Page 45 of Hunter's Hidden Camera
The pile shifts again, and the bedding slides down to reveal Nash’s face. He’s lying in bed, sleeping, and he’s now unconsciously adjusting his body to find a more comfortable position.
Nash has always been a heavy sleeper, and somehow he has managed to sleep through the knocking, through Oscar breaking the window, through us talking. I suppose the comedown from doing coke last night also helped to keep him conked out.
I look at Oscar, and he’s terrified. I hold out my hand at him, indicating that we both should not move a muscle until Nash settles down.
Nash stops moving. He returns to his deep sleep.
Oscar and I both release a quiet breath. We have to use this moment to get the hell out of here.
But Nash starts moving again. His eyes still closed, still in an unconscious state, he kicks all of the bedding off of him,exposing his entire body. He’s now spread out on his back, taking up the whole mattress. He’s wearing nothing but boxer shorts, and he’s got a huge erection, pushing the fabric towards the ceiling.
Oscar immediately shifts his eyes down to the floor.
Nash rustles again, and his cock pops out through the front hole of his boxer shorts. And there it is, in all its glory. The Leaning Tower of Dick.
I try not to look, but I see everything out of the corner of my eye.
Still unaware that there are two guys in his room, Nash mumbles in his sleep. He moves his hand down to his cock. He starts stroking it. There’s too much friction, so he licks his palm and then moves his hand back down and keeps going. He moans in pleasure, but he’s still in a state between sleeping and waking. He’s not sleepwalking—he’s sleep-masturbating.
Oscar makes eye contact with me. He mouths, silently, “What the fuck?”
I hold up a finger, telling him we have to wait for my brother to totally fall back asleep so that we can get out of here.
Oscar looks at the floor again. He’s super uncomfortable.
Nash releases a final moan and finishes onto his stomach. Eyes still closed, he reaches down onto the floor and grabs a dirty T-shirt to wipe himself clean. He then tosses the shirt aside. It glides through the air and hits Oscar’s arm.
Startled, Oscar flinches, yanks his arm back, and his elbow slams against the wall, causing a very noticeable THUD.
“What?” Nash mumbles.
His eyes shoot open. He looks groggy and disoriented. He looks in my direction, but because his eyes have not adjusted to the darkness he can’t make out who I am.
Nash yells, “Who the fuck areyou?!”
I pull the door wide open, causing the light from the hallway to spill in and pierce Nash’s eyes. He closes them, while stumbling out of bed.
I run down the hallway, and I hear Oscar close behind me.
I turn down another hallway. I look behind me. Oscar moves quickly, carrying my brother’s laptop in one hand.
We speed past the reception counter, surprising the two students working there, and burst out the front entrance. We both instinctually move in the direction of where my car is—but we immediately stop.
There’s a police car parked next to the sidewalk. A female student and a male police officer are standing next to the vehicle. She’s explaining something to him and pointing in the direction of my brother’s window, where Oscar climbed in. She then spots Oscar and points at him. The officer looks at Oscar and me.
The front doors of Walker Hall fly open, and Nash, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, comes out, blocking his eyes from the high noon sun.
I don’t have to tell Oscar what to do. We’ve been on the track team since freshman year. Some things are just in our blood, in our bones, in our souls. Both of us start running.
21
Pool
The more Oscar and I run, the deeper we get into campus. Earlier, we heard footsteps close behind us (that police officer? Nash?). But now, we seem to be in the clear. After all, we’re two of the best track athletes on campus. There was no way that portly cop and my brother, in bare feet, were going to outrun us. But of course, neither of us knows for sure, because neither of us have turned around since we dashed away from Walker Hall.
We approach what looks like some kind of sports complex and round the corner to the side of the structure. We finally slow down to catch our breaths and press our backs against the wall so that we’re out of view.
I take a peek back out to the wide open space in the middle of campus. The officer and Nash are nowhere to be seen. There are just a few students walking back and forth.
