Old Ink (Get Ink'd #3) - Ali Lyda Page 0,61

want to catch up. But I’m going to go dance with my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get to it, old man. Talk to you soon. And congrats.”

I barely heard him. I was up and moving toward Channing, who in turn crooked his finger and sashayed to the dance floor in a terrible impersonation of Dane. I rolled my eyes. We met amid the press of hot, sweaty, gyrating bodies. No one existed for me but him, though. I caught his hips and Channing let his head loll back as he ground into me, our bodies swaying together. I slid a thigh through his legs as he grasped his hands behind my neck.

Every part of us that touched was alight with pleasure. His erection pressed into my hip. Part of me wanted to take him to the bathroom and fuck him right then and there. But Channing wasn’t a fling or a way to get my rocks off. He wasn’t just a boyfriend. In my arms, moving with me as if we were made for each other, he transcended into something precious. Important. Worth fighting to keep and protect, no matter what.

He was mine, and now that I had him, I was going to do whatever it took for us to stay together.

16

Channing

If anyone is ever interested in procrastinating on a large talk that you’re overly worried about, might I suggest making a PowerPoint presentation? Because that was what I’d just finished. I clicked through the slides, each laying out my case for extending my college career and adding the criminal justice degree. At first I’d been planning to minor but after some thought… I wanted to double major. Social work and criminal justice with a focus on juvenile crime and impoverished areas. Do it all at once, and do it right.

My cheeks were puffed and I blew a slow, steady breath out. While my talk with Reagan had helped me believe that telling my brothers would be fine, it hadn’t erased my concerns about how upset they might be with me over this.

Ultimately it came down to money and maturity. Having grown up poor, I still struggled with the comfortable life Christian led. Of course, he worked his ass off for it, but not wasting a dime was ingrained in my bones. It was difficult not to imagine his disappointment at thinking he’d been throwing away money on me.

Maturity was a big part of it, as well. A large part of me recognized that I was only twenty-one. But I’d been fending for myself since I was twelve. There’s a maturity that is born early in kids like me, the ones who have to figure out how to survive before they can learn to drive a car, but it’s a different kind of maturity than what’s needed to get by in life on the right side of the street.

So I’d been striving to prove I was a capable, mature adult in the eyes of the men in my life. Able to make tough choices and handle difficult circumstances. Doing something like changing my school trajectory, then, felt like it could be interpreted as wishy-washy. What if they thought I was trying to stay on campus as long as possible, living on their dime and goodwill? Or a fickle child unwilling to confront adulthood or decide what I wanted. Both of those things were far from the truth, but—

Breathe, you ding dong.

There was nothing to do but bite the bullet. I gathered my laptop and headed downstairs, hoping I’d catch Christian and Dane in a good mood. They were at the table eating a late breakfast. It never ceased to delight me to see them together: Christian, with his black hair smartly cut and trim body, looking as proper and esteemed as could be with the straight back that came from being educated in private schools. Dane, across from him, shirtless, his brown hair sticking up all over the place and some of the most ridiculous tattoos on view for anyone to see. Not all of his tats were funny. Instead, the clever or ridiculous ones were hidden between gorgeously inked ones, a reward for those willing to look. The man never, never stopped laughing or joking.

They looked up when they heard me come into the room.

“Uh, hey,” I managed. Already off to a confident start there, Channing. Way to go. “I was wondering if I could talk to both of you about something. It’s...important.”

Christian set his mug on the table and sagged