Page 1 of The Hookup (Firsts and Forever #13)

Hal

Waking up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee was awesome. Realizing I wasn’t in my own bed? Less so.

I raised a lid and found myself nose-to-nose with some sort of grinning, pink creature. Automatically, I jerked back and blurted, “What the f?—”

Fortunately, I didn’t finish that sentence. It wouldn’t have been great to teach my best friend Logan’s three-year-old that colorful new word.

The toddler was standing beside the couch I’d fallen asleep on, wielding a strange stuffed animal like a microphone.

He’d stuck it in my face as if he was looking for a quote, and he’d almost gotten one.

I muttered, “Hi, Owen. What’ve you got there?

” The blanket someone had draped over me pooled in my lap as I sat up.

“Lotto.” That made absolutely no sense, but I nodded anyway.

“It’s an axolotl,” Logan explained, as he brought two mugs and a sippy cup into the family room.

“Which is what, exactly?” I pushed my long hair out of my face and thanked him when he handed me a cup of coffee.

“Apparently it’s some sort of aquatic salamander. Owen picked it from a huge wall of stuffed animals at the toy store. I personally would have gone for the giraffe, but he insisted on the squishy pink thing.”

He gave his son a cup of juice before crossing the room and plugging in the Christmas tree. It was ocean themed, just one of seven uniquely decorated trees Logan had put up throughout his house for the holiday season. I couldn’t even imagine having the energy for something like that.

After I took a big sip of coffee, I said, “Sorry for being the worst dinner guest ever. I can’t believe I fell asleep. Your husband must think I’m incredibly rude.”

“Lucky and I both understand. You’ve been working really hard, so no wonder you’re tired. Even now, during winter break, you’ve barely given yourself any downtime.”

“That’s because I’m totally behind. Everyone else in my class has already planned out their entire collection.

A few people have even started sewing their garments!

Meanwhile, I’ve got nothing, and that’s not okay.

I’ve come too far, only to end up choking on my senior project.

” Owen was watching me closely as he drank from his sippy cup, so I flashed him a smile.

Logan sat down beside me with real concern in his dark eyes.

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself, Hal.

When school starts back up in January, you’ll still have five months to figure this out.

I know how fast you can sew, which means once you nail down your designs, you’ll be able to knock out a six-piece collection in a matter of days.

Doesn’t it make sense to relax a little, so you can start your final semester rested and refreshed? ”

Of course it did. Logically, I knew that was exactly what I should be doing. It was hard to take a step back though, when it felt like not just my degree but my entire future was on the line.

I left it at, “You’re right,” and drank some more coffee before changing the subject. “Where’s your husband?”

“Lucky wanted to do some Christmas shopping. We’re meeting at the p-a-r-k in about two hours, so you-know-who can play on the you-know-what. Want to join us?” If he hadn’t spoken in code, his son would have insisted on going immediately.

“Thanks for the offer, but I have to finish those two dresses I told you about.”

As much as I loved watching Owen shriek with delight on the toddler-sized swings, I felt like such a third wheel whenever I tagged along with Logan and his family. That was on me though, because they always went out of their way to make me feel included.

We chatted for a few more minutes, and then I got up and tucked my shoes under my arm. “Thanks for dinner, and the coffee, and for letting me pass out on your couch. I promise to be a livelier guest next time.”

“I don’t need you to be lively. I just need you to take care of yourself, Hal.”

After I said goodbye to Logan and ruffled his son’s blond curls, I left by the back door and walked home barefoot. It took less than thirty seconds to reach my destination.

My best friend lived directly behind the funky pink Victorian I shared with six people, including his brother.

When Logan and his husband bought their house, everyone decided to take down the fence between the two properties and create one big yard.

My housemate Dylan was studying landscape architecture, so he and his boyfriend had turned it into a lush, beautiful oasis.

As nice as it was though, I had things to do, so I didn’t linger.

When I stepped through the kitchen door, my housemate Lark muttered, “Aw, that’s too bad.”

“What is?”

He put down the dishtowel he’d been using and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “I thought you might have spent the night doing something—or someone—fun. Instead, you must have fallen asleep on my brother’s couch again.”

“I’ve only done that twice. You’re making it sound like I keel over every time I’m there.”

“Can I pour you some coffee? I want to wash the pot, and there’s a little left.”

“Absolutely.” I studied Lark as he grabbed a mug from the cupboard and emptied the last of the coffee into it.

It was easy to tell that he and Logan were brothers by their dark hair and eyes and similar features, but no one would ever guess Lark was the older of the two.

Besides being a few inches shorter, he tended to dress in things that made him seem like a kid.

The rainbow footie pajamas he was currently wearing were a perfect example.

He handed me the mug, and I thanked him and asked what he had planned for the day. Then I tried not to grimace as I took a sip. It was a huge step down from the expensive, freshly ground stuff Logan and his husband bought, but it still did the trick.

“Dylan and I are heading to the East Bay in a few minutes. He designed a gorgeous water feature for his parents’ backyard, and we’ll be building it in stages over the next three weeks. That’s our Christmas gift to them. What about you, what are you up to?”

“Yolanda and JoJo have that big holiday party coming up, so I need to finish their dresses.”

One of my landladies regularly hired me to make things for her, and this time she’d asked me to sew something for her wife as well.

JoJo claimed she was a huge fan of my work, but I suspected these were really just acts of kindness because she knew I needed the money.

She always insisted on overpaying me, even though I would have done it for free.

Lark asked, “You’re not working today?”

“I am, but not for a few hours. Lucky me, I got the six-to-midnight shift at the department store.”

“They’re open that late?”

“Sadly, yes. They have extended holiday hours all through December.” I’d been leaning against the kitchen table, and I pushed myself into an upright position and said, “I’d better get busy. See you later.”

I went upstairs and deposited my shoes and the mug in my room before heading to the bathroom. One of my housemates had just taken a shower, so it was warm and steamy.

After hurrying through my morning routine, I pulled my hair into a ponytail and ran a hand over the mirror to wipe away the condensation.

What I saw made me frown. I looked pale, even thinner than usual, and unmistakably tired.

A bit of concealer could take care of the shadows under my eyes, but there wasn’t any way to hide the weariness in them.

Logan was right, I’d been pushing myself way too hard. There was so much I needed to do, though. I turned away from the mirror with a sigh and went back to my room.

Aside from the twin-sized bed in the corner, it easily could have passed for a design studio.

Every wall was covered with sketches, and a messy desk, sewing machine, two racks of clothes, and four dress forms made the room feel cramped.

So did the shelves loaded with fabrics, books, and sewing supplies.

The clutter was overwhelming, but I couldn’t do anything about it right now.

My top priority was finishing my landladies’ cocktail dresses.

Yolanda’s dark red dress was short, tight, and sparkly, while JoJo’s was a plum-colored retro style with a fitted bodice and a flouncy, calf-length skirt—exactly what each woman had asked for.

My plan was to hand-stitch the hems, because the fabrics were so delicate. I threaded a needle and pulled up a chair in front of JoJo’s dress. That full skirt was going to take some time.

I made my way slowly and carefully, rolling back the fabric a fraction of an inch, creasing it with my thumbnail, and securing it with tiny stitches that disappeared into the dark purple fabric. I’d taught myself to sew when I was fifteen. A decade later, I could do this blindfolded.

My mind wandered as I worked. Inevitably, I started mentally cataloging everything I needed to get done today, and this week, and this month. Both school and my unpaid internship were on hiatus until January, which should have taken some of the pressure off. Somehow though, it really didn’t.

I might have felt better if I had some solid ideas for my senior project.

We had to design and sew a six-piece collection, which would be presented in a fashion show at the end of the school year.

It was about more than just a grade. Since my college had produced a lot of successful artists and fashion designers, the student showcase was always heavily scouted.

A good collection got you interviews. A bad one got you nothing.

Right before winter break, I’d presented sketches of my ideas to my instructor. He’d called them uninspired, and he was right. It didn’t help that the critical voice in my head heard that as you’re not good enough.

When a drop of water landed on the fabric in my hands, I swore under my breath and quickly blotted it away with the hem of my cardigan. Why was I crying? I was going to ruin the silk.

I stuck the needle into an inner seam and pushed my chair back. Fuck, I hated this. I hated feeling broken, and weak.

Crying wouldn’t help. I knew that, but the tears kept coming.

I was so fucking tired. It felt like I’d been running at a flat-out sprint for the last two years, but I couldn’t stop now. I had to finish this. I had to build a future for myself.

I had to leave the past behind.

There was so much hurt, anger, and pain in my rearview mirror. If I stopped running, it would all catch up to me.

I moved from the chair to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. Sobs shook me, and I curled into myself.

At one point, a couple of my housemates started having a conversation right outside my closed door. It was okay, though. I’d taught myself to be completely silent when I cried. That way, no one had to know.