The university courtyard buzzed with the hum of early morning chatter, a sea of students weaving through paths lined with ancient oaks and manicured flowerbeds. Max strode through the chaos with the confidence of a man who owned the place, his bare feet slapping against the cool stone, the morning breeze kissing every inch of his exposed skin. He was stark naked, as always, his body on full display while the world around him seemed blissfully indifferent to his state of undress. Backpacks swung, coffee cups steamed, and not a single eyebrow raised at the sight of him. Just another day at Cresthaven University, where the "naturalist code" was less a suggestion and more an unspoken law—at least for him.
Near the central fountain, a group of frat guys lounged on the edge, their smirks widening as Max approached. One of them, a beefy dude with a backward cap, nudged his buddy before reaching out and landing a sharp slap on Max’s bare backside as he passed. The crack of skin on skin echoed, followed by a burst of laughter.
“Damn, man, that’s some prime real estate!” the guy hooted, his friends doubling over as if it were the wittiest thing they’d heard all week.
Max didn’t flinch, didn’t even break stride. He rolled his eyes hard enough to sprain something, muttering under his breath, “I swear, I need a personal space bubble. Or a cattle prod.” His voice dripped with dry irritation, but he’d been through this song and dance enough times to know reacting only fueled the fire.
Ahead, under the shade of a sprawling tree, his best friend Theo leaned casually against the trunk, a lazy grin splitting his face as he waved Max over. Theo’s dark eyes glinted with mischief, his tousled hair catching the sunlight as he called out, “Yo, campus free exhibit! You gonna charge admission today or what?”
Max snorted, closing the distance between them. “Only if you’re buying, perv. What’s the going rate for a front-row seat these days?”
Theo laughed, digging into his bag and pulling out a shiny red apple. He tossed it with a flick of his wrist, the fruit arcing through the air. “Here, put this on. It’s the only thing you can ‘wear’ without breaking tradition.” As Max caught it, Theo’s hand brushed casually over his bare shoulder, lingering just a second too long.
Max snatched the apple mid-air, taking a loud, deliberate bite as he shot Theo a sidelong glance. “Keep those wandering hands on a leash, buddy, or I’ll start charging for touchy-feely tours.”
Theo smirked, unfazed, his gaze dipping briefly before meeting Max’s eyes again. “Can’t help it, man. You’re a walking distraction. How am I supposed to focus on econ when I’ve got… all this in my line of sight?”
“Try harder,” Max quipped, crunching into the apple again as they started toward the lecture hall. But even as he bantered, he felt the familiar heat of eyes on him, the weight of being perpetually exposed. It wasn’t just Theo—half the campus seemed to think his body was public property.
As they crossed the quad, Professor Hargrove, a wiry man with salt-and-pepper hair, passed by, his briefcase swinging at his side. He gave Max a curt nod, his lips twitching into something like approval. “Good to see your dedication to the university’s naturalist code, Mr. Carver,” he said, his tone academic but his eyes lingering a little too long as he adjusted his glasses for a better view.
Max felt a flush creep up his neck, hot and unwelcome, but he kept his chin high and his smirk sharp. “Thanks, Prof. Maybe focus on grading papers instead of grading bodies, yeah? I’m not your midterm project.”
Hargrove chuckled, a dry, dusty sound, before continuing on his way. Theo elbowed Max lightly, muttering, “Man, even the faculty’s got a thing for you. You’re a walking scandal.”
“Tell me about it,” Max grumbled, shoving the last of the apple core into his mouth as they entered the lecture hall. The room was already half-full, the air thick with the scent of cheap cologne and stale coffee. Max slid into a seat near the middle, the cold metal of the chair biting into his bare skin. He winced, shifting uncomfortably as a few classmates around him snickered under their breath.
Behind him, a guy named Derek—some jock type with a penchant for crude humor—leaned forward, his breath hot on Max’s ear as he whispered, “Yo, Max, those front-row assets are stealing the show. You moonlighting as a model or what?” For emphasis, he tugged playfully at Max’s arm, his fingers grazing bare skin.
Max whipped around with a mock glare, his voice low but cutting. “Keep your paws to yourself, Derek, unless you want a front-row seat to a knuckle sandwich. I’m not your personal petting zoo.”
Derek laughed, raising his hands in surrender, but the glint in his eye said he wasn’t entirely deterred. Max turned back to the front, trying to ignore the way every brush of fabric from nearby students felt amplified against his exposed skin. A girl to his left adjusted her scarf, the edge grazing his thigh “accidentally.” A guy to his right shifted in his seat, his elbow brushing Max’s side. It was relentless, a constant reminder of his vulnerability in a room full of clothed bodies.
When the lecture finally broke for a ten-minute breather, Max was halfway to zoning out when a shadow fell over him. He looked up to find Jace, a bold classmate with a reputation for never mincing words, standing there with a smirk that could melt steel. Jace’s eyes roamed over Max shamelessly, appraising him like a piece of fine art. “Hey, Max,” he drawled, voice low and suggestive. “How ‘bout we skip the next snooze-fest and study anatomy later? Private session. My place.”
Max barked out a laugh, leaning back in his chair with a cocky tilt to his head. “Oh, Jace, you couldn’t handle the full curriculum even if I drew you a damn diagram. Stick to Intro to Flirting—you’re barely passing as it is.”
Jace grinned, undeterred, his eyes flashing with challenge. “Bet I’d ace the practical exam, though. Think about it, Carver. I’m a quick study.” He winked before sauntering back to his seat, leaving Max with a strange thrill buzzing under his skin. The flirtation was brazen, sure, but there was something about Jace’s confidence that made Max’s pulse kick up a notch, even if he’d never admit it.
As the lecture resumed, Max gathered his things, his notebook and pen the only barriers between him and the world. His mind wandered far from the professor’s droning voice, circling back to the same question that had haunted him since freshman orientation: Why was he the only one bare in a campus full of clothed men? Everyone else seemed to take the “naturalist code” as a quirky tradition, a passing joke, but for Max, it was a reality he couldn’t escape. Was there more to this so-called tradition than anyone was letting on? And if so, who was pulling the strings?
He slung his bag over his shoulder, the weight of it rubbing against his bare skin as he headed for the door. Whatever the truth was, Max had a feeling he was about to stumble into something far bigger—and far more exposed—than he’d ever bargained for.
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