Read Online Sorry, Bro by Genevieve Bergeron - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Genevieve Bergeron
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for the last of the grade grubbers to finish licking Boehner’s ass with their questions.
“Angel!” Boehner said once the students had finally backed off. He threw his arms wide, inviting the kid into a hug.
It was clear Angel wanted no part of it, because he slumped his shoulders.
“Looks like you met my teaching assistant, Shane.”
Angel gave Shane a nervous glance, before dropping his gaze back to the floor. “Yeah” was his one-word answer.
“You getting settled into school? Liking your dorm?”
“Yeah. It’s fine.” Angel shrugged. His frown made it obvious it was anything but fine.
When he didn’t expand, Boehner ploughed on. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re settling in.” He pulled out a binder, and Shane recognised it as the schedule for shifts in the cage where the school kept all its film equipment. “I’m going to need you to read this, and make sure the materials we need are available whenever students need them. There are templates for sign-up sheets. Shane can help you if you need it.”
So, Angel was Boehner’s latest work-study slave. Poor him.
“Yeah. I’m around. Or you can ask the other TA.” Shane didn’t need the temptation of a way-too-cute freshman showing up during all his office hours.
“That’s good.” Boehner busied himself, packing to leave.
“Thanks.” Angel peeked down, and maybe Shane imagined it, but it seemed like Angel looked at his dick.
No fucking way Angel was gay. Not with that diamond stud in the ‘straight guy’ earlobe and his white, untied high tops. The guy probably had ‘ Exit Only’ tattooed on his ass. Still, that hooded look had been undeniable.
Shane smiled slowly, adding a wink. He watched the way Angel swallowed, like he was drinking it in.
Angel turned away. “Gotta go. ‘Nother class.” He pulled his backpack onto his shoulder and started up the stairs of the auditorium, walking so fast he practically ran.
* * * *
Oh fuck, motherfucker, fuck. Angel stormed into his freshman hall and slammed the door behind him. The students scattered, disappearing into their rooms.
Angel wiped a hand over his face, trying to scrape of the memory of that fucking film TA Shane out of his head.
The guy looked exactly how Angel would have pictured a film student—white dress shirt open at the neck, hair grown out long enough to be scruffy, black hipster glasses. Even Shane’s woven-leather necklace with the tusk hanging off should have looked queer as fuck. But it didn’t. No, with Shane’s sharp eyes and the way he carried himself, it was sexy. God help him, Angel hated to admit it, but Shane was sexy as hell.
Angel tossed his pack into his dorm room, and pulled off his shirt before heading into the showers.
He stopped in the doorway of the shared bathroom. There was a chick at the sinks. Her blonde hair was all done in some fancy blow-out and her ass was tipped up as she leaned to put on eye makeup.
Back home, the guys would think a girl like that was asking for it, hanging out in short shorts in the men’s bathroom, but the rules were all fucked up and confusing at Pacific Rim University. Chicks walked around in towels in their co-ed dorms and the guys weren’t even supposed to look at them, much less say anything about it.
“Ooh, aren’t you pretty.” The girl checked him out in the mirror’s reflection. Her voice was upper class, and kind of sarcastic. “Nice nipple ring.”
On reflex, he covered his pec. “Get out.”
“Who pissed in your latte?” The girl turned around and sat on the sink.
“This is the guy’s bathroom.”
“Yeah, and the girl’s room is disgusting.” The blonde chick rolled her eyes. “That bulimic bitch from the third floor keeps coming down here to puke. Like I care if she wants to be all ‘cry for help’”—she bent her fingers in air quotes—“but the least she could do is clean up after herself.”
The girl turned back to the mirror, messing with her lip gloss. “I’m
“Angel!” Boehner said once the students had finally backed off. He threw his arms wide, inviting the kid into a hug.
It was clear Angel wanted no part of it, because he slumped his shoulders.
“Looks like you met my teaching assistant, Shane.”
Angel gave Shane a nervous glance, before dropping his gaze back to the floor. “Yeah” was his one-word answer.
“You getting settled into school? Liking your dorm?”
“Yeah. It’s fine.” Angel shrugged. His frown made it obvious it was anything but fine.
When he didn’t expand, Boehner ploughed on. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re settling in.” He pulled out a binder, and Shane recognised it as the schedule for shifts in the cage where the school kept all its film equipment. “I’m going to need you to read this, and make sure the materials we need are available whenever students need them. There are templates for sign-up sheets. Shane can help you if you need it.”
So, Angel was Boehner’s latest work-study slave. Poor him.
“Yeah. I’m around. Or you can ask the other TA.” Shane didn’t need the temptation of a way-too-cute freshman showing up during all his office hours.
“That’s good.” Boehner busied himself, packing to leave.
“Thanks.” Angel peeked down, and maybe Shane imagined it, but it seemed like Angel looked at his dick.
No fucking way Angel was gay. Not with that diamond stud in the ‘straight guy’ earlobe and his white, untied high tops. The guy probably had ‘ Exit Only’ tattooed on his ass. Still, that hooded look had been undeniable.
Shane smiled slowly, adding a wink. He watched the way Angel swallowed, like he was drinking it in.
Angel turned away. “Gotta go. ‘Nother class.” He pulled his backpack onto his shoulder and started up the stairs of the auditorium, walking so fast he practically ran.
* * * *
Oh fuck, motherfucker, fuck. Angel stormed into his freshman hall and slammed the door behind him. The students scattered, disappearing into their rooms.
Angel wiped a hand over his face, trying to scrape of the memory of that fucking film TA Shane out of his head.
The guy looked exactly how Angel would have pictured a film student—white dress shirt open at the neck, hair grown out long enough to be scruffy, black hipster glasses. Even Shane’s woven-leather necklace with the tusk hanging off should have looked queer as fuck. But it didn’t. No, with Shane’s sharp eyes and the way he carried himself, it was sexy. God help him, Angel hated to admit it, but Shane was sexy as hell.
Angel tossed his pack into his dorm room, and pulled off his shirt before heading into the showers.
He stopped in the doorway of the shared bathroom. There was a chick at the sinks. Her blonde hair was all done in some fancy blow-out and her ass was tipped up as she leaned to put on eye makeup.
Back home, the guys would think a girl like that was asking for it, hanging out in short shorts in the men’s bathroom, but the rules were all fucked up and confusing at Pacific Rim University. Chicks walked around in towels in their co-ed dorms and the guys weren’t even supposed to look at them, much less say anything about it.
“Ooh, aren’t you pretty.” The girl checked him out in the mirror’s reflection. Her voice was upper class, and kind of sarcastic. “Nice nipple ring.”
On reflex, he covered his pec. “Get out.”
“Who pissed in your latte?” The girl turned around and sat on the sink.
“This is the guy’s bathroom.”
“Yeah, and the girl’s room is disgusting.” The blonde chick rolled her eyes. “That bulimic bitch from the third floor keeps coming down here to puke. Like I care if she wants to be all ‘cry for help’”—she bent her fingers in air quotes—“but the least she could do is clean up after herself.”
The girl turned back to the mirror, messing with her lip gloss. “I’m
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