Choosing August

Chapter 14

When we arrived, Titus finally realized what I meant when I said I lived on campus.

My apartment was on the third floor.

Not a three-story apartment, obviously. An apartment located three stories up.

Which, with my leg locked straight in a brace, might as well have been the top of a mountain.

I took the crutches and started toward the stairs.

Titus watched me struggle with the first step.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to get to my room.”

“You’re never going to make it that way.”

“Well, I have to get up there somehow.”

The next thing I knew, he had picked me up.

One arm went behind my back. The other slid beneath my legs, carefully supporting the braced one.

For a moment, my mind completely stopped working.

Titus—the man I had fantasized about from a distance, the beautiful volleyball god who shouldn’t have even known I existed—was carrying me.

I could smell him.

Oh, he smelled good.

There was a natural masculine musk beneath a small amount of cologne. Even his clothes smelled clean and expensive.

Fuck.

I prayed I hadn’t said that out loud.

I hadn’t.

His arms were strong around me. I could feel the solid press of his chest as he carried me toward the stairs. His watch rested beneath my back, cool and unmistakably expensive.

For some reason, even that turned me on.

I could almost feel his heartbeat through his shirt. Every step made the muscles in his chest and arms shift beneath me.

Then the embarrassment arrived.

He was carrying me like a bride.

That thought only made the attraction worse.

He’s carrying me across the threshold.

Then the anger came, because no one was listening to me. Everyone had decided I couldn’t do anything for myself, and now Titus was hauling me up three flights of stairs without even asking.

And I wasn’t exactly light.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Getting you upstairs.”

“I’m not skinny, Titus. I’m heavy.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” He adjusted his grip without slowing. “You think I’m not strong enough to carry you?”

“I’m just a lot.”

“Augie, you’re fine.”

I flinched slightly at the name.

He had started calling me Augie as though he had earned it.

Apparently, I was letting him.

By the time we reached the third floor, my face was warm for several different reasons. I fished my keys from my pocket, unlocked the door, and hobbled inside once Titus set me down.

He went back for the crutches.

“The wheelchair can stay in my car,” he said when he returned. “If you need to go somewhere, I’ll bring it up. Or one of the other guys can get it.”

I barely heard him.

I was too busy looking around my room and suddenly seeing every piece of clutter through his eyes.

“Sorry about the mess.”

I moved toward a stack of books and tried to straighten them.

“Augie.”

“There are clothes over there. I meant to put those away, and I haven’t really cleaned this week.”

“It looks lived in.” He glanced around again. “I like that.”

He crossed the room and sat on my bed.

A second later, he seemed to realize which one it was and moved to the empty cot across from it.

I grabbed a couple of blankets and tossed them toward him, trying to play host while balancing awkwardly on the crutches.

“Here. You might need those. I probably have another pillow somewhere.”

“Just tell me where things are, and I’ll get them.” He nodded toward my bed. “You should lie down.”

“I need to change first.”

Then I realized what that meant.

I was going to have to take my clothes off in front of Titus.

Titus noticed my hesitation.

“We’re both guys,” he said. “You can change in front of me.”

Easy for him to say.

“In fact, if you’re okay with it, I’ll probably sleep in my underwear.”

Two separate reactions hit me at once.

First, my mind nearly short-circuited at the image of Titus sleeping in his underwear only a few feet away from me.

Second, there was absolutely no way he was seeing me without a shirt.

He looked like a god.

I looked like a garden gnome.

I managed to make it to the bathroom and changed there, struggling with the brace and my clothes until I finally got into something comfortable.

When I came back out, Titus looked amused.

“It really wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Maybe not for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not exactly working with six-pack abs and pecs.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he said. “You’re a regular guy.”

“Yep. Average Joe.”

I tried to move past the subject.

Then Titus pulled off his shirt.

I wasn’t ready.

His arms flexed as he folded it. His chest was broad, narrowing into a lean waist. His stomach was defined, every line visible without looking exaggerated. The V beneath his abs disappeared into the waistband of his pants.

He had a light scattering of hair across his chest and around his n*****s, with another patch lower on his stomach. The hair didn’t connect, which somehow made every section of his body stand out even more.

He was beautiful.

Then his pants came off.

I caught sight of the bulge beneath his underwear. It was noticeable. Impressive enough that my mind immediately began trying to estimate what he looked like when he was fully hard.

Considering his height and long build, I figured he was probably carrying a lot.

That was a mental image I did not need while he was sleeping in the same room.

I looked away quickly.

“I’m just a guy, same as you,” Titus said. “You don’t have to be ashamed.”

I kept my eyes directed toward the wall.

“If I’m making you uncomfortable, I can find a shirt or something.”

“No. You’re fine.”

“Okay.”

He sat on the empty cot.

“Just relax.”