Page 29 of The Hookup Situation

There’s a fucking ginormous trophy case on the wall to the left and dozens of photos of the school’s athletes from now all the way back to when the school was founded.

I take a breath and open the door to the room in front of me. The smell of sweat, baking soda and whatever air freshener they’re using — lemon I think — assaults me as soon as I do, and it’s so strong I’m almost blindsided by it.

After a second of gathering myself I stare at the rows upon rows of bleachers off to each side. They’re not packed like I assume they would be for a real game, but there are dozens of people here scattered about. The teams are on the sidelines in huddles and I’m assuming they’re doing the usual pep talks and getting themselves hyped up.

I feel my heart rate picking up as my gaze rakes over the crowd of onlookers. If there was ever a place where I feeloutof place, this is it. With my multitudes of jewelry, biker boots, black pants and white v-neck shirt under a black leather jacket, I’m not really giving off the sporty vibe. Everyone here is wearing track pants, sweats, or jeans and sneakers, and I’m definitely the only guy in makeup.

I’m tempted to listen to my anxiety and leave, but visions of a sweaty, half naked Preston spur me on and I make myself climb the steps, and then shuffle through the crowd until I find a seat in the center near the top with plenty of space on either side. I’m not a fan of sitting right next to total strangers.

I’m getting a few looks from the other spectators, probably wondering if I walked into the wrong building.

But I’m drawn away from their judgmental gazes when the teams start to move out onto the floor, six on each side. Each team has a few subs on the sidelines, but the floor is a mixture of college students and professors, men and women, all dressed in exercise shorts of some form and either T-shirts or tank tops. They also all have knee pads on.

My attention is of course drawn to the gorgeous blond in the red shorts, gray tank top, and purple ball cap, worn backwards, tattoos on display. He’s not shirtless, which is a bummer, but the muscle tank top might actually be sexier, giving me a very nice view of his pecs through the oversized arm holes. On the front it reads.I flexed and the sleeves fell off. I can’t help chuckling slightly at that, and when he turns and scans the crowd, his gaze landing on me, I flush like crazy and bite my lip as a wide smile spreads across his face. Goddamn he’s cute. Butterflies fill my stomach as he winks at me and then turns back to facing the net. He’s in the front left position, two players to his right and three behind him, and the other team is about to serve.

I have my hands in my coat pockets, but as soon as the ball is over the net and onto Preston’s side, I find myself gripping the bleacher underneath me, tight with anticipation as the players’ shoes squeak across the floor, moving to intercept the ball before it hits the ground. A girl in the back row bumps the volleyball up and directly above the girl in the front center, who uses both of her hands set close together, palms up and fingers spread to lobby it up in front of Preston. I watch as he moves, his timing perfect as the ball comes down slightly and he jumps, hitting it with the palm of his hand so hard I almost flinch as a girl on the other side dives for it, making good use of her knee pads. It keeps going like that, being volleyed back and forth over the net, until Preston hits it again and this time it lands on the floor on the opposite side and the scoreboard changes to 1 and 0 as his teammates cheer and give him high fives. Holy hell that was intense, and fucking amazing.

Since I’ve never played volleyball before or even seen a match, I really wasn’t sure what to expect, but watching Preston play is exhilarating, and while I don’t really know what a good volleyball player looks like, I can tell he is one. And yeah, he’s hot as hell out there, too, sweat dripping down his forehead andneck, his muscular arms flexing with each powerful hit. I was definitely not expecting to get a boner from this, but here we are.

The team members rotate clockwise every time it’s their turn to serve, which means they have just earned a point as well because the ball landed on the other team’s side, usually from a player hitting it over really hard like Preston did, which I’m learning from a quick search on the internet is called a spike, or a block, which is where one player attempts to spike it and the player on the opposite side jumps up, hands raised and keeps it from coming over to their side. But there have been some other amazing plays too, like last minute tips over the net that are unexpected and make the crowd go wild. I’m surprised how invested everyone is in this game since it’s just for fun, but it’s honestly really exciting.

When it’s Preston’s turn to serve he makes it look easy, tossing the ball in the air and then jumping to hit it, before he switches places with the player in the front left.

Apparently the game has three sets and they play the best two out of three, the first two going to twenty-five points and the third going to only fifteen if they need a tie-breaker.

Right now it’s still the first set and the score is twenty-two to twenty with Preston’s team, the biology department I guess, in the lead.

God, I can’t get enough of watching him, and he looks like he’s having the time of his life, which makes me smile.

The biology department wins the first match and the chemistry department wins the second which means there’s going to be one more and it’s getting serious, so much cheering and shouting, the crowd on the edge of their seats when the teams return to the sidelines for a short timeout before the final match.

I may be drooling a tad at the sight of Preston chugging water, his Adam's apple bobbing and his skin flushed and dampwith sweat. I have to hold back a groan when I remember what it feels like to suck on that bump and hear him moan as I do, or the way he grips my shoulders as those lips feast on mine.

He takes his ball cap off and swipes his fingers through his sweaty hair, then dribbles some water from his water bottle on it before placing the cap back on his head.

I’ve never really been the type of guy who finds another guy sweating attractive, but mother of mercy, if anyone is going to make me change my mind, it’s him.

I can't believe how fucking nervous I am after the teams come back out to the court and the players take their places once again, with the same lineup they had at the beginning of the first match, though they’ve substituted players throughout the game to give everyone a chance.

Jesus, why is my heart beating so damn hard? I’m gripping the bleacher so tightly my knuckles are white, and I can’t stop my leg from moving up and down, a nervous habit I’ve had since I was a kid. I’m chewing my bottom lip so much it’s going to be bleeding at the end of this game if I’m not careful.

The game is neck and neck the entire time and the teams are both doing amazing jobs, playing their hearts out and making us gasp and cheer and clap enthusiastically.

My heart feels like it’s in my throat when it’s fourteen to fourteen and the chemistry department has the ball, getting ready to serve it over to Preston’s team. Whoever wins this round wins the match, and the game. If the ball lands on Preston’s team’s side, they lose. If it lands on the chemistry team’s side, the biology team wins.

The girl on the chemistry team does a perfect serve that goes to the back corner on the other side and gets set up for the same routine of bump, set, spike. I can’t believe these are all chemistry and biology majors and professors and not the school’s athletesbecause they are honestly so good, it makes me wonder what our actual athletes must play like.

Preston jumps and hits it over the net, where it gets bumped back into play and they do the same thing, their spike getting blocked but bumped back up, getting ready for another spike. The guy across the net from Preston is tall, and has clearly played before, but so has Preston. He leaves his feet a second before Preston does, his arm raised and his palm coming down as Preston leaves his feet, both hands in the air.

The spike comes in contact with Preston’s large hands, and it happens so fast I don’t even realize I’m on my feet when it falls to the ground on the chemistry department’s side, before anyone is quick enough to recover it.

Everyone is on their feet with me and it’s so loud I can’t even hear my own cheering over the uproar, but it’s such an incredible feeling.

Preston’s teammates crowd around him, giving him praise, and he grins so wide as he high fives them and accepts shoulder pats and slaps on his back.

Then he’s meeting my gaze again and I swear his grin gets wider, but it’s so brief, before the teams are meeting in the middle and slapping hands in a show of good sportsmanship.

God, that was incredible.

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