Cam was a teacher’ s assistant at Phoenix College, getting his Master’ s in computer technology. He was the most unlikely of computer nerds, but he found sitting in front of a glowing monitor soothing: his city version of sitting around the campfire stoned.
He assisted one of his favorite professors that semester, Lisa Franklin: a tall, super smart dyke who was married to a much younger woman with twins. She told Cam her story once, how she left her husband when she realized she liked breasts and never wanted to see a penis again. Too bad her twins were both boys.
First day of the semester, Cam held the attendance sheet in his hand: one of his many bitch jobs, done without complaint since the bitch jobs helped pay for his continued education. When Evan walked in, silver helmet in hand, people turned to look. Even with his black hair flattened in the back, his too long bangs in his eyes, girls turned red and probably flooded their seats. The guy was just that hot.
Cam couldn’ t believe his luck. He ushered a broad grin into the back of his mouth and rolled his tongue around instead.
He took attendance, and when he called the name“ Evan Brody,” the guy— his guy— raised his hand and pushed black hair off his forehead and didn’ t say a word. Cam had the name, and he said it in his head while Lisa went over the syllabus. Evan Brody. Evan Brody. Ev-an. Felt good on Cam’ s tongue. Lisa gave them a quick assignment to fill the rest of class: some basic shit with CAD. Something about building 3-D shapes, and“ Cam, why don’ t you walk around and help anyone who needs it?”
He did wide circles at first between the rows of computer screens. Then, he closed his circle and closed it