Rumor Has It (Longwood U)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

DAK

I stand outside the frat building and stare up at it. Today is one of the days Rumor is open, and I’ve already watched a handful of guys go in. None of them were River. But then, I’d been there for twenty minutes before he showed up last time.

It’s been a week since the hockey game and I’m no less distracted than I had been the day I ran out of here with a hard-on and slightly panicking. If anything, I’m more distracted because I actually spoke to him outside of this place like how a fairly normal interaction would go.

You know, if the person who plays me is awkward as fuck.

I was definitely awkward. So much so that I could feel my skin burning so hot it was going to peel like old paint. Still, I didn’t quite manage to say what I wanted to. Yes, it was the cameras or the guys with the cameras. Whatever it was, it wasn’t River. It wasn’t even his dick.

The weird sense of regret that I didn’t put his dick in my mouth is ridiculously surprising, but also… confusing. Is this real? Is it really me interested in a dick? Because I think it’s not the dick, but the man it’s attached to.

I don’t care that maybe I like dick, but fucking Christ, why did I have to discover this now? Twenty years into my life when I’m right in the middle of spending a stupid amount of money on my education that will no longer guarantee me the future like it once would have eighty years ago and I’m too distracted by a dick to pay attention?

I’m at least mildly convinced that it’s not his dick that I’m obsessing over. It’s River himself. Which is stupid. I know nothing about him as a person. Yes, he’s… wonderful to look at. I appreciate his confidence and his beautiful smile. Plus he’s friendly and seems kind enough.

I enjoy his body and… I think he has a nice dick. Right? It’s nice?

My cheeks heat as I stare at the frat house while wondering if River has a nice dick. Who even am I? Is this even real?

Taking a breath, I climb the stairs and show my card to the man dressed as a fireman. He gives me a resigned smile and I try not to laugh. He looks entirely harassed.

Following the different representations of dicks, I make my way downstairs to the door to Rumor. It opens before I have a chance to knock. It’s the same man who let me in before.

“Hi,” he greets. “Dak?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Want to try again, do you?”

“How often do people try?” I ask, curious.

He shrugs as he leads me in. “I’d say upwards of thirty percent are one and done. They try and that’s it, win or lose. Another fifty percent probably come back a second time.”

“Wow. That many?”

He grins. “Yeah. I have a hypothesis that all guys are at least mildly bi-curious. This allows them the anonymity to figure it out and the excuse to try as many times as they want, using whatever motivation they tell themselves and anyone else—money, need to win, he’s not gay.”

“I bet you’ve heard a lot,” I say, amused.

“A lot,” he agrees. “People like to volunteer reasons for showing up. I don’t ask.”

“Did I offer one?” I was so nervous that I don’t remember what I said.

He tilts his head. “Don’t remember. If you did, it wasn’t outrageous enough for me to remember.”

“I love not standing out in a crowd. ”

He laughs. “I’m Porter. Not sure I gave you my name before.”

“You remember mine, so I don’t need to offer it. Do you remember everyone who shows up?”

Porter grins, then holds up his phone. “No. Your card was scanned, and a name was assigned at your first visit.”

“All the cards are different?” I ask, surprised.

He nods. “Yep. They all give the same information to you, but they lead to different coded entries, which we can assign names and take notes on.”

My face flushes. “I see.”

Porter chuckles. “Not a big deal. The notes are primarily who invited you, which room you were in, who you were with, who won, what you’d done, and the cameramen who were there. We do make notes if you’ve become hostile or belligerent or have caused us any problems whatsoever. And your contract is attached, too.”

“That’s quite the operation,” I muse.

“We’re always improving when something new comes along, but yeah, the frat has been doing this long enough to make sure we have a bunch of safety nets in place—for all of our protection.”

“Do you participate in your own games?” I ask.

He grins widely. “Are you asking me to the challenge, Dak?”

I laugh. “No. I’m curious.”

Porter shrugs. “Not generally, but those within DIK who aren’t associated with Rumor do on occasion. But in general, our members aren’t straight. We have our token straight guys every year but usually, we’re a whole lot of rainbows.”

“I didn’t realize that.”

He pauses in the door to the room where there are half a dozen guys milling about. Nervously. Pretending not to be nervous. The thought that River is in a room with someone else makes my stomach roll.

It’s just a game.

“How do you choose those you invite?”

“We choose those we feel are straight, otherwise, there’s a clear unfair advantage. You can’t generally outgay a gay, you know?” Porter answers.

I nod absently.

“But I think we give out an equal number of cards to those we feel are maybe questioning. Confused. Those who need a safe outlet without judgment to explore a little.”

“Which one was I?”

“Knowing who gave you your card, he felt you were straight. He looks for the straightest of straight.”

“I suppose a failed blind date with a woman you’ve already met on a blind date would totally give that impression,” I muse.

He laughs. Porter claps my shoulder. “I’ll let you know when a room opens. I’ll even let you choose from the herd here.”

My stomach drops. “Wait.” I turn to look at him. “The guy I was with before? Is he here?”

Porter looks at his phone, taps around, and then shakes his head. “No. River shows up randomly a couple times a month. He was just here, so he likely won’t be back for a while.”

My gut falls.

He gives me a considering look. “You don’t have to stay.”

I consider his statement and glance over my shoulder. None of them look even a little like River. But… maybe I want to see if it is a River reaction or maybe I am bi and… only now realized?

It’s just a game.

People come here to experiment. To learn about themselves in a safe environment.

Taking a breath, I shake my head. “No, I’ll stay.”

“Cool. Just so you know, you’re likely not going to win against River unless you can get over the cameras. That man is rarely bested.”

“But he has been bested,” I point out.

“I wouldn’t call it bested. I think there’s been a total of two guys who have won the $1,000 against him, one of which had a mental breakdown directly following. The other guy… not sure what happened to him, but for the following months, he seemed to be overcompensating, trying to convince everyone around him that he’s straight in a very toxic way.”

“River is that good or that bad?” I ask, amused.

Porter laughs. “I’m going to say that good. I’ve never seen him back down. He has a reputation within these walls and from his fans. Which means if someone is specifically after River to win against, it’s about River because of his title. At that point, I don’t think it’s healthy unless it happens naturally and there’s something else driving you beyond just besting him. I promise, if something like those two options is what’s driving your need to win against River, it’s not healthy and you should definitely move on.” He studies me until I fidget. “That’s not the impression I get from you, though.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t want to beat River.”

“But you still want to play with him.”

My cheeks heat. “Uh… yeah.”

He grins. “Sorry he’s not here, but he’ll love that there’s a new guy asking for him.”

I wince. “Please tell me I’m not a groupie.”

Porter laughs. “Depends how often you’re here for him. And again, your reasoning. The one guy is determined to win. He gets to a certain point and freaks, so I don’t think it’s going to happen. We’ve even stopped posting those videos because they’re getting repetitive.” He shrugs. “I think it’s a personal challenge for him more than River himself. I don’t think he enjoys it much, but he doesn’t want to be… beaten. It’s hard to put into words the difference between this guy and the one who turned into a dick after. But I don’t get the impression that he’s going to be that guy. This is internal.”

“This is kind of fascinating,” I say.

He grins. “It really is. Human observation at its finest, right here.” His phone buzzes and he glances at it. “Go ahead and relax. I’ll let you know when it’s your turn.”

I enter the lounge and take a seat in a big chair. There are a few magazines nearby, so I pick one up. The most recent issue of SCORE with a football player on the cover. I scoff internally. Hockey is far superior to football. They’re not even on skates! Anyone can slam into someone running on cleats. Try staying on your feet when you’re on skates and body slammed into the wall.

Three more people join the room before Porter comes back and beckons me to him. “Who will it be?”

This means River hasn’t shown up. I glance around the room and choose someone with the same features. The same basic features because he looks absolutely nothing like River .

“Michael?” Porter calls. The man I chose looks up, meeting Porter’s eyes and then mine. “Let’s go, darling. You’re up.”

He gives Porter a single nod. Michael doesn’t look at me as we follow Porter into a different room than the one I’d been in before. I only know that because of the door being in a different spot. Admittedly, I don’t remember much about the room itself since I was solely focused on River.

We step inside and the cameramen are also different this time. Porter winks at me and leaves after introducing the cameramen as Karter and Sriyan. Once again, I’m keenly aware of their presence.

This starts out the exact same way as the first time, which is a little comforting since I’m already familiar with it.

“You’ve already signed the paperwork, swearing silence and anonymity and permission to post it on our paid platform. Yes?” Karter asks. Michael and I nod. Karter mimics the motion. “This is gay chicken—for pay. For each individual step, you can earn $50 for a total of a grand. The first one to back out, doesn’t get paid. Your opponent gets the cash for all the steps you met. If you make it to the end, you both earn $1,000. Any questions?”

“No,” Michael says.

Karter looks at me and I nod, repeating, “No.”

“Do you both freely give consent for everything up to and including penetrative sex?”

We answer yes.

“Do you both understand that a ‘no’ or ‘stop’ means stop and you will back away immediately?”

“Yes.”

“Ready when you are,” Karter declares, then raises his camera and I see the little red light come on.

The contents of my stomach lurch violently, to the point where I taste bile. I force my attention on Michael and then decide that I definitely should have chosen someone who had zero of the same features as River. The similarity is grating, even in the fact that he looks nothing like River. It’s disorienting.

Michael steps toward me. His hand comes up but as soon as he touches my neck, I back away. “Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “Sorry. No. Can’t do this.”

I turn and throw the door open. Porter is a few feet away and turns to look at me. He gives me an amused look and inclines his head toward the door, allowing me to see myself out.

For a minute, I take a deep breath. Trying to see if I can convince myself that I just need a guy that looks nothing like River. A small, blond, blue eyes, soft… man. Yeah, no. Not happening.

Without looking back, I leave Rumor. Taking the stairs two at a time, I nearly plow into someone on their way down. He stumbles, falling back on his ass and gives me a glare.

“Dick isn’t that terrifying,” he calls after me.

“If you know that already, you probably have too much experience to be here,” I yell back at him before turning the corner.

I bypass the firefighter at the front and practically fly down the steps. My heart is still racing. I run until I’m far away from DIK and then pause against a tree to catch my breath.

Well, I just made an idiot of myself. Bracing my hands on my knees, I try to determine if I care. Does it bother me that at least half a dozen people just saw me running out of there again as if my ass were on fire?

It wasn’t River this time. I keep telling myself I wouldn’t have run if it had been him. The thought of this Michael guy touching me though? Oh, no. Just not feeling that. No, thank you.

However, now I’m left with a very weird predicament. What the fuck am I supposed to do with this obsession over River?

I drop to the grass and lean against the trunk of the tree. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on letting my breathing regulate. The image of River’s amused smile outside of the hockey arena flashes in my head and makes my stomach flutter.

“Ridiculous,” I mutter.

I don’t know this guy. What is wrong with me?