When I first walked into the apartment, I immediately sensed the abundance of testosterone.
He was roomed with two other males. These two other males were the fraternity type. The bro type. One had short hair, one had long hair. The kinda guys who called each other "fag" to tease each other during video games.
There was always a beer on nearby surfaces. Empty or half filled. Usually Coors Light or Blue Moon. The couch was more of a loveseat, it was beige and had a section to rest your feet. The TV was a nice small flat screen, right next to it was PS4. I have seen a lot of these everywhere lately. I guess every guy I talked to had one.
I wonder if they are all friends online.
The apartment had an interesting layout that made it more of a stacked house. It was three stories. The first floor was roomed by one guy. The second floor was the main entrance, kitchen, and living room. The third floor was where his room was and the other guy. It is where I often spent my time.
He had his own bathroom near his bedroom, which was pretty awesome. Shower and all. He always apologized for having a messy room. I always said it was fine. Because it really was fine, and no hard working student should actually have time to clean well (my excuse probably).
I went a few times because I wanted attention—which he gave me the most of. He was middle eastern and twenty-one. It was hard to understand him sometimes because of his thick accent. He first made me guess his ethnicity on the spot and I was very nervous. But I guessed it right the first time.
He always showered before I came over. He often smelled like old spice, as well as cigarettes, beer, and tobacco. I didn't really care much. It kind of just made him even more attractive. He didn't shave much either, apologizing often but I liked it.
At 12 am, we would creep up the wooden stairs to his apartment. The first-floor window was usually lit. His roommates were usually awake, just in their room luckily. We made sure to be extra quiet. I didn't really like being sneaky but I had to be.
Before I would leave, he would creep up behind me on the bed and wrap his legs around my waist. Kind of like he didn't want me to leave, but really he just wanted me to come back again. He made sure to give me a hug before I left as an effort to make me want to come back again, he told me.
He was very much down-low. When we first met, he told me about where he used to live and the experiences he had growing up closeted. He explained to me that he was receiving most of his money from his parents and that if they were to find out he was gay, the money would be gone.
He loved being open with me and I could tell every second. I wish he could be open with everyone.
But instead, we're bros.