Nope!

You want to, but before you can say anything about it, she waves you inside and you have to follow her and Jamal into that big building.

“Come on, come on. Trent and Justin are in the back. Dior and Taylor too, they came early to help set things up.”

Stepping into the foyer feels like stepping into grande a museum, the ceilings were tall, the floors made out of marble, there was a big chandelier with bright stones hanging from it and twin staircases curling up like something from a castle.

There are art pieces, sculptures and a a few vases that probably cost more than your tuition. Everything is too big and too polished it felt kind of fake in a way.

“Is this... normal for her?” you whisper to Jamal.

“Yeah,” he says. “Like I said, rich white girl life.”

You catch him glancing sideways at you, amused at how wide your eyes are.

Sarah leads you past the foyer and down a hallway that looks designed to echo footsteps. You glance into rooms as you pass a living room that was bigger than your entire dorm floor, a home library with what seems like two floors and a dining room with a table long enough to seat at least twenty men.

On your way trough the house you see that one door is open halfway and you can't help but catch a glimpse of the bedroom that was hiding behind the door. As you look inside, your brain stutters for a moment.

Because the bed is made, but covered with dozens of red rose petals. Like actual rose petals. The room was dimmed in soft colored lighting and had sheer curtains. There was also a bottle of something chilled in a silver bucket on the side table and what looked like a plastic bottle and some other plastic stuff on the bedside table.

The room feels kind of strange to you, however you can't really put your finger on it. But you had to get going, so you blink and keep walking dince the two are almost at the end of the hallway by now.

Finally, the hallway opens into a huge kitchen, marble everywhere and an island so big four people could nap on it. There are counters loaded with snacks, fresh fruit and drinks lined up in neat rows. The back doors are open, letting the warm breeze in.

As you look out on the patio, you can see the others.

Trent is leaning against a railing, dark, curly hair tied back today, shirt already off. His dark skin and lean swimmer muscles catch the light, making his skin almost look golden. He has broad shoulders, a narrow waist and a chest defined enough to look carved but not bulky, the kind of body that looks both effortless and dangerously disciplined. His long torso flexes slightly as he lifts a hand to wave, the prominenr line of a V disappearing into dangerously low-hung swim shorts, that look like they were meant to slip off any moment.

Taylor is carrying a stack of folded towels, the muscles in his pale arms and stomach shifting as he moves. The thin almost strap like lines of his tiny, extremely tight swim shorts, look like they could snap with just one tug. They cling to him with almost athletic precision, outlining the firmness of his thighs and the curve of his surprisingly full ass, an ass he’s definitely proud of, if you look at the way he sways and presents it as he moves.

In the front pouch there is almost nothing to see, but a seemingly angular package, which confuses you, since you saw a similar shape in Justin's underwear when you were in thr mall changingroom.

But his bright grin distracts you from your thoughts, as he throws you an enthusiastic wave that makes the towels wobble.

Dior stands near the outdoor bar, arranging drinks. His dark skinned body is exactly what you’d expect from a football player, thick neck, huge shoulders, chest like a wall and arms that make the sleeves of most shirts beg for mercy.

His swim trunks aren’t exactly modest either, stretching over thighs that look like they were grown in a weight room. They also had a very prominent bulge that makes you think back to how you yourself never had one, even when you wear those tight underwear.

He looks up and his whole face sparks in recognition.

Justin is at the counter, quietly slicing limes. He’s wearing a pair of very short, form-fitting trunks that cling to his lean frame. They are showing off the gentle definition in his stomach and the soft but noticeable curve of his own thick butt, even though you saw it a few days ago, it was definitely rounder than you remembered, honestly. Just like in the mall changing room and like Taylor has, Justin again had that small unmistakable angular shape in the front of his swim trunks. You still have no idea what that is, but this is going to be a long day, maybe you can ask one of them. But it was strange none the less.

His posture is shy, almost hiding behind the cutting board as if the limes can shield him from attention.

“Yo! Look who finally showed!” Trent shouts, waving with a charming smile.

“Eyo!” Dior calls, bright.

Justin smiles shyly, cheeks already pink, but you have no idea why he reacts that way.

Their friendliness hits you so fast and warm that your shoulders automatically loosen. Something in your chest unclenches without asking permission.

Jamal bumps his shoulder against yours, gentle, but confident, like he’s saying without words:

See? Told you.

And maybe for the first time today, you actually believe him.