#Junkie (GearShark #1)(57)

I felt like I was in eighth grade again and I was on my first date at the movies. I’d sweated through my shirt I was so incredibly nervous. It had taken me until the last five minutes of the movie to reach for my date’s hand. And when she didn’t pull away, I literally thought I was the shit.

“Is this okay?” he asked. His voice was low and reminded me so much of that eighth grader I was just thinking of.

I couldn’t help it. I glanced down at our entwined hands. “It’s better than okay,” I whispered.

He turned back to the movie. I did, too, but I didn’t even see the screen. I couldn’t even have told you what was playing. All I felt was his palm against mine. The way his fingers folded into mine perfectly. I didn’t engulf his hand; he didn’t engulf mine. It was like a perfect match.

My dick went back to its previously rigid state. I was beginning to think this could be a problem.

I didn’t want him to see and freak. So with my free hand, I pulled the blanket down from behind my head and tossed it over my lap.

Drew glanced at me, then back to the TV. He totally knew what I was doing. That was one thing about trying to hide a hard-on from another dude. It was kinda impossible. Drew knew all the tricks, too.

He didn’t call me out, though, and he didn’t pull back his hand.

When the first movie went off, he dropped his feet off the table, and my stomach tightened. I wasn’t ready to get up yet. I wasn’t ready for him to get up yet.

“I gotta piss,” he announced and stood.

When he was out of sight, I wondered if maybe he used the bathroom as an excuse to let go of my hand.

“You want anything from the kitchen?” he called.

All I need is you. “Nah! I’m good!”

He came back carrying a bag of chips and two sodas, which he set near my feet and then plopped down.

This time he sat closer than before. If I moved over just an inch, our legs would be pressed together.

Could Drew actually be into me, too?

Beneath the blanket, my cock jerked. It was still f*cking hard. Seriously. Apparently, one kiss from Drew was like the equivalent of an overdose of Viagra.

I’d never been hard this long before. I’d always just taken care of the situation.

But I couldn’t right now. It was like sick torture, and I enjoyed it.

“Second one’s starting,” he said, popped the top to the can, and took a sip. I watched his profile as he stared up at the TV. After a few seconds, the can was returned to the table and Drew’s back hit the cushions. Our shoulders were so wide they bumped together.

I wanted to reach for his hand, but I was unsure.

What if he didn’t want me to?

What if he does?

I glanced down at his long fingers, resting loosely on the top of his thigh. I moved like I was settling back into the couch a little bit more and dropped my arm near his. The back of his hand fell open. I took a chance and reached for it. His fingers opened wide to make room for mine.

“When I’m drunk, I call my grandma and tell her she’s hot,” I said, still looking at the TV.

“In a Scottish accent.” Drew snickered.

“You knew?” I shot him a surprised look.

“Yeah.” He chortled.

“Did Ivy tell you?” I demanded.

Drew’s hand went stiff in mine. “Ivy knows?” The humor in his voice was no longer there.

I hesitated. “Yeah, I told her a long time ago,” I explained. “The night she told me she was into Braeden.”

“‘Cause you were interested in her.” His tone was harder now, like he was upset. Drew started to pull back, and my chest seized in panic.

“Listen.” I gripped his hand tighter to prevent him from moving away.

“You and my sister is not an image I want in my head.”

“Nothing happened between me and Ivy. I swear. If it did, do you think Braeden would even let me in this house?”

Drew gave me a sidelong glance and then settled back against the cushions, but his hand was still rigid in mine.

“So…” I began, cautious. “The idea of me and Ivy bothers you?”

He made a rude sound. “The idea of you and anybody bothers me.”

Well, that made me happy. Totally f*cking giddy.

He didn’t seem quite as gleeful about the announcement, so I decided to maybe not act like I’d just won the lottery.

“Most guys have one-night stands, random hook-ups when they get drunk. If there aren’t women around, they do stupid shit like run across the quad or get into fights.”

“You’re such a frat boy.” Drew teased.

“If anybody else called me that, I’d punch ‘em in the face.”

“Frat boy,” he said again.

I let him get away with it.

Because I loved him. And when it came off his lips, it sounded like a term of endearment.

“Instead of doing that stuff, I’d call Granny. Who the f*ck calls their grandma to tell her she’s hot when they’re drunk?”

“I think we should get you some therapy,” he deadpanned.

“So cold,” I said, pretending I was hurt and like I was going to pull my hand back.

In reality, someone would have to use a chainsaw to get my hand out of his.

“Aww, T,” Drew drawled. “I was just kidding.” As he spoke, he pulled my hand back and lifted it to his lips.