Chapter 08 FEN
“Tell me his name wasn’t Chris,“
Libby says, observing my ragged attire and the bruised circles no amount of green tea eye patches could resolve.
“Not Chris,“
I groan. “Ollie.”
“Ollie? That’s adorable.”
“I know.“
I take the coffee she offers and drag her away from the cart in the student quad. “It gets worse.”
“Worse than Ollie?“
She bites her lip, fighting a grin.
“Three words: Slutty. Little. Glasses.”
“Fender Warren,“
she exclaims. “Did you score yourself a hot nerd?”
I try for my best unimpressed glare, but I only manage miserable. I barely slept after crawling into my bed this morning, fucked-out and heart-sore and already missing the smell of his skin.
“Oh.“
Comprehension dawns on her features. “You scored a hot nerd. How bad is it?”
“So bad,“
I wail. “And he’s the babiest of baby bis ever, so he’s definitely losing his shit today.”
“That’s never bothered you before.”
“Rule Number Three, Libby! Of course I’m not supposed to be bothered. That’s why I’m so fucked.”
She’s full-on laughing at me now. “Did you at least get his number?”
“Of course not! That would have been reasonable. Something a stable, optimistic person would do.“
Why isn’t she taking this seriously? “I don’t know how to date. Do I look like boyfriend material to you?”
“You look pretty pathetic, actually.”
“Not helping. I need a drink. Or a manicure. Or several drinks and a manicure. Anything to stop me from crawling back to bed for the next year.”
“It’s not even ten in the morning, and we have classes to get to. Why even come to school if you wanted to wallow all day?”
“Because I needed some sage advice from my best friend, and I foolishly thought that was you. Please, Lib,“
I beg. “I need you to tell me what to do.”
“Too late.”
“I swear to god, if you don’t start being helpful, you’re fired.”
“This is me being helpful.“
She jerks her chin over my shoulder. “Hot nerd incoming. And from the way he’s locked in on you, I’m guessing he’s your boy.”
“What?“
Coffee scalds my fingers as I whirl around. And then the whole cup is on the ground because Ollie is here, and he’s picking me up, and he’s kissing me in the middle of the quad while the morning coed traffic streams around us.
“What are you doing?“
I gasp when I come up for air.
“Kissing you. That’s okay, isn’t it?“
A furrow appears between his brows.
“But…people can see you.”
If anything, he only gets more confused.
“So? Is PDA not allowed? Oh shit. Am I embarrassing you?“
His horror has me tightening my arms around his neck to keep him from pulling away.
“No. I just…wasn’t expecting it. This doesn’t usually happen to me after a hookup,“
I admit. Is he a hookup? Or…?
“But it’s okay?“
he asks again, then buries his face in my neck. “I missed you when I woke up this morning.”
…something more.
“Very okay.“
Stretching up on my toes, I recapture his mouth. How did I already forget how good he tastes?
“Well, hello.”
Oh, right. Libby is here. Reluctantly, I disentangle myself, although I don’t mind at all when Ollie’s hand drops and lingers on the small of my back, his fingers tracking over the exposed skin above my jeans.
“Looking for pink lace?“
I tease under my breath. The look he shoots me sends shivers down my spine, and I try not to choke on the sudden urge to lick him. “This is my former best friend, Libby. Libby, this is Ollie.”
“The hot nerd.“
She gives him an appraising once-over. “You’re very boyfriend-shaped.”
“Libby,” I squawk.
“Is that a compliment?“
Ollie asks, glancing between us.
“It’s a gross overstepping of boundaries. Ignore her.”
“Ignore me at your peril,“
Libby warns, arching a pierced eyebrow at him like the mean girl in a ’90s teen drama. “I’m the one who’ll be kicking your ass six ways from Sunday if you hurt my boo here.”
“Oh my god.“
I roll my eyes. “Do not call me that. And ‘six ways from Sunday’? Who even are you right now?”
“Your ride-or-die. And you love me.“
She smacks me on the arm, then returns her attention to Ollie. “He tries to act all cool and unaffected, but I’ve always known he was a closet romantic.”
“Take that back,” I gasp.
“Embrace it, babe.“
She leans in to plant a kiss on my cheek. “Nice to meet you, Ollie.“
And then she walks off, humming “Hit My Spot.”
“That’s cultural appropriation,“
I call after her.
“No it’s not,“
she shoots back, before disappearing into the crowd. I bury my face in Ollie’s chest.
“Sorry about that.”
“I like her,“
he says, grabbing my hand and tugging me across the lawn like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I’m glad you have a friend who has your back. Speaking of—I called Ellis last night after you left.”
“At four in the morning?“
Tearing my eyes from our clasped hands, I search his face for signs of regret. Maybe this whole kissing-in-the-quad-and-holding-hands thing is his way of letting me down easy?
“It’s two hours earlier in California,“
he says with a dismissive wave. “You should have heard how excited he was.”
“Excited?” About…me?
“I had to talk him out of jumping on a plane this week and rushing here to meet you. I told him he’ll survive until Thanksgiving.”
What is happening right now? A little PDA is one thing, but I’m not the guy you bring home to meet the family. I’m the cheap hookup, the backup plan. The experiment that never goes anywhere.
“Honestly, I’m not sure I want you to meet him,“
he continues, and the fledgling flutter in my chest dips back toward reality. “At least not until I’ve solidified my claim. He’s a lot hotter than I am, with all those acrobat muscles. Probably way better at blow jobs too.”
“Not possible,“
I mutter, and he cuts his eyes to me, shyly pleased.
“I’d still like to get in a lot more practice before I introduce you to my sexy, very experienced little brother.”
“Oh.“
I’m lightheaded—my blood fizzing like Champagne under my skin. The only thing grounding me is his hand, warm and solid in mine, and even that’s not enough to convince me this isn’t a dream. Maybe I crashed on the way home last night, dick-drunk and dazed, and I’m actually lying in a coma at Carbondale General right now. I drag him to a stop, searching his face.
“Fen?“
His eyes are soft with concern but free of hesitation or regret, and he reaches out to brush a thumb along my jaw.
He’s real.
And he might actually be mine—if I’m brave enough to claim him.
“I’m really, really happy to see you,“
I say. “Thank you for coming to find me.”
“You told me not to break your heart.“
His smile is everything. “Pretty sure that means I have to stick around forever.”