until he stood behind Evan Brody and looked at the mess
he’d made of his assignment. The guy apparently knew
nothing about graphic design.
“You doing all right?” Cam said.
Evan glanced up—then looked up.
Yeah, you recognize me, Cam thought, and yeah, I see you,
Evan.
The boy sighed. “I’m not good at this.” So he did have
a voice, and what a lovely voice: a deep purr that sounded
a lot like his bike.
“Here.” Cam pulled up a chair next to him and reached
for the mouse. He shifted things around, showed him
some useful tools. “Try again.”
Evan tried to mimic Cam’s work but was a total failure.
“No. Here.” Cam put his hand on top of Evan’s on the
mouse. It was a test, not in the academic sense, and Cam
passed because Evan didn’t pull his soft, warm hand away.
He let himself be guided.
Submissive? Perfect. God almighty, this is going to be easy.
***
At Big Boy that night, Cam rushed to their usual table and
raised his hands in the air. “Evan Brody!”
“John Waters!” Rose shouted back. “What the fuck,
man?”
Cam slid in next to Eddie, who looked tired and
wrinkled from selling expensive clothes to annoying
bitches all day. “Evan Brody. The motorcycle boy from
The Rock. He’s in my class, and he sucks at graphic design.
He’ll definitely need private coaching.” He lifted his hands
to the sky. “Oh, the gods smile upon me!”
Rose chortled, and even Eddie smiled a little.
“Two weeks. I bet I have that sweet piece of ass in bed
in two weeks.”
Rose reached across the table to shake his hand. “It’s a
bet. Terms?”