always. His masculine face is perfectly framed by the sun and his short black hair.

“You nervous?” he asks softly. The way Jamal switches between these kind moments and those more dominant, teasing ones, is something you still have to get used to.

You shrug trying to be nonchalant, but he doesn’t buy it. He bumps your shoulder.

“come on Emile, you know what I'm talking about”

“You mean the party?”

You ask, trying your best to sound confident.

“About the swimsuit, obviously” he says, with a small chuckle.

You are taken aback by how he can just ask stuff like that and you just stammer out.

“Oh yeah, that... I don't know, I just hope i won't get strange comments and all that.”

His eyes soften in a way that makes something melt in your chest.

“Emile,” he says slowly, as if tasting the name, “you’re gonna look insane in that thing. People are gonna lose their minds over you.”

“That’s not helping,” you mutter, covering your face with your hand.

“It should,” he laughs. “You’re hot, you really need to accept that.” The casual way he just compliments you makes your chest do things that you can't describe.

“I’m not... I mean, I’m not into... I’m not... gay,” you blurt out again. “Like I told you before.”

You don’t even know why you keep saying it. Instinct? Habit? Fear?

Jamal looks at you with a knowing smirk.

“Sure,” he says lightly. “Totally straight. Definitely.”

You glare. “how many times do I have to repeat it? I am!”

“Mm-hmm.”

He nudges you again.

“If you say so.”

You want to punch him, but you also want to melt into him. Both are equally terrifying.

“Relax,” he says, bumping your arm. “You blush like crazy, you know that?”

You glare at the ground and walk faster. He catches up effortlessly.

“Hey,” he says gently. “Don’t overthink today. Just have fun. I’m not letting anyone mess with you.”

You look up at him. He’s smiling, real, warm, protective in a way that hits you deeper than it should.

“Okay,” you say softly.

“Good,” he murmurs.

With that said, the two of you reach his car and he gets you on the road to Sarah's place.