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If it weren’t for Lincoln, I probably wouldn’t be at Whitmore U. He’s beaten the shit out of me more than once when I’ve slipped back into my old habits, but this anxious feeling made me want to use, which is out of the question, so I chose alcohol instead.
I wave my hand. “It’s five o’clock somewhere,” I mutter, grabbing the handle and pouring more into the mug still balanced between my thighs.
Link walks over and reaches for my drink. “You’ve had enough.”
I frown but let him take it. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to worry you, Link. I just needed a little extra help today.”
When I was sixteen, I almost died from a cocaine overdose, and after that, I found other ways to manage my mental health. That’s when I started sleeping with my friend Jeremy in between fucking just about every cheerleader and closeted football player at our high school.
He sits down next to me, concern coloring his gray eyes. “What’s going on? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you this bad.”
“I just had a few drinks.”
“You’re slurring your words, Trey. Please talk to me.”
I stare at my index finger running absently over the soft material of my Marvel sleep pants. “Do you think Charlie will let us share?”
Link’s posture stiffens, and he sighs. “I dunno. Are you worried she won’t?”
“I just—I want her to want us both, you know? She’s a good person. We need more good people in our lives.”
I glance up at him when he huffs a laugh, his hand falling to my wrist. It’s warm. He looks happy for once, and it makes my insides fuzzy.
“Trey Walker,” he says, smiling wider. “Do you have your first real crush?”
I flush, rubbing my stubbled cheeks. “Maybe? I don’t know. Being with her feels different, and it scares me. Doesn’t it scare you?”
Lincoln shrugs but doesn’t answer. He smells good, musky like leaves and pine. Without thinking, I place my hand on his thigh.
“Trey…” His voice has a warning note to it.
I ignore him and inch my fingers higher, enjoying the roughness of his jeans against my skin. He catches my hand just as I slide it over his crotch. I freeze when I feel his cock hardening behind his zipper.
“We talked about this,” Link says, his grip on my hand tightening. “You can’t grab my junk without consent.”
“Can I?” I ask hopefully as my own cock stirs to life.
We’ve never actually done anything—I think Link is pretty damn straight—but I get handsy when I drink too much.
“No, Trey, you’re drunk.”
“I really am,” I say with a resigned sigh, but then I give him a wicked smile and press my hand against his dick, watching in satisfaction as Link’s breath catches and his eyes flutter closedfor a moment. Then he clears his throat and gives me a hard stare.
“Save it for Charlie, okay?”
I nod and reluctantly move my hand.
Lincoln leans forward to grab the remote. “What should we watch?”
I shrug. “Ironman?”
Link chuckles. “You’ve only seen it like a hundred times.”
“I know, but?—”
“It’s your favorite movie,” he finishes for me. Then he starts it up, and we sit shoulder-to-shoulder, until I finally fall into a dreamless sleep.
CHARLIE
