If Only by A. J. Pine

go of Griffin and backing up to drag Noah from where he still stands, “is Noah, who is as miserable about being awake right now as you are.”
    Hailey offers me a conciliatory grin, but it doesn’t help the sudden onset of nausea that stems from either a lack of sustenance or from watching Griffin and Noah meet. Never mind Hailey having to introduce herself, and me, the idiot with her mouth hanging open, with nothing to say.
    At this point both guys have their hands in the front pockets of their jeans, both resigned to being awake and tour-ready though they could have slept the day away.
    “Hey,” Griffin says, a slow shrug and sigh accompanying his one-word salutation. “I’m Griffin.” He cocks his head in my direction. “And this evil genius is Jordan.”
    Noah offers Griffin the dude nod, the primitive language of men.
    “I’m Noah,” he says. He waits a beat before turning to me, and I think I see a sort of painful recognition in his eyes. But when he looks at me he smiles, and I wonder if I imagined it, if Noah seeing me with Griffin had the same effect as me seeing him with Hailey. Only one of us, however, is a douche bag in this scenario, and it sure as hell isn’t me.
    “Good morning, Brooks.” Noah’s navy fleece collar circles his neck, zipped all the way to the top. The bottoms of his jeans rest above worn running shoes, and I close my eyes and envision Noah the runner, wearing the soles of his shoes thin. The silent, solitary activity suits him.
    My eyes open again to reality. Mr. Silent’s barely too-long hair brushes the top of his collar, and his eyes take on the soothing color of his shirt. But solitary he is not.
    The gentle coarseness of his voice, the familiarity in the way he says my last name as if it is my first, steals the words from my mouth. “Good morning, Noah,” is the obvious response, but instead I stare, wordless, at his lips.
    Seriously, universe. Not funny.
    “You two know each other?” It’s Griffin. In all the times I’ve bumped into Noah in the past eighteen or so hours, Griffin has always been somewhere else.
    I peel my eyes from Noah to focus on Griffin. Griffin, who smells like apples and is sexy as shit in his clothes from last night, teasing me with anticipatory kisses.
    “Yeah, sort of. I mean, yes. We know each other. Not well, though. The train. We met on the train. From London.”
    Oh, hell. I’m losing my ability to form sentences again.
    I’m still looking at Griffin, but can feel Noah smiling at me. Aside from temporary insanity, though, a tiny pang of guilt worms its way into the pit of my stomach. I remind myself that Noah’s the jerk here, smiling Noah. I’ve done nothing to merit feeling guilty.
    “Good mornin’, new students!” A familiar Scottish accent jars me from my stupor. I look toward the voice and laugh. Duncan is our guide? He threw back at least two more pints than Griffin last night, yet here he is, bright eyed, ready to go…and wearing a kilt!
    “Awrite, folks. I’m Duncan McAllister. I’m a fourth year here at Aberdeen, and I’m going to show you ’round the university. What’s the time? Aye, we’ve got a few minutes before we have to shove off, so if you want to pop into the store and grab a tea or coffee, we’ll start walking in five.” In the light of day I note that Duncan is quite cute, for a man in a skirt. His dark hair, cropped close to the head, complements his equally dark eyes, both a lovely contrast to his milky complexion.
    The small crowd disperses in the direction of the store situated in the middle of all the residence halls. Duncan spots us immediately and heads in our direction.
    “Alo, mate. Didn’t think I’d see you this mornin’,” Duncan says to Griffin. “You can buy me a pint later for walking your girl home last night.”
    I could damn well kiss Duncan for breaking up the awkwardness. Griffin smiles. It’s hard not to around Duncan. “Thanks, man,” he says. “I mean, mate. I can’t