Free Getting Him Back by K. A. Mitchell

stripper.” I wrapped my hands around his hips. Hard, sharp angles. My hands went farther, finding the firm muscles of his ass. God, it wasn’t a stripper pole I was thinking of him grinding on.
    And with all those edges he had those full lips. Those soft full lips.
    “I’ll talk to you later.” He pushed me back and moved around me. He paused to look down at my desk and shook his head. “And seriously, Ethan, you need to check in with Academic Support.”
    After he left, I looked down at my calculus notes. I’d doodled a spunk-shooting dick. I guess it was better than a zombie with parts falling off.
    Maybe I should have known it was me Blake expected to be bringing back to the room that night. That he thought his 10:00 p.m. text would have me running.
    Hey, babe. Meet me behind the student center. I’ve got a bottle of that Moscato you like and the fountain does rainbow colors at night.
    Just like that. No apologies. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted, and it killed me how well he knew me. Blake wasn’t the only one who could use a sure bet. I was sick to death of jerking myself off, and I didn’t know where things were going with me and Wyatt. That didn’t mean I should fuck it up before it had a chance to go anywhere. I wanted to know whatever it was about him he thought I needed to hear about. I wanted him making that raised eyebrow smirk and picking on me about calculus.
    The decision to turn Blake down was easy enough to make, figuring out what to say wasn’t. Telling him what he could do with the bottle of wine would make him think I was pissed and wanted him to try harder.
    Thanks for the invite. Not interested. Congrats on the game.
    I so did not want to read the text that buzzed back a moment later.
    WTF do you want, Ethe? You want me to beg? We had a fight. I’m sorry. Okay?
    For a second, there was a familiar flash of rage and despair. A fight? He dumped me, ignored me for weeks and he called it a fight?
    Then those feelings slipped out of me like water down a drain. Nothing left but a little pity for how clueless he was.
    And like I told Wyatt, pity didn’t make my dick hard.
    It’s fine, Blake. But it’s over.
    Is this one of your tests?
    I shook my head. He could do this all night, send back responses like he was saving shots on goal, and I was flat-out done.
    Connor opened the door and staggered dramatically toward his bed. I tapped at my phone, took a deep breath and selected Block this caller. I tossed the phone on my desk.
    “So,” I looked at Connor’s smug face, remembering my resolve to be a less selfish roommate, “tell me all the gory details.”
    He pressed up on his elbows, brow arched.
    “Um, well, not all the details, please. Like a PG-13 sketch.”
    Connor dropped on his back. “Thank God there was nothing PG-13 about it. She lives off campus. Has her own room.”
    “Don’t you have to be a—”
    He nodded. “A junior. Older women are totally the way to go.”
    I didn’t know about older women, but considering my history, I definitely had a thing for older men—at least by a year or two. There was one in particular I wanted to be sure knew I was interested and available.
    By two on Sunday, I was midterm studied out and Connor had gone off to Amy’s again. I knew Wyatt was at work, but the guy had to get breaks sometime. There was a chance I’d run into Blake in that dining hall, but fuck it. My decisions no longer revolved around him.
    I grabbed a tray, but didn’t get any food. I brought the tray back to the drop-off window and peered through. There was Wyatt in his apron, scraping off plates into the trash. The noise from the dishwasher was deafening. It totally made my twelve hours a week filing in the Office of Residential Life look like a trip to Disney World.
    He saw me. “You again.” But there was a half smile to go with his words.
    I had to yell to make myself heard over the swooshing and clanking. “I was just doing a quality check on the