Page 47 of The Hookup Situation

Me: I have something for you

Tinkerbell: What is it?

Me: Tell me your apartment number and find out

It’s been four days since the opening night ofThe Rocky Horror Picture Show, and since we stayed up way too late talking. It’s been even longer since we fucked. And even though I could have easily gone out and found someone else to fuck me, I didn’t want to. Not even a little bit. I don’t want anyone else’s hands or lips on me. I don’t want anyone else’s dick inside me. I don’t want to come for anyone but him.

We’ve texted or talked after the show every night since. It’s not sex, but honestly I think I enjoy it just as much, getting to know him. I’ve learned he likes classical music and jazz, that he’s obsessed with chocolate, loves thunderstorms, his favorite snacks include popcorn, Cheetos, and peanut butter and chocolate chips by the spoonful, and somehow I find that strangely endearing. I’ve learned that he prefersStar WarstoStar Trek,which I decide to forgive him for. I’ve also learned to my utter horror that he has never been sledding, or ice skating. Hell he’s never even built a snowman, so I vow to make sure at least one of those things happens before the snow melts.

Not until he’s feeling better, though. Jackson made it through the performances, but he pushed himself to do it, and he’s been under the weather for the last couple of days. We’ve taken to texting more and talking less because his throat is sore and he says he’s losing his voice, and the more he talks the more he coughs. I know he missed classes today to try and rest and I’m glad he did because he needed it.

He seemed so sad on the phone the first night we talked, and I hope that I’ve helped at least a little. The idea of him hurting guts me, and I can tell he doesn’t like talking about his family, so I’ve avoided asking him questions about his childhood or his parents.

Tinkerbell: 204

I grin and make my way up the stairs of the building I’ve been standing just inside for the past several minutes, waiting for him to respond. When I reach 204 I knock and hear a yelp coming from the inside that makes me laugh.

Then the door swings open and Jackson is standing there wrapped in a blanket over top red flannel pajama pants and a white T-shirt. On his feet are Darth Vader slippers. His nose is red and chapped and his skin is even more pale than usual. His raven hair is wild, and I decide I like it. The strangest thing, though, is seeing him without his jewelry and makeup. Like, none of it. Not even his nose ring is in. He looks so different, but still good. Well, I mean, I bet he would look good if he wasn’t scowling at me.

“What?” he asks, and his voice sounds so much like a dying frog that I can’t help laughing.

“Did I scare you?”

“Shut up.” It would be more menacing if he wasn’t squeaking it.

I laugh again and he slams the door in my face. I laugh harder. When I’ve calmed down a bit I knock again and the door flies open a second time.

“I brought you soup, and stuff to make tea.” I hold up the offerings and he blinks, then steps aside and lets me enter. “I won’t stay if you don’t want me to,” I tell him, making my way into the kitchen. “I just wanted to make sure you were taken care of.”

I’ve just gotten the soup in the microwave and am filling the tea kettle up with water when a very big, very attractive, very naked man enters the kitchen, and I almost drop the tea kettle.

“Uh, hello,” I say, glancing from him to Jackson, who is sitting on the sofa, curled up in his blanket. “You must not be that sick,” I tell Jackson.

I’m surprised how quickly Jackson shakes his head.

“I’m his roommate,” Naked Guy says, and holds out a hand. “Colby.”

“Oh.” I hold the full kettle in one hand and shake his hand with the other.

“I generally don’t wander around like this when company is here, but I didn’t know you were coming. I’ll go put something on.”

I blink. “Yeah, okay.”

“Your roommate, huh?” I say to Jackson and he nods. I find myself smiling and shaking my head. “He gay?”

He nods again.

“You want peppermint or chamomile?” I ask him, holding up the different packets, and he points. “Peppermint it is.”

I put the kettle on the stove and get the soup from the microwave, bringing it over to him. He moves his feet for me and I sit down on the couch, handing him the bowl and spoon. “It’s my mom’s recipe. Chicken noodle. It’s pretty good. She made it for me all the time when I was sick.”

He gives a soft smile and takes a bite. His eyes widen. I laugh.

“Good?”

He nods, then pauses. “You believe me don’t you?” he croaks. “About Colby? I’m not, I mean, we haven’t, ever. He’s really just my roommate.”

I’m kind of touched he’s so worried. Especially since we’re not exclusive, and while I don’t like the idea of him fucking other guys, I can’t get upset with him for it if he does. Hell, as far as I know he’s been fucking other guys this whole time. But the concern on his face tells me differently.

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