***

“As the new kids,” Ray started the moment they were seated at a table in the dining hall that seemed to be packed at lunch hour, “we need to learn who’s who and fast.”

“Do you intend to be popular?” Jonathan questioned while he eyed the fries on his plate with a dubious look. They looked greasy and unpalatable, but together with the salad he had chosen, they could be considered a meal. Not a decent meal, mind you, but still.

“Hey, it’s all about knowing who’s worth knowing, right?” Ray said with a shrug. Unlike Jonathan, he was biting from his hamburger like he hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks. “The thing is popular students are the gateway to, you know, meeting others.”

“Do you want to hang out with the popular girls?” Jonathan teased. “Come on, Ray, that’s superficial. And I thought you were looking for true love.”

“Yeah, but it might take me a few tries to get there. Anywho, I did my research and --”

“Research? When did you have time for it? Only a few days ago, we were still unpacking.” Jonathan looked at the dressing pack and decided to skip it. It was good that their small suite had a kitchenette that could be used for some basic cooking.

“Sunny Hill Xpress,” Ray said with satisfaction.

“What’s that?”

“A very interesting digital publication that documents who’s who here, at Sunny Hill. It even has pictures and stuff.”

“Like Facebook?”

“Better.” Ray was barely waiting to share the fruits of his research with Jonathan. “This website lets you in the latest gossip, down to the juiciest details. Whoever is behind it, I’m telling you, they’re not mincing words.”

“So it’s a tabloid,” Jonathan said. He felt a growing unease at the thought. A look around half-convinced him that wannabe paparazzi weren’t present. His shoulders relaxed an inch. One thing he had to do was to convince himself that finally, here, at Sunny Hill, Jonathan Hamilton was nobody, and he had every intention to remain so. “Don’t believe everything it says in there.”

“Hey, it was really educational, and why are we here, at these esteemed halls of learning if not to get an education?”

Jonathan doubted he could argue with Ray on any topic. “I suppose,” he admitted with a slight shrug.

“Come on, JJ, don’t you want to know who’s gay, single, and out and proud on top of everything?”

In a moment of weakness, or just because Ray had insisted like a cat smelling catnip, he had admitted to his dating game being precisely that. While he had every intention to settle this time for something serious, Jonathan didn’t want to jump into it just yet.

“So, who’s the most important kid around here? Or kids?” he asked, wanting Ray and his matchmaking aspirations to steer clear of that topic.

“Gosh, JJ, you talk like you’re eighty,” Ray replied with a wave of the hand.

Another thing he had no idea of was when he had become a JJ. There was just something about Ray that made him accept everything the guy was throwing at him. All that talking about them becoming besties no longer seemed so far-fetched.

“Look,” Ray began and turned in his seat to point at a table several feet away from them.

The first thing Jonathan noticed was a red football jersey stretching on a back so large that a few stadiums had to be needed to accommodate such a presence. The student was standing, masking the view to his table, but the others were so rowdy that they were hard to miss. People walking by stopped to talk to them, high-fiving and doing all the inane things popular kids did.

The giant found his way to sit finally, so Ray continued. “That’s Dexter Solomon, Dex as his friends call him. He plays football, and rumor has it that he can drink an entire keg by himself. According to Xpress, he has done it at least once.”

“What a cliche,” Jonathan murmured.

“The brunet by his right,” Ray said, unfazed by his commentary, “is Kane Dubois. His dad attended Sunny Hill in his time and is now a big shot in the big pharma industry. He’s someone good to know.”

Ray wasn’t off the mark with that. As chemistry majors, going into the pharmaceutical business was an option to consider. Jonathan examined Kane briefly. He looked athletic, as well, not as big as Dex but impressive in his own right. As he had expected, Ray was drawn like a moth to a flame to the jock club, or one of the many.

“Kane plays lacrosse,” Ray added. “And that’s Rusty Parker.”

Jonathan examined the attractive blond with the dog-like name, who stood up and landed a perfect shot using a crumpled napkin turned into a ball to send through the improvised hoop offered by the linked arms of an equally attractive female student who screeched in delight. Ray didn’t need to tell him what sport he was into. What a tedious display. 

Of course, they were also the kind to score, Jonathan thought and shook his head. His eyes drifted, and then he noticed that there was someone else at the table. Unlike his companions that seemed as rambunctious as kids functioning on a megaton of candy, this one lounged in his seat, one arm wrapped lazily around the back of his buddy’s seat, and one long denim-clad leg stretched outside the table, right into the walking path of other pedestrians.

Jonathan’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the student’s other hand fiddling with some white stick stuck into his mouth. Was that a cigarette? Really? 

No, it was a lollipop, Jonathan realized. And perfect lips were wrapping around it with lustful abandon.

Lustful abandon? He needed to have his head checked. The guy was just enjoying his lollipop. Unnerved by where his thoughts were taking him so early in the day, Jonathan continued to examine the student. Rebellious ink-black hair covered his eyes, but a chiseled jawline and a tanned complexion were visible from that distance even. There was something playful and mischievous in how he rolled the candy in his mouth, only to retract it now and then to exchange a joke with his friends. And in his moves, something languid and predatory lurked, a proof of the devil-may-care attitude that appeared to define this particular character.

Apparently, he was much in a lyrical disposition today, so Jonathan decided not to fight it. Nothing could go wrong if he only looked at that perfect specimen of the male variety. He kept in a small snort at the sight of the rolled-up t-shirt sleeves. So the perfect specimen was kind of a douche, no wonder there. Not that his impressive biceps weren’t worth showing, or his perfect pectorals, clearly visible through the white t-shirt so glued to him that it looked more like a second skin and less an article of clothing.

There was a place and time for everything, including showing off one’s assets, but lunch in the college dining hall wasn’t one of them.

“Who’s that?” Jonathan asked, suddenly aware that he had tuned out Ray’s chatter while lost in admiring that student.

“That’s Maddox Kingsley,” Ray replied, excited that finally, Jonathan seemed interested in something he knew. “Or Mad Dawg, as people call him.”

“Mad Dog?”

“No, no, no,” Ray said with self-importance. “Say it with me. Mad Dawg.” He drawled the words like an extra in a gangster movie.

“As you say,” Jonathan replied. “What sports is he into? He hangs out with other jocks, so--”

“He’s not actually a jock. What he is into,” Ray leaned over the table and dropped his voice, “is actually illegal fights.”

“I call bullocks on that.”

“Call whatever you want. But he’s wild, dangerous, and all the girls want him.”

“Can’t say that I’m surprised.”

Ray didn’t seem to catch on to the sarcasm in his voice. “The point is, he’s the best, the ultimate, the BMOC.”

“Do you mind using plain English?”

“The big man on campus,” Ray said in a tone that was suggesting that Jonathan had just crawled from under a rock. “We need to become friends with him.”

“No, we don’t,” Jonathan retorted.

“Why?” Ray eyed him with suspicion.

Because Maddox, Mad Dawg, or whatever his moniker, was a nightmare dressed in a tight t-shirt that left nothing to the imagination regarding the perfect anatomy of his upper body. If he were to take after the long leg stretched as an obstacle for the other students happening by was any indication, the lower part had to be just as well built. Jonathan had no intention to go down the same road again even if the guy were interested, which was out of the question since the mentioning of girls throwing themselves at him had made that aspect painfully clear.

“Because such guys would never hang out with us,” Jonathan attempted to let Ray down gently.

“Why?” Ray asked again.

“Because we’re good guys. They,” Jonathan pointed at the rowdy group, “are the bad boys. Oil and water. We don’t mix, okay? And I bet he’s peddling drugs or something. Just look how many people stop by. What could they want?”

Ray didn’t seem wholly convinced. “Xpress didn’t confirm the rumors on the drugs thing. Hey, I think I want another soda.”

So there was a drugs thing, not that Jonathan would believe everything some obscure tabloid was saying. But anything he could tell himself to stop drooling over a straight bad boy was worth taking into consideration.

“I’ll go,” Jonathan offered. He didn’t need another soda; he would have plain water if they had such a thing.

***