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An A minus.
Trace'd gotten a fucking A minus on his paper examining the socio-economic influence's on Thomas Hardy's heroes, specifically Michael Henchard from The Mayor of Casterbridge.
He had to sit, he was so stunned. He had bullshitted his way from one end of that paper to the other. Seriously. And here he was with an A minus. He checked the front page again, making sure Professor Orilio had given him the right paper back. Yeah, there was his name: Trace Kent.
Okay, someone had to buy him a beer because this was too fucking cool. If only his ability to bullshit was always at an A minus level.
He put his head back and cheered, grinning at the way the freshmen gave his bench a very wide berth. Just wait baby-college-goers, he thought. One day you too will cheer for the rare A that graces your papers.
Laughing, he shoved his paper into his backpack and contemplated his choices.
If it was Friday he'd just go down to the Dance Hall because he'd be sure to run into someone he could tell, but it could be rather thin on student patrons on a Tuesday.
He'd go cruise along University Avenue. He was bound to run into someone he knew at one of the restaurants there.
Bounding up, he swung his backpack over his left shoulder and turned right, smacking hard into someone.
"Whoa, there." Hard hands caught his arms when he rebounded, steadying him. "You okay?"
"Yeah, sorry. Sorry. I wasn't looking." He glanced up into the man's face. Oh, now. This guy was good looking.
"No problem. It's a blind corner." Smile lines crinkled up around the man's eyes and mouth, and those hands didn't loosen at all. They just held him warmly.Tanned skin topped by dark hair showed off pretty green eyes, and that smiling mouth ... well, it was very pretty.
"Yeah, it is." Which was a stupid thing to say, but he was trying to prolong this inadvertent meeting.
"Where were you going in such a hurry?"
Now was the fact that this guy was still holding him flirting? He was going to go with yes, because it was just that kind of day. "Nowhere, really. I was looking for someone to have a drink with."
"Oh, too bad I'm on the clock." The guy winked, drawing attention to how pretty those green eyes were. "I could use a drink."
"How much longer are you on the clock for, man? That A's not going anywhere."
"I get off in about an hour." Okay, definitely flirting. The man was smiling, thumbs moving in little circles on his arms.
"Yeah? I could go to the library or something..." He didn't make any attempt to step away.
"Yeah? Where did you have in mind for a drink?" Somehow it was like, ten times hotter all of a sudden, and his clothes were too tight. Something about the guy's voice was doing it for him.
"I'm pretty easy." He grinned, letting the guy take that any way he wanted. "The Reading Room's got a nice atmosphere and beer on tap."
"Then why don't I meet you there. You can get us a table." One hand slid down his arm, grasping his wrist, bending his arm so they could shake on it. "I'm Colt, by the way. David Colt."
"Nice to bump into you, Colt. I'm Trace Kent."
"You'll be seeing more of me soon. Later, honey." Colt turned to walk away, showing off a tiny, tight ass in a pair of old jeans.
An A minus and Colt.
Laughing, he sauntered off in the general direction of the library to kill some time before heading to The Reading Room.