Then I think about the few random hookups I had over the summer, where I used an app to meet someone in places that were hours away from Kensley. I was terrified I’d run into someone who knows my dad.
It was pathetic, dangerous, and frantic. So rushed I barely had time to enjoy it. I finally wised up and deleted that hookup app and downloaded one that’s geared toward getting to know someone.
And I have, but I’m too chicken to actually meet him.
“Trav?” He nudges me again.
“My sexual history isn’t any of your business.” I sigh, but there’s no fire in my words. No conviction or anything that says back off like I should.
“Exactly. So no experience.”
I roll my eyes at his assumption but don’t argue because I don’t have much. “Still. This is not happening.” I motion between us.
“But why not? I’m horny. You’re horny. It makes sense.”
“If you’re horny, then go get laid. It’s not that difficult for you. You don’t need me.”
“But we could do a friends-with-benefits thing. Dating is a pain in the ass.”
I snort and grin because really? “You don’t date. You hookup.” Everyone knows that.
“I’m tired of hookups with random girls who want me to call the next day.”
“So call them the next day.”
He makes a frustrated noise and honestly seems to be in distress. “I don’t want to call them, but I don’t want to hurt their feelings either. I don’t know, Travis. Maybe I’m maturing.”
“No. It’s not that.”
He huffs, and I laugh. Then he sighs loudly. “I’m serious. I’m not ready to settle down, but I don’t want to lead anyone on. So this is perfect.” He’s the one gesturing between our bodies now. “I mean, apparently, I’m not your type, so no chance of you falling in love, and we can both get off. Fix this whole horny situation.”
I’m pretty sure my cheeks are bright red, which is weird. I rarely get embarrassed, but I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. “You’re. Not. Gay,” I repeat, my eyes meeting his with no nonsense.
He shrugs indifferently. “Maybe I am. I didn’t mind you lying on me at all the other day. You have really nice lips.”
He’s staring at those lips as my mouth parts, my jaw nearly dropping in shock. “What?”
“Okay, I’m not gay. I mean I’ve fucked too many women and enjoyed it to be gay, and I don’t think I’ve ever been attracted to a dude before.” I open my mouth to argue with him, but he shuts me down, his voice firm. “But I’m attracted to you.” He’s so calm about this, I want to scream. “We’d be helping each other out. No big deal. And you know, you probably need some actual experience with a guy before you meet your dream dude.”
I swallow hard, thinking about Ryan. Would he think I’m pathetic for not having much experience? I mean, he seems kind, but we haven’t really talked about that much. He knows I grew up in a small town and didn’t come out when I was living there. But I haven’t told him my sexual experience boils down to a couple of really fast hand jobs in bathrooms at crowded clubs and one kiss with a guy who’s like a brother to me.
I shake my head, clearing my thoughts, because no. I don’t need his pity experience. It’ll be fine. I’ll work up the courage to go see Ryan and face him, even though I won’t know what the hell to do if we ever get to the physical stuff.
It’s fine.
“It’s not happening, Oakley,” I say, trying to keep my voice decisive and firm.
It’s totally fine.
ELEVEN
OAKLEY
“You think any more about it?” I ask Travis as he lugs bags of soil out of the back of the company truck.
“No,” he answers, and I roll my eyes at him because I know he has.
Hell, I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I proposed we hook up last week. I think I had a really good idea. I mean, it’s pretty much perfect.
I really am tired of the random hookups. Even with the girls from high school who are just waiting around for me to settle down. It’s like they think one day, I’m just going to wake up and want a commitment.
It’s not that I don’t want that someday, but I’m young. I just want to work, hang out with friends, and occasionally get off without hurting anyone’s feelings. I hate feeling like I used someone. Even if we both go into it supposedly knowing the score, I still feel their little flicker of hope that maybe I’ll call again and want to take them out on a date.
And I feel like shit for not wanting to do that.
Not once.
I don’t know, maybe I’m broken or something. My parents are happily married. They’re almost gross with how much they love each other. They married young, and it worked for them, but I have no desire to be the same.
Maybe when I’m thirty or something.
So that’s why this is so damn perfect. Travis isn’t going to go all gaga over me all of a sudden. And I already like hanging out with him. He’s friends with my friends. There’d be no nagging. No wanting me to go out on fancy dates and meet his parents.
It would be just adding sex to what we already have.
It’s. Perfect.
“Stop staring at me like that.” He eyes me warily, tossing a bag of soil into the storage shed back at the main office.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
“Drop it, Oakley,” he says in annoyance.
But I don’t drop it. We finish unloading the truck and then park it back in its designated spot, done for the day. It’s starting to get colder out, and soon our days will be mostly pulling leaves from gutters and preparing outdoor plants for frost.
We walk to our vehicles, and I still can’t stop thinking about it. What his hands would feel like. What his mouth would feel like on mine . . . and other places.
Those damn lips.
“Oakley.” My thoughts are halted as I look over at Travis, who’s staring at me knowingly, but I have no shame whatsoever. “Stop thinking about it.”
I grin, a slow smile spreading over my lips. “Not a chance. It’s in my head now.”
He looks around the parking lot that’s pretty empty since we were the last crew in this evening. Then he walks over to me, where I’m standing by the driver’s side of my truck. “I have a dick.”
A startled laugh erupts from me because, for whatever reason, that was not at all what I was expecting him to say. “I’m aware of that.” I lean in a little closer to him, breathing in the smell of sweat and dirt, mixed with a hint of cologne that’s not at all unpleasant. “I even felt it pressed against me the other day in bed.”
He pulls back slightly, looking into my eyes with confusion swimming in his. “That should probably bother you. Considering you’ve always been more of a . . .”
“Vagina guy?” I finish for him, and he shifts uncomfortably, clearly not liking how I worded that. But I mean, technically I’ve only been with women with vaginas at this point. So I’m not wrong.
“Yes. It’s different. I’m a guy. I’m not going to be with some bigass jock type who wants to pretend I’m female. Telling himself it’s fine as he closes his eyes.”