So then they talk a little bit more, about school—"Lit and philosophy?" Jake crows, blinking at him, and Tommy feels stupidly proud of himself. "Shit, I'm talking to a genius, then?"—that passed-out drunk kid one of Tommy's friends drew on—"that handlebar mustache was a nice touch."—and the girl on the couch across from them who looks like she wants to eat Jake for dinner—"did she actually just lick her lips?"
Tommy's not quite sure what's going on, but Jake puts his number in Tommy's phone before he walks away slightly off-kilter, and really, Tommy feels a lot drunker than he should after only one beer.
YOU ARE READING
Human
RomanceTommy Gold's the snarky, gay lit major who still lives in his parents' basement. Jake Miller's the all-American straight guy with only one leg. Turns out, neither of those things is completely true. © a. c. wyatt, 2016
