Page 22 of Pick Me
He narrowed his eyes on the light illuminating the stairs to the barn-apartment. “Hawk said I was being a dick.”
Hawk had defended me? He was so cute.
“Yeah, well.” I folded my arms over my chest. “That’s ’cause you have been.”
“Okay. So, then, I’m sorry. About that happening. Inadvertently.”
I shook my head. “But… why? What did I do that pissed you off?”
“I don’t…” He darted a look at me and sighed. “It’s about me and my reactions, not anything you did, okay? I’m not used to being in Little Pippin Hollow anymore. I’m not used to sharing a space. I’m feeling like there’s a lot of stuff in my life I can’t control, and I don’t know what to do about it,” he concluded with unmistakable honesty. “And all of that sort of… coalesced. And I took it out on you since you were handy… and maybe also because it feels like you have a lot more freedom than I have.”
I squeezed my eyes shut for a beat. Well, so much for Toby’s theory that Knox wanted me, eh? But I’d known all along that was a long shot. I opened them again.
“You know, we actually have a lot in common,” I said wryly. “I’malsonot used to being in the Hollow, and my life isalsocompletely up in the air. I need to look for another job, but first I have to finishthisjob, and I don’t really know what I’m looking for or where. Being in my midtwenties means I’ve gotten fat off a diet of possibilities for two decades, and now people are telling me to pick a tiny box to shove myself into and acting shocked when I tell them I don’t fit. I have so much freedom, I’ve got decision fatigue.” I shot him a teasing look, like I hadn’t just tossed all my very real fears into the evening air. “Also, I’m perpetually horny.”
Knox choked on air. “Horny?”
“Er… yes. That emotion you feel when you wish to have sex but have not had any,” I explained.
Knox hip-checked me, then cut around me to jog up the stairs. “Yes, thank you, I know what the word means.”
“Do they call it something different when you get older?” I called, following him. Then a thought occurred to me. “Because my brother’s boyfriend is thirty-seven, and he and Beale go at it like a pair of gay bunnies, so I know they still feel it.”
“It’s still called horny no matter how old you are.” Knox opened the door and placed his keys precisely on the hook hanging beside it. “And of course you still feel it. But after a certain age, you stop throwing your horniness around willy-nilly.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s true.” I stepped in behind him and flipped on the overhead light so it glinted off the hardwood floor and the countertops in the open kitchen area. “Or else someone should inform the truly concerning number of Crypt Keeper leather daddies down in Florida who are ready to stick their willies in any old nilly at the slightest provocation.”
Knox snorted and unlaced his boots before placing them precisely by the door. “Imeant, now that I’m older, I don’t just hook up with any old meat sack with a dick. The guys I hook up with have similar goals. Similar interests. They’re educated and ambitious.”
“Ahhh, I see what you’re saying. You want your meat sacks to calculate torque while you’re railing them, and you want their dirty talk in the form of a haiku. Welp, far be it from me to yuck your yum—”
“Oh my God, you’re infuriating,” he said, though he seemed close to laughter. “The men I pick to hook up with don’t call the next day whining for attention or expect a repeat.”
“Okay, that makes sense.” I set my hands on my hips. “So, you want a meat sack with no self-esteem.”
“The exact opposite. I want someone who lives their own life and lets me live mine. Someone who understands the rules at the outset and doesn’t expect more than I can give.”
I nodded slowly. “So you don’tdateanyone.”
“Correct.”
I toed off my own shoes and purposely kicked them into a haphazard pile next to his. “Okay, same. ButI’mtalking about hooking up. Having bizarrely high standards when you’re hooking up is like asking the guy at the McDonald’s drive-thru to see their wine list. You’re going for frenchfries, not Frenchcuisine. You feel me? Both are tasty as fuck, but only one can be served up piping hot and sliding down your throat in ten minutes or less.” I opened my Grindr app and shook my phone at him in demonstration.
Knox shuddered at the visual. “Thank you, Professor Horndog. I have so much to learn from you about how to have casual sex.” He rolled his eyes and flopped onto one end of the little red sofa in the center of the living area. He unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt before he began rolling up the cuffs to expose his forearms.
Merciful fuck.I blinked, then blinked again, imagining those hands on me and those arms wrapped around my…
“Actually… Actually, maybe Icouldteach you a thing or two,” I offered.
He snorted… and then he sobered instantly and shot me a panicked look. “Oh, wait. Goodman… no. I mean, you’re good-looking and all, but—”
Ouch. I’d thought I’d reconciled myself to it, but that little comment reached out and pinched my heart.
“But I’m not your French cuisine? Good thing I wasn’t offering, dumbass,” I scoffed like I wouldn’t have climbed on top of him right that minute and damned the consequences. “I was offering to help you overcome your debilitating insistence on only fucking guys who pass your twenty-point compatibility assessment. I could tutor you in…” I paused dramatically. “The Art of the Modern Hookup.” I slid onto the arm of the sofa facing him and pulled my feet up onto the cushion. “What do you say?”
“I say fuck off because I’ve been hooking up since before you were toilet trained. Literally.”
“Yes, but humans have evolved in the current millennia,” I told him pityingly. “How many hookups have you had in the last year?”
