Page 23 of A Stealthy Situation

Rubbing our bare, slippery skin all over each other? Kill me now.

“Did you miss the part where I have six siblings? I’m a wrestling pro, big guy.”

“Guess we’re about to find out.”

7

HARRISON

Turns out Marshall and Felix were right. Benny wanted my dick. It’s not the first time I’ve been hit on by a guy, and it won’t be the last, so him thinking I’d freak out about it makes me sad. We established he wanted to hook up. We established that’s off the table. Now, we move on.

That’s what you do with misunderstandings.

I’m still down to hang out and cook him dinner and force him into watching more shows with me—those are all things I wanted to do before our conversation, so nothing has changed.

It’s a tight squeeze through the house, and I have no idea where Felix and Marshall are, but Benny and I stop to grab a drink as we make our way outside. The party is stupidly fun, a real vibe, but it’s hitting me that this isn’t the kind of thing I’d want to do on a regular basis anymore.

We have to fight our way to the front of the crowd that’s formed around the wrestling. And by “we,” I mean Benny pushes his brothers out of the way while I duck in behind him.

The two women wrestling have their shirts off and are covered in Jell-O while the guys around us are acting like it’s the greatest thing they’ve ever seen. It’s not surprising to see Chase and his best friend, Tatertot, at the front, leading the cheer squad.

Welcome to college, lads.

I duck my mouth down near Benny’s ear. “Should we have another wager?”

“You mean the last one didn’t scar your ego?”

“My ego is big enough to take a beating. What do you say?”

“I’m always game. What are you thinking?”

That part is harder. Bets are fun; thinking of a prize is not. “Fifty bucks?”

“Money? Pfft.”

“Fine, fine … Ah … okay. If I win, you come to work with me next weekend.”

“Work?”

I nod. “I have some lawns to mow. Sweaty work. Takes me all day. It’d be way better if I had someone else I could palm it off to.”

“Fine. Agreed. No risk since you won’t win anyway.”

“Okay, smart-ass. What are you getting?”

A teasing glint hits his eye, and he pumps his eyebrows at me.

“No.” It’s a real struggle not to laugh, but I don’t want him to think he’s cute. “No BJs.”

“Oh, damn,” he says, not trying to sound believably disappointed. “In that case, cleanup tomorrow. You can come help.”

“That sounds easy enough.”

He gives me a pitying look that tells me I don’t know what I’m getting into. “Deal?”

“Deal.”

I strip off my shirt and we both ditch our shorts. Then, I pause to finish draining my cup, before I step over the side of the little kiddie pool and into the calf-deep Jell-O.

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