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Finals | Lydia Nyx

2

“Y

OU

know, you’d probably have a better time if you

exchanged that for a bottle of this,” Vince said as he shook
his half-empty bottle at Connor. The golden fluid inside the
bottle sloshed against its glass prison and left sludgy white
foam up the sides.

“Get that out of my face.” Connor waved a hand, the

other around his can of Diet Coke. “It’s cheap piss.”

“It’s imported!”

“It’s piss.”

The thick air inside the bar formed a buzzing cocoon of

voices and music around them. Their closest friends were
nearby, at various tables and standing about; further out
were people Connor knew by face, but very few by name. The
whole university was there, it seemed. Now that finals were
over, everybody was going out for a drink or ten to relax.

“Why have you been in such a bad mood?” Vince asked.

“I’m not in a bad mood! Why do you always assume if

I’m not rolling around on the floor drunk or lighting
something on fire I’m in a bad mood?”

“You aren’t upset about it, are you? I mean, you’re not

just humoring me, are you?” Vince was gazing at him in
concern, worry glinting in his eyes.

Finals | Lydia Nyx

3

“I told you I have no problem with it. I’m happy for you.

I don’t give two shits who you fuck. I really don’t care what
they are, either.”

Vince snorted. “What they are. You make him sound like

an animal.”

“Well, he can be a huge ass.”

Vince grinned. They’d had this conversation no less

than three times in as many days, and Vince seemed to
remain convinced Connor’s odd disposition had something to
do with Vince’s confession—a confession Connor hadn’t been
surprised by at all. The subject of Vince’s recently cracked-
open secret sat across the room, and neither of them had
looked at each other for the past twenty minutes. They did a
lot of that, not looking at each other; perhaps because their
faces lit up like summer when their eyes did meet and no
one in the vicinity had to wonder.

Connor, on the other hand, couldn’t quit staring, just

over Vince’s left shoulder, toward the bar.

“I just don’t want you to feel odd around me,” Vince

said.

Connor sighed. “I swear to sweet Uncle Jesus if you

continue to worry over this, I’m going to kick you in the nuts
and take your wallet.”

Vince laughed. “I’m going to get another beer. You want

some more diet cocaine?”

“No, I’m good.” Connor drummed his fingers against the

can.

Finals | Lydia Nyx

4

Vince got up and made his way to the bar, waylaid

numerous times by drunken friends. When he finally did get
there, he glanced toward the young man across the room
with the mop of curly dark hair and their eyes met for a
moment, faces lighting up with secretive grins. Connor
smiled as well, propping his chin on his hand, and redirected
his stare to its original roost.

The object of Connor’s watchful gaze finally turned away

from the bar, tall and lanky, wearing a blue button-down
shirt beneath his black peacoat. Thick, dark-blond hair fell
across his forehead and framed a pale, delicately-structured
face. As he crossed the room, he glanced at Connor, their
gazes meeting for a moment, making the pool of Diet Coke in
Connor’s stomach churn. The other man looked away and
pushed through the crowd, disappearing toward the
bathrooms.

An hour later ,Vince announced he was suitably bored

enough with the bar to call it quits. Connor followed him out,
caught in a whirlwind of smoke and lively chatter from
smokers hanging around outside as they stepped into the
wintry night. Vince’s boyfriend, Paul, came with them.
Connor saw Vince’s hand brush against Paul’s under the
cuffs of their coats before they took a step away from each
other.

“More partying?” Vince asked. “Back at the dorm?”

“Count me out,” Connor said.

“You know I’m in,” Paul said.

Connor was just about to head for his car when he felt

Finals | Lydia Nyx

5

someone brush past his shoulder. He glanced over to see a
black peacoat and blond hair fluttering against a smooth,
elegant throat. Connor watched him go, insulated by his
cadre of friends and a cousin who had come to visit him
during Christmas break.

“Wet blanket,” Vince chided Connor. “I’m going at it

until I pass out.”

Back at the dorm, Connor made his apologies.

“I’m wiped out from all the studying this past week.”

Connor pulled against Vince’s fingers digging into his arm
and against his even more iron-gripped pout.

“Just for a bit?” Vince asked. “Who’s going to hold my

hair while I puke?”

“I think you have someone to do that for you now.”

“Who’s going to hold his hair while he pukes?”

“You can hold each other’s. You know, puke in stereo.

Just try to time it.”

Vince squeezed his arm tighter. “All right. You really

aren’t strange?”

Connor grabbed him and attempted to get a knee up

against his nut sac. Vince laughed wildly.

“I mean it,” Connor said. “I’ll take your wallet!”

Vince hugged him and kissed his cheek firmly. “Thank

you,” he whispered. “Dear friend.”

“Be good, stupid,” Connor told him.

Finals | Lydia Nyx

6

Vince smiled at him and hurried off toward his room

where Paul was waiting. Connor headed to his own room,
one floor below.

The hallways were quiet and empty, as was the elevator,

just his own reflection in the mirrored wall to keep him
company. He smoothed his hands over his worn leather
jacket and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. He looked
unkempt. He felt unkempt, out of sorts.

His roommate had left the day before to visit his parents

over Christmas break. Connor switched on the light in their
room, revealing his own messy bed, his clothes strewn
across the floor, his books piled up on his desk. He sat down
heavily on the edge of his bed and peeled his coat off. As he
did, he noticed the lingering, stale scent of what had
happened on his sheets the night before: faint, bitter
remnants of sweat and cigarette smoke and things unsavory
and secret.

He lay on the bed, stripped down to his T-shirt and

boxers, staring at the yellow pool of light cast on the ceiling
by the wall lamp. He swore the bed was haunted, full of
whispers and subtle movements. When he closed his eyes,
his senses burned with memory—the sticky feel of sweat
under his fingertips, the outline of narrow hips and
shoulders in the darkness. Then the silence afterward, more
ponderous and terrible than the always-question: Why do we
keep doing this?

Connor was afraid of evil spirits, the vexing ones that

crept in during the night when he was alone.

He had just dozed off when a soft knock came at the

Finals | Lydia Nyx

7

door, jerking him out of a dream of tangled fingers under the
cuffs of coats. By the time he stumbled blearily to the door,
he had convinced himself it was Vince, come to ask if he was
really, really, really all right with Paul and him being gay.
This time Connor was going to beat him up and take his
money and use it to buy blueberry waffles in the morning.

It wasn’t Vince.

Taylor had shed the peacoat, sleeves rolled up, hands

tucked in the pockets of his jeans. He looked nervous.

Connor leaned against the door frame, rubbing a hand

over his face. He wanted to ask: It hasn’t been long enough
since your last visit, has it? or Did you get lost or something?

Instead he asked, “What?”

“I left my watch,” Taylor said.

Connor hadn’t noticed, but then, he hadn’t looked.

“Did you?” Connor looked back into the room. “I didn’t

see it. Maybe you….”

His voice trailed off as fingers touched his. Connor

turned to look at him and Taylor stepped closer.

“Can I come in?”

“Why?” Connor asked. It was the word that started every

sentence they said to each other. Why do you look at me like
that? Why do you come to my room? Why do you get up and
leave when you’re through with me?

There was no answer, though. The questions were

rhetorical, a monologue, a soliloquy. Shakespeare, in modern

Finals | Lydia Nyx

8

form with all the drama and twice the angst. What light
through yonder window breaks? It was the east, and Taylor
was twisting his heart again, held tight in slender fingers.

Connor reached over and switched the light off, letting

the evil spirits in.

Something caught Connor’s attention later: the feel of a

slender wrist under his hand, pressed tight against the bed.
He could feel the bones, delicate under thin skin. His whole
mind focused on that wrist despite what was going on
elsewhere with his body. He wanted to squeeze and hold it
there until Taylor couldn’t move, until he couldn’t get up.

In the humid darkness after, Connor stared up at the

ceiling and rubbed his fingers together, feeling those bones
again.

Tonight Connor sat up first, found his shirt and put it

on, so he wouldn’t have to lie there and feel Taylor get up.
Taylor didn’t get up, though, even when Connor sat there for
a few minutes, staring into the darkness and waiting. When
he finally sat up, it was so inevitable it was comforting, but
when he slid his arm around Connor’s shoulder and rested a
hand on his chest, Connor’s heart nearly stopped.

“Connor,” Taylor whispered.

“Shut up,” Connor answered back. “Don’t.”

Taylor was still, his body tense. He whispered again,

“It’s harder now. Seeing them. Knowing.”

“We’ve always known.”

“But now we see.”

Finals | Lydia Nyx

9

Connor found it hard to think with Taylor’s hand there,

over his pounding heart like it might stay, like it might stay
forever. He pictured Paul’s hand over Vince’s heart. Surely in
their own darkness, they were together like that, oblivious to
evil spirits.

“I’m happy for them,” Connor said.

“Did you tell Vince about us? To make him feel better?”

“No.”

Conner knew what Taylor feared. There was nothing

more painful than a mirror, especially one that showed you
what things could be like if you weren’t frightened. It wasn’t
even that they were both men. Taylor had told him from the
start he had a fear of commitment, that he wasn’t sure of
himself, let alone someone else.

Taylor lingered a moment longer, hurting Connor worse

than when he just got up and left. Finally he drew back, his
arm slipping away. But Connor couldn’t take it, not tonight,
not after secret smiles and stereo puking, that terrible
mirror. He reached back and caught hold of a slender wrist,
squeezing delicate bones.

“Tay,” he whispered. “Don’t go. Stay with me.”

There was silence, no movement, just Connor’s

pounding heart and the bones of Taylor’s wrist grinding
under his fingers.

“Why?” Taylor asked softly.

“Why?” Connor found Taylor’s pulse under his thumb,

soft and fluttery like the wings of a hummingbird. “Because.

Finals | Lydia Nyx

10

I want—”

“Why didn’t you ask me before now?”

Silence again, in which Connor found no answer to the

question, no limit to the amount he could be stunned, taken
aback, bowled over. He let go of Taylor’s wrist and Taylor
didn’t get up.

“They frighten me with possibility,” Taylor said. “It

stunned me into realization. Vince keeps asking me if I’m all
right with it. How can I tell him? And how can I tell you I
think I’m ready for what they have?” A soft, nervous laugh.

Somewhere between not daring to hope and realizing the

impossible, Connor found himself lying back on the bed
again, Taylor’s head on his shoulder, Taylor’s arm draped
across him.

“I’m scared of the dark,” Connor admitted.

“I know,” Taylor said. “I didn’t forget my watch.”

“I know.”

Taylor sighed softly. “Can you be patient with me? Hold

my hand?”

“I’ll never let it go.”

Finals | Lydia Nyx

11

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Lydia Nyx is from Cleveland, Ohio. She’s older than she
looks and not as wise as she seems. Her many incredible
talents include making things up, finding amazing clothes in
thrift stores, and giving her opinions on things no one asked
her about. Her favorite holiday is Halloween and her favorite
color is black, not because she’s dark and broody, but
because it doesn’t show the stains when she dumps things
on herself. She writes romance and erotica, as well as
paranormal, horror, and urban fantasy, and prefers all her
fiction with a male/male twist. She currently resides in a
little apartment with her teenage son and a crazy cat and
spends countless hours of the day entertaining the dirty
fantasies in her head. As a “day job” she works as a waitress,
which gives her lots of free time to slack off and plot stories.
Writing since the age of thirteen, she has always wanted to
be an author and hopefully one day writing will be her only
job.

Visit her web site at

http://www.lydianyx.com

, on Twitter at

http://twitter.com/lydianyx

,

or

contact

her

at

[e-mail]

.

Finals ©Copyright Lydia Nyx, 2011

Published by
Dreamspinner Press
382 NE 191st Street #88329
Miami, FL 33179-3899 USA
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

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

Cover Art by Anne Cain [e-mail]
Cover Design by Mara McKennen

This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is
illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon
conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No
part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. To
request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 382 NE 191st Street
#88329 Miami, FL 33179-3899 USA http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

Released in the United States of America
October 2011

eBook Edition