Page 23 of The Hookup Situation

He shakes his head, rolling onto his side to face me and propping himself up on his elbow, resting his head in his hand. “You’re seriously sexy. You know that, right? And fuck, that nipple piercing does things to me.”

I blush and give a soft smile, still feeling the dampness of his saliva on my nipple. “Give me your wrist.”

He does without hesitation and I take it in my hands, feeling his smooth, warm skin against my fingertips, massaging it. “You liked the cuffs?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause, and I keep rubbing his wrist, when he says, “I like your rings, and your nail polish.”

“Thank you.” I’ve never gotten compliments about either of those things before, outside of Lucy and Rory.

He sits up a bit more and grips my wrist now. “Is that Aragorn’s ring fromLOTR?” he asks.

I grin. “It is.”

“That’s so cool. Those movies are seriously the best.”

“He’s also the reason I realized I was gay, so,” I say with a shrug, and he laughs. He rolls out of bed and leaves the room, returning a minute later with two wet washcloths. He tosses one to me and uses the other on himself.

“I should go,” I say, after cleaning myself and my panties off as best I can. I shove my g-string in the pocket of my coat and start to dress.

“You sure? I don’t mind you staying for a bit.”

He seems disappointed, but the fact that everything in mewantsto stay is the very reason I know I can’t. “I’m beat, and it’s late.” I slide my pants on and grab my shirt, then find myself saying, “I have theater practice tomorrow until nine but I can see you after.”

He grins. “Sure thing, Tinkerbell.”

PRESTON

Fifteen minutes later I get a message on Grindr.

Theaterslut: 213-657-0321, hookups only.

I can’t stop smiling.

SEVEN

PRESTON

“Okay, so you’ll be driving home the Saturday before Thanksgiving, right?” Paris says into the phone as I make my way towards the campus library.

“Yep, that’s the plan.”

“Are you bringing Chris this time?”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure he’s going back to Minnesota to be with his family.” Freshman year Chris went home with me for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. Last year he came with me for Thanksgiving because his parents couldn’t afford to bring him home for both holidays so close together. There were a lot of students who stayed around campus for Thanksgiving, so he wouldn’t have been alone, but I didn’t see any reason for him not to come home with me and meet my family, and of course they had fallen in love with him. I’d brought him with me again over spring break. While most college students dream of Florida and endless partying, I just wanted to spend time with my family, and Chris was eager to join me and just relax.

Paris was a junior in high school and I think he thought of Chris as a big brother. They got along well and Chris was good to him. Even taught him how to ice skate over Thanksgiving break, which I had failed epically at.

“Right, yeah, that makes sense.” He sounds disappointed. “Hey, maybe we can go sledding? Or build a snowman? Ooh, or skating, now that I know how. I have new skates, too.”

“Are they pink?” I ask, knowing my brother.

“They are,” he says, “how did you know?”

I chuckle. “Lucky guess. How are Mom and Dad?”

“They’re good. Mom’s already done Christmas shopping for everyone. Of course she was done by Halloween, and they’re having their annual fight about when to put the tree up.”

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