Page 24 of The Hookup Situation

It’s the same thing every year. Mom wants it up before Thanksgiving, Dad doesn’t. It’s not really a fight, and Mom always wins because Dad doesn’t really care and wants to see her happy, but they go through it anyway. It’s a tradition at this point.

“How’s school? You got anyone special I need to know about?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you I was engaged? The wedding is in the spring. You’ll be the flower boy of course. I can’t decide on pink or white for the tuxes though.”

“All right, smart aleck, forget I asked.”

He laughs. “No one special. I’m kinda a lot, you know. I don’t think most people know what to do with me.”

“Hey, you’re perfect just the way you are, and someday, someone as amazing as you is going to realize that and sweep you off your tiny feet.”

He laughs. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Hey, I’m at the library now, so I gotta go. Love you, squirt.”

“Love you, too, butthead.”

I laugh and end the call. It’s fucking freezing and I welcome the warmth as I step inside, the smell of old paper, vanilla, and earth surrounding me.

I make my way up to the third floor and grin when I see him sitting at a table on the other side of the room. There’s several other tables around him with other students reading, studying, and typing, most of them with headphones on. Jackson stands out a bit with his jet black hair and leather jacket, and all that jewelry and makeup. His earrings and rings are sexy as fuck. I’m a fan of all of it. I don’t think he has any clue how captivating he is.

I stare at him creepily from my spot by the door, before making my way over to where he’s sitting. He has his laptop open in front of him and doesn’t notice me until I’ve pulled out a chair across from him and taken a seat. Then he finally looks up and takes one of his earphones out of his ear, looking a bit startled to see me.

“What are you doing here?” he whispers.

“Jousting practice,” I tell him, and he blinks. I laugh quietly. “It’s a library. I’m studying.”

He narrows his eyes. “And you just happened to be here and on the same floor as me at the same time?”

I flush. “I mean, Imayhave seen you coming in here on my way to my last class, and Imayhave come here in the hopes that you would still be here and I would see you, but none of that happened if that sounds as creepy as I think it does.”

He smirks and those sapphire eyes twinkle. God he’s pretty. I could stare at him all day.

“Do you want me to leave?”

He looks at me for a second and then bites his lip and shakes his head. Jesus, my dick twitches every damn time he does that lip biting thing. He smiles as he goes back to his work.

I grin and pull out my own laptop. “What are you working on?” I ask him.

“Short story for my creative writing class.”

“That sounds cool. Is that your major?”

“Minor,” he tells me with a sexy smile. “Majoring in theater.”

“That’s awesome. I don’t have a creative bone in my body.”

He shrugs. “I could never do phys ed, or biology.” He gives an exaggerated shiver and I laugh.

“What do you want to do? Act or write, or both?”

He seems surprised that I’m still asking him questions, still talking, but his eyes still have that twinkle when he answers. “Either, or both. Anything in theater, really. I’d be happy with stage management, writing, directing, acting. Anything. I just want to be involved in theater in some way.”

“You must be good. I’ve never paid much attention to the theater department, but I will now.” I wink at him and he flushes and grins. “When’s your show?”

“Opening night is the 14th.”

“What play are you doing?”

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