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Move in day, Ray has quickly decided, should really just be one day. Because apparently literally nobody actually moves in until the last day. Ray didn’t get the memo about that, so now he’s stuck here on day 2 of 3, with the building practically empty and neither his roommate nor either of his suitemates are here yet.
To make matters worse, Ray forgot the wash his clothes before he packed, and he can’t find a place to put in a detergent pod or a coin, no matter how hard he looks, so he’s really just stuck hoping his college is the most generous in the world and somehow, for some reason, has washing machines that require neither. He puts the first load of his clothes into the washer as an experiment and turns it on, making his way to a chair near the side of the room to sit and wait.
He scrolls on his phone for a few minutes before his eyes catch on another person—the first other student he’s seen since he moved in, seriously why is no one here yet—and he can’t help but stare for a moment. The guy’s got arms that make Ray want to drool, a face that’s just naturally confident enough to make Ray feel slightly insane without seeming necessarily arrogant, and a scar spanning the right side of his face that just adds to how legitimately perfect he looks. Ray’s mouth goes slightly dry as he scrambles to stand up, determined to introduce himself.
“Hey, uh, I’m Ray Garraty,” he greets as he approaches the other man. The guy smiles at him and fuck, of course he has a nice smile too. Ray is so fucked. He reaches out his hand to the other guy.
He turns to look at Ray, and Ray is pretty sure he sees him checking Ray out. He has to bite back a smile of his own at that.
“Pete. Peter McVries,” the man answers, shaking Ray’s hand. Ray realizes belatedly that, judging by Pete’s amused look, shaking hands is probably not something people actually do when they first meet here.
“Nice to meet you,” Ray responds, trying not to let it seem too dopey. He really needs to get it together. Pete moves his own clothes from one of the washing machines into a dryer as Ray tries to work up the nerve to ask him out.
He doesn’t get the chance, however, because pretty soon Pete says, “I’m headin’ out, have to work.”
“Got a job lined up already, Pete?” Ray asks, surprised. Pete doesn’t answer, already out the door to the laundromat before Ray even finishes his sentence.
For some reason, Ray feels strangely empty without Pete nearby. He finds himself hoping they’ll run into each other again soon.
He only has to wait until the second day of classes. He enters his Comp class and sure enough, he finds Pete sitting smack dab in the middle, an empty seat to his right. Ray scrambles to get to it before someone else takes it, then attempts to slow down and make it seem less obvious that that’s what he was doing.
“Hey, Pete,” he greets as he sits down. Pete nods at him, and Ray is slightly giddy to realize that Pete unconsciously scoots just a little closer to him.
He spares a moment to look at the people sitting next to them, and his eyebrows raise when he sees the blonde guy sitting on his other side. “Jesus,” he mutters, and Pete turns to look as well. The guy’s got even more muscles than Pete, though he doesn’t pull off the look quite as well. “Hey, what’s your name?”
Blondie looks like a deer in headlights, the classic ‘who, me?’ Ray nods impatiently, and he awkwardly answers, “Stebbins,” then turns away again.
“Not much for talking,” Pete notes, and suddenly Ray’s a lot less interested in getting to know Stebbins. Funny how that works.
“His loss,” the guy sitting next to Pete interjects. “The name’s Hank Olson.”
Ray smiles politely at him and offers his own name. Pete, in turn, responds with, “Peter McVries. You can call me McVries.”
Ray feels a little thrill run down his spine. McVries, not Pete. He likes me better, Ray thinks for a moment, then feels childish for having thought it. Still, he scoots just a little bit closer to Pete.
“I’m Art Baker,” says the guy sitting next to Hank. “Pleasure to meet y’all.”
The professor walks in before they have a chance to say anything more. Ray only half listens to him drone on about the syllabus, and then, before he knows it, the class is over and everyone’s standing up.
“I don’t know about y’all,” Pete exclaims, “But I’m goddamn hungry. You wanna get something to eat?” Ray’s at least fifty percent sure he’s not just imagining the way Pete is mostly looking at him when he asks the question.
Hank grunts his agreement, but adds, “The food here sucks. No fuckin’ allergy-free options.”
Ray feels a little bad at that, though to be fair the normal food isn’t any good either. “How about we just go to the common area by my dorm? We can watch TV and I’ll order a pizza for us.”
“What show?” Art asks dubiously, as Hank thanks him for offering to pay for the pizza. Pete just looks at him, far too fondly for someone he’s talked to for all of five minutes in total.
“Robin Hood.” Before anyone can object to that, Ray reminds them, “I’m buying the pizza, I choose the show. But it’s a good show! It’s funny.”
“Boys, boys, settle down,” Pete jokes, despite no one having actually said anything in response to Ray’s suggestion. “How about this: Hank, you can have Chickfila?” At Hank’s nod, he continues, “There’s one at the student union. Let’s just walk over there. It’s covered under the meal plan.”
When they all agree, Pete starts to lead them out of the building and towards the student union. After a moment, Hank asks, “Hey, how long is this walk?”
“It’s only like fifteen minutes,” Pete reassures. Ray hears Hank and Art groan and laughs. “Come on, man. That’s barely even a walk. ‘Sides, we can keep each other company on the way.”
“Why don’t we just take the fuckin’ scooters?” Hank asks. Pete shakes his head like he’s disappointed in him, and Ray’s sure that he’s returning that entirely-too-fond smile. “They don’t even cost that much.”
The scooters do, in fact, cost that much. Ray’s heard horror stories. Pete and Ray exchange glances, and Art must give Hank a look, because he stops complaining for a moment.
“Ray,” Pete starts, putting on a little speed so that he’s getting farther and farther in front of Hank and Art. Ray instinctively matches his pace. “Wanna walk with me awhile?”
Ray grins at him, walking closer so that he’s brushing against Pete’s side. Pete lets his arm rest on Ray’s shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, I do, Pete.”
“Seriously, man,” Hank cuts in, apparently having gotten bored of not complaining. “My fuckin’ feet are hurting. Let’s just use the scooters.”
“I’m not using the scooters, Olson,” Ray insists. Pete doesn’t even say anything, like that answers for him, too. Art nods his head in agreement.
“Fine,” Olson huffs. “Suit yourself. I’m gonna get my Chickfila.” With that, he steps off the sidewalk and wanders out of sight, presumably to find another one of the rentable scooters.
“Does he even know how to get to the student union?” Art asks in concern. Pete laughs, shaking his head, and Art continues, “I’m gonna go help him. I can just use google maps to find it.”
“No!” Ray complains, grabbing onto Art’s shoulder as he attempts to head off in the direction that Hank left in. “Are you really gonna leave me too? Leave us bored, having to entertain ourselves?”
Art deflates at that and nods. “You’re right, Garraty. I’ll keep walking with you.” Somehow, it doesn’t sound quite as nice coming from Art as it did with Pete, but he ignores that.
“So, Ray,” Pete starts after a moment. “Where you from?” He’s still got his arm around Ray’s shoulder, and Ray has to force himself not to lean into it.
“Uh, I’m from around here,” he answers absently. “Freeport.”
“Oooh, so you the one,” Pete says decisively, like that explains everything. Ray squints at him with a small frown. “The hometown boy,” he explains. “There’s always one.”
“You’re going to college in Maine, Pete.” Ray huffs out a laugh. “I think there’s gonna be a lot more than one. Most of us are probably from here.”
“I’m from Baton Rouge,” Art offers. He is ignored.
“None quite like you, though, I’d wager. You’re a dear boy, Ray,” Pete tells him. Ray blushes at that. “I like you.”
“I like you too, Pete,” Ray beams.
Art groans from behind them. “You know what? That’s it.” Pete and Ray both turn to look back at him, confused, “I’m going home.”
Art heads off the road as he walks in the other direction, presumably looking for a scooter to take him back to the dorms. Pete shakes his head sadly, presumably imagining Art’s bank account after using the scooter. Ray grabs his hand comfortingly.
Before long, they make it to the student union. Before they can walk in the door, Ray stops. Pete keeps walking for a moment, before he realizes and turns around in confusion.
“I like you, Pete,” Ray tells him once again, this time with more meaning, as Pete makes his way back towards Ray. “Do you want to go out with me? I’ll pay for your Chickfila.”
Pete doesn’t say anything, which Ray would take as a bad sign, except for the fact that he does nod, and he grabs Ray’s hand again. When they get to the Chickfila to order their food, Pete lets Ray pay for it, so Ray takes that as a yes.