The Geek and His Artist (5 page)

His geek shoved the books into a ratty backpack and turned toward the door. But he stopped, surprise widening his eyes, and then a smile spread slowly.

Simon couldn’t have stopped his own for anything. He lifted his hand and waved, and his geek waved back.
Do it! Move! Go say hi!
But no matter how much he told his feet to move, they stayed rooted to the spot.

His geek shifted, like he was going to head toward Simon, but before he could go so much as two steps, his cell phone rang. His geek scrambled to silence it, got a pained look on his face, and slid his thumb over the screen. He shot an apologetic look toward Simon, then said, exasperation obvious, “Yes, Mom. I’m coming right out.” He shoved the phone into his pocket, then looked over at Simon again. “See you,” he murmured, then nearly ran out the door.

Simon stared after him in shock. His geek had talked to him. Okay, it was two words, but he’d talked. He pulled himself together, remembering he still had work to do, and wandered, still in a bit of a daze, to the shelf he needed. He knew what his geek’s voice sounded like, had heard it clearly. It was deep, rich, and had gone straight to Simon’s cock.

Simon sighed. He had a feeling he’d be using a lot of lotion later that night.

S
IMON
FROWNED
down at the grade report in his hand, trying—again—to figure out what he was going to do about his trig grade. His feeling had been right: he’d bombed the fall semester for the class. He shouldn’t have taken it in the first place—he didn’t
need
it for college—but he had and now he had a D+ to show for it. He could drop the class, but if he did, then the D+ would stay on his transcript. Not the end of the world, but he really didn’t like what it would do to his GPA.

His only other option was to see about getting some tutoring to try to bring that grade up, since his solo attempts hadn’t done much at all for him. He’d been fine with algebra, geometry, and even algebra II. So when he’d signed up for trig, he’d expected he could handle it. Little did he know that trigonometry was a completely foreign language from the others.

The Bastard was going to kill him for being late, but Simon would just have to deal with it, and if he was lucky, he could still make it home in time to cook. He needed the good grades for financial aid.

He sighed, folded the paper back up, and stuffed it into his backpack, then pulled the door to his school library open. He paused just inside the door and looked around, but didn’t readily see anything set up as a tutoring center. The library itself wasn’t big, the bookshelves reaching the ceiling and crammed into just about every available space. After giving himself a moment to make sure he didn’t see it, he moved over to the desk.

A large, older woman in a polka-dotted dress, with steel-gray hair and glasses with blue plastic frames that curved up to points in the corners, stood at a computer, checking in books. Simon guessed she was the librarian. He hadn’t had much need to come into the school library yet, so he hadn’t seen her before. He waited for a couple of minutes, but when she didn’t even seem to see him, he leaned on the counter and cleared his throat.

Her head whipped around. “Oh! I am so sorry, deary. I didn’t notice you there.” She stepped closer and smiled widely. “You’re so quiet! Most of the boys in here make so much noise. How may I help you?”

Simon found himself returning her smile. She reminded him of all those grandmothers he’d seen in just about every movie ever, and he found himself wondering if that’s what a real grandmother was like. He had no idea what his had been like since he hadn’t met them before they died. He shook the thought off. “I’m sorry. I was looking for the tutoring center?”

“Don’t worry, dear,” she said, patting his hand. “It’s over there. Kind of hidden, I’m afraid. One of the tutors is there now.” She pointed toward an enclosed room on the other side of the main library area, the door the only thing showing among the stacks. When he peered closer, he saw the walls above the bookshelves and now could tell it was its own room.

Simon thanked her, she patted his hand again, and he crossed to the door, hoping against hope that whoever the tutor was wouldn’t be an ass. He knew some of them did it for their community service requirements—Simon still had to figure out what he was going to do—and not because they wanted to actually help.

When he stepped through the door and looked around, he saw one person—obviously male, by the breadth of the back—hunched over a table. To his left a clipboard sat on the short counter, asking for name, subject, and date, which Simon filled out, then looked back at the tutor.

And stopped dead, staring.

It was his geek.

He’d avoided lunch that day, instead sitting in a quiet corner near his locker. In the eight days since he’d seen his geek, he’d realized he’d been imagining things. He was convinced he’d blown the smiles out of proportion, turning them into way more than they really were.

As he stared at his geek now, he
felt
the blood drain from his face. His geek stared back at him, looking almost as pale as he felt.
Why would he do that? Oh shit! He knows I’ve been watching him! He thinks I’m stalking him! He’s probably pissed!

Simon was working himself into a thorough panic as he stood there. He needed to move, wanted to turn around and flee. He wondered hysterically if Timbuktu would be far enough.
Probably not
. It didn’t seem to matter. He couldn’t move; his feet seemed anchored to the spot. “Uh….”
Brilliant. Really fucking brilliant, Simon!

“Hi.” The deep voice sounded a little trembly, and Simon wondered at that. That didn’t sound like someone who was pissed.

It was just enough to ground him a little. “Hi.”
Holy shit! Get a hold of yourself. It’s just hi, for fuck’s sake. You’re a grown man, act like it!
Simon cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “I’m here for tutoring. Are… uh… are you the tutor?”

His geek smiled, and Simon felt it all the way down to his toes. It was even wider and more beautiful than the one at McDonald’s or the one at the public library, and if Simon wasn’t careful, he’d end up needing to adjust himself. “Yes. Do you need tutoring? What subject?”

“Uh… unfortunately.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “Trig. Shouldn’t have taken it, but if I drop it now….”

He nodded. “It’ll fuck up your GPA.” He winced. “Sorry, screw it up.”

Simon laughed. “My language is horrible, don’t worry about it. So, uh, can you help?”

His geek nodded. “Yeah, come on over. Oh, uh, Jimmy,” he said, holding out his hand.

Simon would
not
panic at the idea of touching his geek—
Jimmy! I have his name!—
but he wanted to. Despite the surprise—he couldn’t remember Kip, Tony, or Deck shaking his hand when they met—he crossed the room and took Jimmy’s hand. Even with his best attempts, his eyes slid closed because it felt fucking
amazing
. He remembered himself quickly, though, and opened his eyes again, smiling a little nervously. “Uh, Simon. Simon Williams.”

“Jimmy Bennet. It’s… really nice to meet you, Simon.”

Simon blinked at Jimmy for a long moment.
He doesn’t mean it like that! Get a
grip
on yourself!
Simon shook the thought off and smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.” He moved around the table, sitting so Jimmy was to his right—and by his good ear—and set his bag down.

Jimmy was watching him, and Simon wished he knew what Jimmy was thinking. He simply looked interested, which Simon couldn’t seem to reconcile in his head. He’d been honest when he told Kip he didn’t think his geek could want him. Yeah, he’d finally been willing to admit it was likely that his geek was gay. His school wasn’t tiny, so it was likely there were other gay or bi students, but he wasn’t deluded enough to think the one he’d been eyeing for so long would want him back. He shook the thought off when Jimmy spoke.

“So, let’s see where you are and where you might need help. Sound good?”

Simon nodded and pulled out his trig book. “Okay, sure.”

T
WO
HOURS
later, the librarian poked her head into the room. “Are you boys planning to sit in here all night?”

Simon looked down at his watch and cursed. He hadn’t expected to spend so long at the tutoring center. He’d missed the first city bus, and there was no way he could get to the stop in time to catch the next one. The one beyond that wasn’t for another hour, which meant The Bastard wasn’t just going to be pissed, there’d be full-on holy hell when he got home.

“Sorry, Mrs. Jacobs. We’ll pack up.” Jimmy looked at him. “Will you be back tomorrow?”

Simon blinked, then looked down at his book. He wanted to. He hadn’t spent a more enjoyable two hours studying before in his
life
. And they had studied; Jimmy had more or less kept them on track the whole two hours. Simon already had a better handle on his trig than he’d had all year.

But if The Bastard threw too much of a fit, there’d be no possibility he’d get away with staying out late another day. If things didn’t get thrown, Simon would be denied at least dinner. “I… I don’t know. This has helped a lot, though. I’ll see?”

Jimmy looked disappointed, which did good things for Simon’s insides. Despite his insistence that Jimmy couldn’t possibly be interested in him, Simon wasn’t a complete social moron. He hadn’t missed Jimmy brushing his hand or the fact that they’d been much closer than strictly necessary for tutoring. And Simon hadn’t been the one to do it.

Could his geek really be interested in him too?

“I’m sure more tutoring could only help, make the rest of this semester go easier for you, if nothing else.”

Jimmy’s tone sounded very modulated, but with the earlier disappointment, Simon decided at least a little truth wouldn’t hurt. “I—It depends on what Th—my father says. He doesn’t like it when I’m out late.”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “Even for tutoring? It’s good for your grades!”

“He doesn’t give a fuck about my grades,” Simon muttered before he could stop himself.

Jimmy blinked at him. “How could he not care?”

Simon forced a smile. “It’s, uh, just not how he is. I appreciate the thought. I’ll try to come back tomorrow. It
would
help.” Simon got up, scrambling to get his books before he was tempted to spill a lot more than he should. It seemed it was too easy to talk around Jimmy, and Simon didn’t need to let his bullshit out. That would be one surefire way of getting Jimmy to run, far and fast.

Jimmy looked shocked, and it wasn’t until Simon had his backpack zipped that Jimmy stood. “I… uh….” He cleared his throat, and the color on Jimmy’s cheeks stopped Simon more than anything else. “I’d like to see you again.”

Simon blinked at him, a little puzzled.
Didn’t I just say I’d try to come back?
“Uh, I’ll try, you know, to stay for—”

“I don’t mean for tutoring.” It looked like those five words had taken an incredible amount of effort to say.

“Oh.”
Eloquent, dork.
“Um….”

“Maybe… maybe we could just, uh, sit together at lunch and talk?”

Simon blinked again, then nodded slowly, smiling. “I’d like that.”

“Good. Okay. I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow, then.” Jimmy’s smile dazzled Simon a bit before he could pull himself together.

“Okay, see you then.” He raised his hand in a half wave and escaped before he did something he’d regret.

S
IMON
DIDN
’
T
realize how warm his face was until the biting January cold hit his skin. He put a hand on one cheek and felt it burning. He realized he must have looked like a complete idiot to Jimmy.

Simon shook his head and walked down the sidewalk toward the bus stop. He had a name. He’d spent two hours with the guy. If he never saw Jimmy again, he’d have masturbation fodder for a
year
.

He flopped down onto the cold metal bench and leaned his head back, sighing. He should pull his trig book out and go over the stuff he and Jimmy had talked about, but his mind was firmly off sine, tangent, and cosine and firmly on the man he’d been surreptitiously watching.

Up close, those hands had looked even stronger, and before he could stop himself, one of his favorite fantasies involving his geek—he didn’t want to stop thinking of Jimmy like that, rather liked the idea of Jimmy being
his
in some way—had popped into his head. The imagined feel of those strong hands on his naked skin had him sitting very uncomfortably in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

That embarrassment kicked up about a thousand notches when a battered silver Kia pulled up at the bus stop and one of the windows rolled down and Jimmy leaned through. “Hey, do you need a ride?”

Simon’s cheeks had cooled in the frigid air but now were back to hot, having been pulled forcibly from his fantasy by the object of said fantasy. He managed to shake his head. “No, that’s okay. The bus should be here soon.” He hoped Jimmy didn’t hear the lie in his voice.

Jimmy made a face, shaking his head. “No reason for you to take the bus. Come on.” And without an answer, he climbed out of the car and opened the back door, leaving the front passenger door open while he sat in the backseat, making it almost impossible for Simon to refuse.

With no real choice if he didn’t want to annoy or piss off his geek, he got into the car and looked over to see a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Jimmy, with soft brown hair, beautiful blue eyes, and a dimpled smile. “Hello, I’m Jimmy’s mom. Call me Mom, the rest of his friends do.”

“That’s Simon and he’s quiet, so don’t freak him out too badly, Mom,” Jimmy said from the backseat.

“Uh, hello, Mrs.… uh, M-Mom.” The word felt strange and foreign on his tongue after so long.

“Not ‘Mrs. Mom,’” Jimmy’s mom said, grinning. “Just ‘Mom.’”