Author's Note:
This story contains themes of homosexuality. If this offends you, don't read it. I haven't decided how explicit I'm going to be with the physical side of things (I personally think I suck at writing sex, so we'll see)
This will also contain strong language, and alcohol use.
Kindly review even if you don't review kindly (but be constructive, please)
My hope is that they will get progressively longer.

Why do they always hangout right in front of the door? Ben Mason thought grumpily as he approached the entrance to the science building, stomping through the first real snow fall of the season. He was already late to class, a class he that at this point in his second semester of freshman year at Princeton, was currently in danger of failing, which was pretty much a first for him. He didn't know what it was, but he just couldn't concentrate lately. He was doing very well in History (of course, his father would have killed him if he got anything less than A in THAT class), English was always easy, Math was something he had to work at, but was doing well in that too even so. But there was something about this biology class that he just couldn't wrap his head around. And he LIKED biology.

All of that flashed through his mind momentarily as he tried to slip past the big group of smokers currently blocking the door. Trying to get through without drawing attention to himself, always his preferred method was an exercise in futility as far as he could tell. One, who he could only see from the back, currently, was directly in front of the entranceway. A tall, short-cut but shaggy haired male with dark hair and pale skin, he was talking animatedly and profanely with the young man standing next to him. Ben groaned and finally spoke, "Hey. Do you mind moving, some of us have to get to class…"

He abruptly stopped speaking when the lanky other young man turned around. Brushing hair away from his face, the other guy fixed his ice blue-eyed gaze onto Ben. Oh great. Him. Ben thought. The other boy was in his class. He was always late, always left early. But when he was there he spent the whole class interrupting the professor to correct something or ask obtrusive questions to which he obviously already knew the answer. The fact that he always right did nothing to improve Ben's disposition towards him. He had to admit he was biased because in middle school Ben was that kid always correcting the teacher, until some of the other students had introduced him to the inside of his locker, not releasing him until he agreed to never again ask the question "Is there homework tonight?" From then on Ben had dedicated himself to being as invisible as possible to anybody outside his own group of friends. Not always the easiest thing to do when you were the little brother of the star player on the lacrosse team.

Ben, who always sat in the back so he could take his notes without being interrupted by somebody asking for a pen or some such aggravation, had never before come face to face with this guy. Jack? Johnny? James? Something with a J, I know that. Ben wondered to himself. Those thoughts ran out of his head as he briefly met the eyes of the other boy. Those steely eyes seemed to lock onto Ben. They ran down the length and up again of all of Ben, as if they were grading him. Ben felt a flush run across that his cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold wind. He didn't know what it had to do with. Ben looked down and started playing some gravel with his shoes.

"You wanted something?" The other boy inquired as he smirked at Ben.

"Um…yeah…I kind of need to get to class. Uh, our class…" Ben fumbled out. Damn it. Why couldn't seem to string a sentence together? "I'm already sort of late and I don't want to miss anything-"

The boy looked puzzled as he ground his cigarette out under his heel. "Class? What class? I don't have a class right now…oh wait. Biology. Right. You're the kid who always sits in the back and writes whole treatises of notes while that idiot drones on. Back-Seat-Blond-Kid. That's what I call you in my head anyway." Ben felt a hand grip him on the shoulder and he looked up. "Well, come on Back-Seat-Blond-Kid, wouldn't want you to miss any of the crap the professor tries to pass off as facts." Suddenly Ben was being dragged through the door, into the heated building.

After shaking the snow off himself and putting down his bag Ben, who had quietly slipped in, took his customary seat in the very back row. He heard rustling next to him. This was weird, because usually nobody sat next to him. He turned slightly and saw J (how he was mentally referring to boy with blue eyes until he could remember the guy's name) sitting down in the seat next to him. Ben flushed again, suddenly glad that he was at least a little tan so the blush wasn't super noticeable on his cheeks. What the hell was going on today?

"Hey, Back-Seat. Got a pen I can borrow?" Oddly, even though this was exactly why he sat back here, the question didn't immediately cause Ben to get annoyed. Sighing, Ben nodded and handed the dark-haired boy one of the many pens he carried around in his backpack.

"Here, and my name isn't Back-Seat. It's Ben." The boy smirked again, fixing his icy gaze on Ben. Ben started to feel really hot, and started fidgeting, trying to avoid the other's eyes.

"I'm Jimmy."