Out in the Offense Read Online Lane Hayes (Out in College #3)

Categories Genre: Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, New Adult, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Out in College Series by Lane Hayes
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Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
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“Right,” I replied primly. “Should we get started?”

“Hold up. We’ve got to clear the air here. It’s like I told you the other day, you won’t retain anything until you relax. So let’s see…you wanted to know about Spanish and wrestling, am I correct?”

“It’s not important.”

“Maybe not, but I think it’s a good idea to use ten minutes to get more acquainted and—”

“We did that last week,” I argued.

“Well, it didn’t stick, so let’s try it again. What’d you do over the weekend?” Rory asked conversationally.

“You don’t want to hear about my game or the stupid college parties I went to, so let’s talk statistics.” I tapped the cover of the textbook meaningfully.

“We’ll get there. Did you win?”

“Yeah, it was a blowout.”

“Sorry, the acoustics in here are whack. Did you say you got a blowjob?”

I snickered, then sat back and twisted the straw in my to-go cup. “Unfortunately, no.”

Rory tsked. “Too bad, my friend.”

“Did you?”

“Yep. I want to brag and tell you it was amazing, but it wasn’t all that special. I was horny. He was willing.…You know the story.”

“Yeah, I think it’s called a short story with a happy ending,” I joked.

“Ha! Exactly. That’s what happens when you go lookin’ for love in da club. Everyone’s out for a quick fix. Sounds perfect until it’s over ten minutes later. Then you gotta deal with the uncomfortable ‘Did we really just do that?’ aftermath. Not so fun. Enjoy college life while you can. This adult business sucks,” he huffed humorlessly. “And yeah, I took Spanish in school and my brother speaks it. I know enough to hold a short conversation. That’s about it. Why’d you ask?”

I frowned. “I don’t know.”

Rory gave me a patient look. “Talk to me, Christian. We covered Basic BS 101. You told me you won your game and went to a coupla boring parties. I told you I went to WeHo with some friends. Now I’m backtracking to your question about whether or not I speak Spanish ’cause I’m polite like that. Plus it was a weird one. Why’d you want to know?”

“Your tattoo,” I replied, gesturing at his wrist.

Rory turned his palms over for me to inspect. “They’re lines from a Pablo Neruda poem. This one says, ‘En mí todo ese fuego se repite’ and this says, ‘En mí nada se apaga ni se olvida.’ The translation is, ‘In me all this fire is repeated’ and ‘In me nothing is extinguished or forgotten.’ The poem is called ‘If You Forget Me,’ and it’s poignant as fuck. If you don’t know it, look it up.”

“I will. That’s cool.” And “poignant as fuck,” as he so eloquently put it. “But what does it mean to you?” I asked.

“That goes a little beyond water-cooler talk, QB. We’ll save it for when and if we get to know each other well enough to tell secrets,” he said, winking to take the sting from his words.

I nodded in understanding but instead of pulling away, I absently reached out to touch the script. Then I looked into his eyes, and I could have sworn I saw the tiniest crack in his armor before an invisible shield fell into place. In that fraction of a second, a silent communication passed between us. He’d been through hard times and he’d emerged…possibly stronger than ever. I was curious for sure, but there was no way to politely ask his story, so I inclined my head and switched gears.

“Did you study poetry in college?”

“No.” Rory sat back and eyed me for a long moment before continuing. “Are you ready to tackle stats now?”

I slumped in my chair with a theatrical sigh and gave myself a mental high five when he chuckled at my antics. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I’ll go easy on you. I’ve got a feeling this is gonna hurt me more than it’ll hurt you,” he snarked.

I chuckled at the playful innuendo as I leaned forward, intent on giving him one hundred percent of my attention for as long as I could possibly stand it.

Forty minutes later, I had to admit Rory was a good teacher. He’d obviously considered my mental block for all things math. Instead of trying to force concepts and equations down my throat, he came up with relatable everyday scenarios and applied them to his lesson. Although after going through two very involved problems, my brain needed a break.

“I think that’s enough stats for the day,” he said, closing the textbook. “Your eyes are starting to cross.”

“Hmph. True. But I marginally understood what we covered, so that’s not too shabby. If you add anything else, I’ll just get confused.”

Rory scoffed. “The reason you get confused is that you mistakenly think one equation will solve everything. You’re looking for shortcuts and there aren’t any.”

“Why not? There should be CliffsNotes for every facet of life,” I said, only half-kidding.


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