Page 2 of Tiny Fractures

“I don’t know, maybe.” I shrug. “Why?”

“Because I just overheard her telling her friend how hot you are,” Shane says, still grinning at me. Shane has always been the best wingman. I’m the only one in our group of seven who isn’t in a relationship.

“Oh yeah?” I look past Shane through the wall-to-ceiling glass windows that give a perfect view of the home’s interior. It’s huge—the driveway alone screams money, and Shane’s family definitely has that. Though Shane is about as down-to-earth and unimpressed by his parents’ money as they come; he understands full well that his parents worked hard to get where they are, that everything was earned and nothing was given.

A few people mingle in the modern, all-white, stainless-steel kitchen, and I spot the girl Shane’s talking about.

“Yeah. Heads-up, though: her friend goes to school with us and was trying to tell her that you’re a—and I quote—‘man whore.’” Shane laughs. “She told her friend that you don’t do girlfriends, only hookups. Ran, your reputation precedes you.”

“She’s not wrong,” I say. “What did the brunette say in response?” I’m still checking her out through the window. She’s attractive, short and petite. Her brown hair frames her face and skims her shoulders, which are covered by a tight-fitting V-neck shirt that leaves little to the imagination. A pair of curve-hugging jeans finishes off her outfit.

“She didn’t seem to care what her friend had to say; she just kept ogling you through the window.”

Sure enough, the brunette’s eyes find mine as Shane is talking. A smile spreads across her face before she looks back to her friend.

“I’m going to grab another drink,” I say, and get up off the sofa.

“See you in an hour,” Zack says, grinning.

“Nah, thirty minutes max,” I hear Shane say as I walk into the house.

I make my way into the kitchen to strike up a conversation with the brunette, whose name turns out to be Sunny.

I’m not really sure how to feel about all of this. I never meant to be the guy girls warn their friends about; I never meant to be the guy who just hooks up without any meaningful connection or relationship, but here I am. And honestly, it’s better that way.

***

“Before we do this,” I say when Sunny and I are in one of the guest bedrooms, “you need to know that I’m not going to call you after this. And you’re not going to call me.” It didn’t take long for us to end up here. We chatted for ten minutes, but we both quickly got to the point and decided to find somewhere private, leaving her friend to walk out of the kitchen with a huff.

“That’s what I figured,” she says, already breathless, half-undressed, her bare chest fitfully rising and falling as she leans in for another kiss. Then she slips her right hand into my jeans and begins to stroke me.

I reach behind me and pull open the second dresser drawer where I know Shane has a stash of condoms. I always keep a pack in my car; I stopped carrying them around with me in my wallet when I heard that body heat may diminish their effectiveness. But when Shane repeatedly noticed me heading to my car to grab protection, he took it upon himself to keep each bathroom and guest bedroom of his mom’s beach house well-stocked, telling me with a suggestive grin that he had my back.

“You’re prepared,” Sunny breathes against my lips, increasing the pressure with her hand.

“Uh-huh,” I groan. I push her panties down her hips and back us up to the queen-sized bed. I don’t fuck around without condoms, especially when I don’t really know the girl I’m about to hook up with. Sex is great and all, but not great enough to risk getting a girl pregnant or catching a disease.

Sunny and I spend maybe thirty minutes in the room, each getting what we came here for, and after catching our breath we get dressed without much conversation.

“Well,” she finally says with a content smile on her face as we’re about to depart the bedroom, “I wouldn’t mind a repeat of this some time, but I hear that’s not really your style.”

“Sorry, not really,” I admit with a frown, feeling shitty. I mostly feel like crap after hookups. They obviously feel good in the moment, but they don’t sustain me. I’m not even really sure why I do it other than to scratch the itch—and because I can, I guess. I don’t know.

“Yeah,” she says, and lets her gaze roam my body. “It felt freaking amazing, though. So thank you.”

I walk her back out of the room and make sure she finds her friend. “I’ll see you around, Sunny,” I say.

She smiles sweetly. “I’d like that,” she says, and hooks her arm under her friend’s before walking away.

“Forty-seven minutes. Pay up!” Steve says to Shane and Zack the moment I rejoin my friends and sit my ass back on the sofa.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” I ask, looking around at my brother and friends.

“They had a bet on how long you’d be gone with her.” Vada shakes her head. “Zack said an hour, Shane said thirty minutes, so Steve came in at the halfway point.”

“Was she good?” Zack asks as he pulls a twenty out of his wallet and hands it to my brother.

“Forget it, man.” Shane throws his balled-up twenty at Steve. “Ran doesn’t kiss and tell.”

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