Page 31 of The Hookup Situation

“Can you make sure? Please?”

He nods again.

I bite my lip, hating the awkwardness between us. “You were really incredible out there tonight,” I say, trying to make the situation a little lighter.

I get a small smile from him and he meets my gaze again, so I count it as a win. “Thanks.”

I dip a french fry in some ketchup and then pop it into my mouth. “Where did you learn to play volleyball like that?”

He flushes and his smile widens. “I played in junior high and high school. We had a guys volleyball team. Did a camp every summer, too.”

“That explains the tattoo on your wrist then.”

He glances at the sunflower on his wrist with the volleyball in the center. “Yeah, a few of the guys on my high school team got them junior year after we won a big tournament. Glad I got it, too, because with everything happening with my parents I ended up not playing senior year.”

“Shit, that sucks. It must have been hard, giving it up.” I could tell from the first ten minutes watching him tonight that he was in his element. I can’t imagine how it must have felt to lose that. He was so focused, so intense, and yet smiled non-stop too, and encouraged his teammates. I can absolutely see him being a coach some day.

“Yeah, it was. My parents didn’t want me to quit, but I needed to be there for them and Paris, and it would have taken up a lot of my time and energy. I don’t regret it at all, but I do miss it. Getting back out there tonight was a lot of fun.” He grins again, his eyes bright, and it makes those butterflies fill my stomach once more.

“Thank you for inviting me. It was really fun to watch. Anxiety inducing, too, though. I almost wet myself there at the end.”

He laughs, warm and genuine and I smile. “Yeah, the games can get pretty intense.”

“Paris, he’s your brother?”

He nods, chewing on his burger.

“Your other tattoos have stories to them?” I ask, taking a bite of my own burger.

“Yeah, the Phoenix and the heart with the wings are for my other brother.”

“You have another brother? Besides Paris?”

“Had,” he corrects with a sad smile. “He passed away six years ago.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Was he older or younger?”

“Two years older. He had epilepsy, and was on a school trip and he had a seizure while he was in the water. By the time they found him it was too late.”

“Fuck.” Why does knowing he went through that make my chest squeeze and my arms itch to be around him? “His name was Phoenix?”

Preston nods.

“You must really miss him.”

“Every day,” he says, and that need to hold him close intensifies. Why do I love that idea so much? Being the one who comforts him?

“You guys had a couple of really shitty years there,” I say instead.

He chuckles a little. “We did, and I honestly don’t know how we got through it sometimes, but my parents were amazing, and it actually brought us closer as a family. We did some pretty intense therapy there for a while and that helped.”

I feel a pang in my chest for a completely different reason hearing his words. My own parents haven’t bothered calling or texting in months. I haven’t heard from them since I called Mom to tell her about getting the part in the play, and I’m supposed to be going home for Thanksgiving break in a couple of weeks. It’s so nice to know that the people you’re going home to don’t give a rat’s ass about what’s going on in your life enough to pick up a fucking phone. The idea of spending another Thanksgivingalone because they’re either working, getting wasted with their friends or sleeping off whatever fun they had the night before, once again without me, is not at all appealing, and I find myself feeling a bit jealous of Preston and his family.

“Jax,” I hear and blink. Preston is looking at me. “Hey, you okay?” he asks. “You zoned out there.”

“Sorry,” I reply, giving a smile that I hope is convincing. “I’m fine. Tell me more about your parents. What do they do?”

“My mom’s name is Pamela, and my dad’s name is Phillip.”

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