Poster Boy

  Riptide Publishing

  PO Box 6652

  Hillsborough, NJ 08844

  http://www.riptidepublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Poster Boy (Theta Alpha Gamma, #5)

  Copyright © 2014 by Anne Tenino

  Cover Art by L.C. Chase, http://lcchase.com/design.htm

  Editors: Sarah Frantz and Rachel Haimowitz

  Layout: L.C. Chase, http://lcchase.com/design.htm

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Riptide Publishing at the mailing address above, at Riptidepublishing.com, or at marketing@riptidepublishing.com.

  ISBN: 978-1-62649-130-4

  First edition

  April, 2014

  Also available in paperback:

  ISBN: 978-1-62649-131-1

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  It’s all fun and games until someone puts his heart out.

  After being outed to his hockey team and then changing schools, Jock figures he’s due for something good—like the sex he missed out on in the closet. Toby, the hot grad student he meets at a frat party, seems like a great place to start, and their night together is an awesome introduction to the fine art of hooking up.

  Toby’s heart takes a bruising after the near-perfect experience with Jock leads to . . . nothing. He’s been left on the outside as his friends pair up into blissful coupledom, and he’s in danger of never completing (or starting) his thesis. Can’t something go right?

  Then Toby’s coerced into chaperoning a Theta Alpha Gamma trip to France. Not that he’s complaining. What better place to finish his thesis and get over that frat boy? Except Jock’s outing is leaked to the press, turning him into an unwilling gay rights martyr, and he decides France would be a great escape, too. It’s a break from reality for both guys, but they soon find their connection is as real as it gets.

  For all the Gavins I’ve known.

  About Poster Boy

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Anne Tenino

  About the Author

  Enjoy this Book?

  “So . . .” Toby began, balancing his beer cap on the side of his index finger before flicking it toward the trash can with his thumb. The idea was to get the thing in the garbage, but he failed. Failure was totally his oeuvre lately. “What’s the gossip?”

  “You’d better clean that up,” Sebastian said. “Brad won’t appreciate it if he finds it on the floor.”

  As Toby picked up his offensive litter, he couldn’t help the small snipe that slipped out: “He’s got you trained well, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, he does,” Sebastian agreed mildly.

  “Sorry.” Toby returned to rest his butt on the kitchen counter next to his friend’s. “That was uncalled for.”

  “It seemed a bit out of character for you.” Sebastian tipped his bottle up for a swallow, eyes on the social activity in his kitchen. “I was under the impression you approved of my relationship with him.”

  “You know I do. I’ve just been feeling . . .” Left out. “On edge lately.”

  “Your thesis isn’t coming along well?”

  Gah. Thesis. Shudder. “What would make you think that?” Had Sebastian been spying on him? With as much time as the dude spent working on his thesis, it would seem impossible for him to keep tabs on Toby.

  “Because you avoid the subject at all costs.”

  It was only circumstantial evidence, but Toby didn’t bother trying to refute it. “I’ll have you know I sometimes lie awake half the night worrying about writing my thesis.” Not much of a defense, but he couldn’t help it—the writing of a thesis took inspiration, and lately he’d been feeling uninspired.

  Clearly, lack of motivation wasn’t a problem for Sebastian or their friend Paul. The few times he’d hung out with them this academic year, Toby’d seen how obsessed they were with finishing their master’s degrees and immediately got hung up in worrying about how obsessed he wasn’t. If they weren’t so busy with their research already, he might have had to actively avoid them.

  “Are you considering not finishing?” Sebastian asked, eyebrows inquiringly high.

  Toby sighed. “I’m not going to drop out, I’m just . . . reevaluating my research so as to find the proper stimulus.”

  “Procrastinating.” Sebastian nodded. “I see. Do you even want your master’s?”

  “I don’t know.” He rubbed his forehead, trying to massage out a better answer. “I’m getting the degree for the usual reason: out of a sense of obligation to my mother.”

  “You certainly fooled me,” Sebastian mused. “Up until this term, I thought you were getting the education for its own sake.”

  “Nope, just an overdeveloped sense of duty.” He had wanted the education, though. When he’d been in Tarragona last summer, studying the basilica his thesis focused on, he’d been certain he’d tear through this last task. But once the school year began and he didn’t have the structure of a regular class load—either teaching or attending—he’d somehow found it harder to work on the thing. He’d barely managed a defensible thesis statement, and he certainly hadn’t managed to start defending it. “Actually, I was interested, but for some reason, having to prove the depth of my knowledge is, I don’t know, chafing now. So chafing, in fact,” he continued, turning to his friend, “that I’m going to change the subject. What have you heard recently about Theta Alpha Gamma House?”

  Sebastian quirked his lips in that amused way he had. “You don’t want to go ask one of the frat boys currently in my living room?”

  “No.” Toby waved the suggestion off. “You know how they are—they’re happy to come to these parties you and Brad have and drink the free booze, but the fratbros prefer this amicable separate-but-equal layout. TAG boys in the living room, gay boys in here.”

  “Oh, they like to preserve the separatio
n, do they?”

  Toby decided to assume that was a rhetorical question.

  “It’s not entirely segregated,” Sebastian pointed out. “Some of the fratkind have ventured onto our savannah, if you’ll notice. Kyle, for instance.” He gestured toward the Theta Alpha Gamma president in the opposite corner of the kitchen. Kyle was talking to two other TAG brothers, but one of them was Sebastian’s own boyfriend, Brad, who had the distinction of being both gay and a frat boy, therefore multiethnic, and possibly trans-species. Not to mention the catalyst for this weird social mix of frat boys and gay guys that had sprung up—somewhat like a fairy ring—on the Calapooya College campus.

  “In spite of their accepting ways and their token gays, those frat boys are still most comfortable when we keep our distance. They’ll appreciate me getting my information from you, and God knows I’d prefer it.”

  Sebastian tilted his head to one side, regarding Toby for a moment. “So what do you want to know?”

  “Oh, tell me about the whole darned fratastrophe.”

  Sebastian snorted a laugh. “Nice neologism.”

  “Why thank you. I’ve been looking for an opportunity to use it.” Toby offered up his smuggest smile and rewarded himself with a swig of beer. “Actually, I’m up-to-date on the initial events. Collin stayed with me after the fire, and I was with him when Kyle called about the bomb the following morning. I just haven’t heard much since.”

  It was the subsequent investigation he had no clue about. The things that had happened after Collin, his last single friend—the last guy who didn’t immediately think about his partner when Toby called to see if he wanted to hang out—had defected and gone over to the dark side. Joined the ranks of the leg-shackled. Fallen in love and renounced the single life.

  Gotten himself a boyfriend, in other words. The fact that they’d had a friends-with-benefits agreement only added to Toby’s sense of loss. Not a major loss—Toby hadn’t been in love with the dude—but the loss of a good friend.

  “Well,” Sebastian said, reminding Toby they were in the middle of a conversation. “I suppose you know they’re still investigating whether the fire was set by the same perpetrator who planted the bomb.”

  “That’s more than I’ve heard,” he responded, the words slipping out before he could stop them. Not that they were horrible words, they simply sounded a little bitter. Or forlorn. Or utterly uninformed. “Do they have any idea of a motive yet?” It was the first question that popped into his head. He was all about changing the subject—or at least diverting attention from his lackluster mood—tonight.

  “The current theory”—Sebastian gestured with his beer bottle—“is that TAG was targeted because of that new, gay-friendly membership policy.”

  Toby stopped mid-drink to ask, “Really?” Although why was he surprised? History was full of people persecuting others for being queer or otherwise different.

  Sebastian’s smile went sour, twisting down. “It’s Collin’s uncle’s theory, as it turns out. He’s president of the TAG alumni association and fought the policy change in the first place.”

  “He’d have a stroke if Collin came out.” He knew all about Uncle Monty. The guy had his nephew totally under his thumb.

  “Actually . . .” Sebastian held up a “point of order” finger. “As of Wednesday night, Collin is out. Not to his uncle, only the frat, yet still.”

  Okay, that did it. Toby had been officially disenfranchised. He understood it; in the past, when he’d been in relationships, he’d done it unintentionally. But until this point in his life, he’d never felt quite so outside of things. It all left him feeling like the boy who couldn’t swim, so pretended he had something else to do while his friends all went to the pool.

  Thank God he was a generally optimistic person, because otherwise this might really be getting him down.

  He pulled out of his musings at the end of Sebastian’s explanation of Collin’s big reveal to the frat brothers. “Unintentionally, Tank outed him, but the only one who was surprised was Collin when he found out all the guys knew already.”

  “Tank did it, huh? Interesting . . .” Tank was one of the TAG members truly comfortable with the gay boys. He’d even been in the kitchen earlier, socializing. Maybe it was because he was so utterly alpha male he didn’t feel threatened. “Collin did hang out with me quite often. It might have given the fratbros a clue.” Well, that and the dude was one of those guys who had to work at being butch.

  “Collin and Eric first got together the night of the bombing, am I correct?”

  “Yeah.” Toby took a swig from his beer, forcing himself to relax a couple of mysteriously tense muscles. Eric was clearly a better match for Collin than Toby had ever been, or ever thought to be. His convenient-sex relationship with his friend had died a natural death the night before, anyway; when Collin had come over to Toby’s place looking for “comfort,” it had become apparent very quickly that the coddling he needed had more to do with cuddling than with copulating.

  “If I were a more sentimental sort,” Sebastian mused, eyes trained across the room on his boyfriend, “I might find the way they got together romantic.”

  “I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you, but you’ve become the sentimental sort.”

  Sebastian didn’t try to deny it; instead he smiled as if he found himself amusing. “I have, haven’t I? To be honest, I recommend it.”

  Toby chugged the rest of his beer before answering. “Well, I believe we’ve seen the last of the single gay frat boys. Guess I’m screwed.”

  “I meant I recommend a relationship.” Sebastian took his eyes off of Brad for the first time in minutes and tilted his head toward Toby. “But since you brought it up, TAG has acquired another gay frat boy—Tank’s ‘little’ brother.”

  Toby pictured the huge—albeit perfectly muscled—TAG member in question. “How little could a brother of Tank’s be?”

  “Not very. Although he is shorter than him.”

  Which could still make him tall enough to have to duck under doorjambs. “Is he as beefcake-calendar-worthy as his big brother?”

  “Why yes, he is.” Sebastian smirked. “He’s also newly out.”

  “Mmmmm.” Toby rocked back on his heels, thinking. Maybe this new frat boy would be interested in some explorations of the sexual kind.

  “He’s possibly even virginal,” Sebastian added with a gleam in his eye. They knew each other’s proclivities well, after all. “Although not totally inexperienced. I know you have that predilection for the innocent young things.”

  “You make me sound like a pedophile. And how do you know he’s not totally inexperienced?”

  Sebastian’s playful amusement melted away. “Brad made me promise not to spread it, but the guy had a traumatic coming out. He was a starter on the Avalon College hockey team, and his coach received some irrefutable evidence of the guy’s orientation and kicked him off the team. He transferred to Calapooya a week into the term.”

  “Well that utterly sucks,” Toby muttered.

  Sebastian hmmmed an agreement, and they spent a silent minute or two letting the party happen around them while contemplating the unfairness of life.

  At least, that’s what Toby was doing. Feeling sympathy and that other thing that often came along with it, sinking into his chest, hooking him like a hungry fish. Interest. Not necessarily attraction—he hadn’t even seen the kid (although if he was Tank’s brother, there was a better than average chance he was good-looking)—but the combination of inexperience and personal distress got him every time. He was a sucker for a guy who needed some comfort. And Sebastian knew it.

  He sighed. Not in resignation, more in acceptance of his nature. “I’m probably going to take one look at him and want him, aren’t I?”

  Sebastian’s amused smirk had returned. “I’d lay money on it.”

  “This party is kind of a sausage fest,” one of Jock’s new frat brothers said to another. Jock squinted up at them from the chair he’d cl
aimed in Brad’s living room and tried to remember their names. The dude on the left was easy—it was Jules, the TAG secretary. But the other guy . . . either Turbo or Flounder. He didn’t have them straightened out yet.

  “You must feel right at home,” Turbo/Flounder said to Jules, cluing Jock in. Definitely Turbo—only a week at the frat and Jock had already figured out that guy liked to mess with Julian.

  “Oh, uh . . .” Jock waited to hear what weak comeback Jules would come up with. “No offense.”

  Oh yeah, totally lame. Didn’t even make sense. Neither did the way he was looking at Jock . . . Unless the “no offense” comment had been directed at him?

  “You know,” Jules fumbled, obviously speaking to Jock, now. “There’s nothing wrong with, well, sausage fests. I mean, you know, parties where there are lots of penises. Um . . .” He turned bright red while Jock just stared at him.

  “Why would I be offended by that?” Jock finally asked. He had to say something, because he knew how easy it was to intimidate with a stare. He’d honed it to instinct at this point, and Jules’s fidgeting was a sure sign that Jock was glaring at him like an opposing teammate.

  Turbo shifted, clearing his throat. “Ignore him, man. He’s just freaking because you’re gay and he thinks he needs to treat you differently or something. You know, ‘be sensitive.’”

  Jock should probably be appreciative that Turbo at least tried not to be a dork, too, but the flare of annoyance in his gut wouldn’t let him shut up. “You guys can stop being all careful around me anytime now.”

  “It’s not because you’re gay,” Jules protested, throwing a glare Turbo’s way before turning back to Jock. “It’s what you went through because you’re gay.”

  Fuck me. Jock rubbed at the throbbing that had started in his temple. “Seriously, can we not talk about it?” Maybe playing on their delicate fucking sensitivities would shut Jules up.

  “Oh, yeah, totally.” Jules assured him, waving his palm in Jock’s face. “We can not talk about it ever. I mean, we want you to be comfortable, you know? And if not talking about what happened makes you comfortable, we can not mention it, like, forever.”