The Culture of Hooking Up

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Jack

One thing you should know about Laney Emerson is that she has the slightest addiction to chocolate. Not enough to render an intervention, but I suppose only time will tell.

     I dig my hand into the brown bag of M&Ms we've been passing between us, toss a yellow one up in the air, and duck my head to catch it.

     "Unbelievable!" Laney grumbles as her sock covered feet start kicking the comforter beside me. "I don't understand. You've literally caught all of them, while I haven't been able to catch a single one."

     "Cause I'm cooler than you." I toss a red one towards her general direction before tossing another orange one up in the air. It clinks against my teeth, but I still manage to hold it between my lips and pull it the rest of the way into my mouth.

     Laney only continues to grumble and shake her head as she crunches on a few pieces from the pile on her stomach before she nudges my leg with hers. "Okay, serious question."

     "Serious answer." I toss two M&Ms up this time, catching one with my mouth and the other with my hand before I toss the second one back up.

     "Which color M&M is your favorite?"

     My head falls back down just as the blue M&M smacks against my cheek.

     "Finally!" Laney cheers, and her legs start happily shuffling this time, but her triumphant laughter is quick to transform into squeals when I reach out and start tickling her sock covered toes. "Okay! You win." She attempts to squirm her bare legs out of my reach.

     It looks like we stole each other's clothes because I'm not wearing a shirt, but really, she only stole a white t-shirt and a pair of socks out of my drawer, while I found myself too hot to wear anything but sweatpants.

     "Okay, serious question, for real," she says.

     I reach out to pass her the bag of M&Ms, letting her grab another handful. "Shoot."

     She falls back on her hands, only lifting one to pop a piece of candy into her mouth. "Why did you get your tattoos?"

     Heat dips down the back of my neck, and my skin feels like its searing again as my blood boils to the surface once more. I'm sure if she reached out and laid a hand on my chest, or even my arm, she would feel it, but I still manage to tilt my head to the side and crack a smile. "Why? Are you finally thinking about getting one?"

     "No." She turns her head as she drags out the word. Her toes wiggle a little as she traces the overlapping lines on my comforter with her finger. "You know now that you mention it . . ." Her voice floats around the room once more. That's how you know there's something churning in that big beautiful brain of hers because usually her voice is deeper, carries more of a soft undertone rather than slicing through the air at a high pitch. "You'd be able to pull off a piercing." She taps her ear as a smile dances across her own lips.

     I just toss another M&M at her, making her flinch a little as she laughs.

     "Fine, fine." She waves her hand before popping the candy into her mouth. "How about the day you get your ear pierced, you know, just one ear,"—she holds the number up with her finger— "I'll get a tattoo."

     "Deal." I nod and reach out to pass her the bag, but she waves me off, gesturing to the array of colors still littering the shirt creases on her stomach.