Get What You Need by Jeanette Grey Page B

He’d done stupider things while drunker. He touched his fingertip to his nose just to check, and yeah. He was fine.
    His gait was heavy as he trudged up the last few steps. He turned the corner and steeled himself. He’d said he still had his pride, but he didn’t have anything, not if he was really going through with this, but goddamn it. The itch under his skin was deeper now, and he couldn’t reach it by himself.
    Greg’s door was cracked open. Marsh had his hand on the knob, was poised to knock when he stopped cold. Voices. There were voices. Shit. Cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck, and how could he have been so stupid?
    He turned away, but then there was the quiet call of, “Marsh?”
    Busted. Marsh twisted around and put his hand to the molding. Through the gap in the door, those gorgeous eyes were staring at him from behind thick-framed glasses, and Marsh pushed the door a little wider. Flash and dazzle, and never let them see you sweat. He leaned against the doorframe, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw Ronnie standing next to Greg’s desk. They were both fully dressed, and there were graphs and notebooks spread out all over the place.
    Because they were working on a Saturday night at midnight. Who did that?
    Marsh wanted to sag with his relief, but he kept up the nonchalance he was so good at. He glanced between Ronnie and Greg. “Hey. I was just…”
    What was he doing here? Ronnie was looking at him like he knew exactly how weird it was for Marsh to be seeking Greg out. Marsh swallowed hard.
    “Hey,” Greg answered, then he flinched and reached for his face, pulling his glasses off and folding them up. Clearing his throat, he turned to Ronnie. “Can we finish this up tomorrow?”
    “Um. Sure.” Ronnie retreated a step, grabbing one of the notebooks and a small pile of printouts. His expression was still all confusion, but he wasn’t going to question this out loud, at least.
    Who knew what kinds of questions he might ask tomorrow. Marsh shouldn’t have come. “If you’re working, you don’t have to—”
    “No,” Greg said, “it’s fine.” He tipped his head up to look at Marsh, and there was something in the set of his jaw and in the depths of his eyes. “I thought you’d gone out.”
    “I did. But I came back.” His voice was too thick by half. I came back because I tried to get laid and I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and it’s better for you to use me than for me to get used by anybody else.
    The furrows on Greg’s brow eased, just fractionally, and maybe Marsh had done the right thing. Maybe Greg was as happy to see Marsh as Marsh was to see him.
    Then Greg twisted to look at Ronnie. “I’ve been tutoring Marsh on some…” His voice was tight and all wrong, and he trailed off.
    The coldness crept back in. “Statistics,” Marsh supplied. Because he could lie like nobody’s business, had been lying all his life.
    “Oh. Sure.” Ronnie looked between the two of them again, and Marsh wanted to throw one of their giant engineering textbooks at his face, because Lord knew he couldn’t read one of them, and all he was good for was throwing things.
    He certainly wasn’t good enough for a guy to fess up to fucking around with in front of his friends.
    Marsh’s mouth hurt from the ugly smile he plastered on as he crossed his arms and stepped into the room. Greg and Ronnie exchanged a couple more words, making plans to finish their work tomorrow.
    Ronnie nodded at Marsh as he pushed past. Marsh gave an answering one, then stood there, silent and waiting in the stifling air as the sound of footsteps rang out down the hall. After a minute of waiting and staring at Greg, Marsh turned, ducking his head out into the corridor to check that Ronnie was really gone. He pulled the door closed, holding the knob so it wouldn’t make a sound as it shut, then flipped the lock.
    If the room had been stifling a second ago, it was positively oppressive now. Greg was sitting