After this morning, my day is useless. 

Or, worded better, I am useless. 

My legs are like jelly, even though I can sit down at classes. The second I stand up again, they start trembling. 

In class, I can't concentrate. My mind keeps darting back to this morning, to Alex. 

I'm successful in submitting my essays, but besides that, I have done little to nothing. I'm going to kill that sexy bastard. 

Flynn is in my last class. He seems off, too. Every time I glance at him, he's staring at the desk in front of him instead of focusing on the lecture. Not that I'm much better, with my mind in the gutter. 

I nudge him with my elbow between his ribs, making him finch. "What's up with you?"

He shrugs. "Nothing. Just having a tough day."

I pout, mocking him a little. "Poor you. Can I do something that'll make your day better?"

His eyes soften before he rests his head on my shoulder. It almost scares me; he's really having a hard day if he searches affection. "Do you have sappy details on last night? I saw Alex came over."

My cheeks turn red. I attempt to hide them underneath my hands, but it is too late. Flynn's seen it, and his eyes light up with hope. "He so fucked you."

"What makes you think he's in charge?" And there goes my plan to lie my way out of this.

"Your blush. His confidence. Pretty much everything about you two." He shrugs. 

I frown. "It's not like I am a wimp, right? Just because he's in charge doesn't mean I can't stand up for myself."

It was supposed to be a statement, but it came out as a question. With every hook up I've had, before Alex, I was the one doing the work. But now with Alex, I just enjoy what he has planned for me. 

"Nah, being a bottom in the bedroom doesn't define who you are. It's not even obvious if you don't see you two interacting," Flynn assures me. With that, the class ends, comforting me with the thought we're almost home again. 

Eliot joins us on the way to the parking lot. He's just had English, which means the mocking professor, which means a grumpy French man. But can you blame him?

Flynn dares to ask how the class went. Eliot just answers in grumbles. I try to give Flynn the hint to not push it, to just let him be for a while, but he doesn't get it. 

"Did you record it, like Alex said?" he asks, driving away from campus. I look at Eliot through the mirror and try not to be reminded of how differently I did that this morning with Alex. Fuck. That man has ruined my thoughts. 

"Yes," Eliot grits out. He's looking out of the window, glaring harshly at everything that passes us. There seems to be playing something else, too, but I can't quite figure out what. He won't tell me now, either, because when he's angry, he shuts everyone out. 

I'll gently hint at dinner, after he's cooked and been in his own mind for a while. Maybe that's the best option. 

"Have you gotten Dante's hair products now?" I ask Flynn, wanting to know more on that matter. His eyes dart to me, thinking I don't see it, before he shakes his head. "No. It's like he's running away from me."

I take my phone out of my pocket. "I can call Alex and ask if they want to join us for dinner. Eliot, would that be okay for you? You're cooking, right?"

Eliot nods, face cautious, almost as if he's trying to test the waters before dropping a bomb. His eyes scan our faces through the mirror. "We would have to go to the store for more pasta, but beside that it would be fine."

I head to call Alex, but Eliot interrupts me. "Can I, uh, can I invite someone, too?"

Of course, Flynn already smells love in the air and grins. "Sure! Who is it?"

Eliot's eyes immediately lower to his lap in an almost shy gesture. "Oh. He's just a guy who I have a lot of classes with. But please promise you won't comment on how he talks, okay. He. . . he's mute."

I turn around in my seat. "So he communicates with sign language?"

Eliot nods, a little smile playing around his lips. "And text, yes. I've been trying to learn sign language for some time now, so I can translate the main things. Look, this is pass the salt, please."

I watch him do a series of hand gesture, of which he's clearly proud of. I'm glad he isn't frightened of talking to a mute person. It can be hard to communicate with them, but Eliot just sees it as a challenge he has to do perfectly. 

"What's his name?" Flynn asks. Eliot grins, all of a sudden not mad, but giddy. "His name is William. He used to take French in high school but forgot most of the stuff. I'm trying to teach him some new things now. He's a really cute guy. I can't see if he actually blushes, but I like to imagine he gets flustered when I call him a name."

His eyes are shining with joy. If he gets that much delight out of just talking about this William, I can't imagine how their mutual lectures go. "You're calling him names? Good ones, I hope?"

"Of course they're good ones! I always call him mon chérie when he sits down next to me, and though I'm sure he has no idea what it means, his eyes always close for the shortest moment. It's really cute," he rants. Mon chérie. My love. 

Flynn sniffs in the air. "Does that—do you guys smell that too?"

Oh, great. Here come the dad jokes. "This smells like love." 

Eliot slaps the back of his head, and it's well deserved. Flynn ducks away, laughing as he parks the car at the parking lot of the store. "I'm joking! I have math with him, and he actually seems like a good guy."

The store is pretty abandoned, since it's four thirty on a Monday. Me and Flynn just stand by as Eliot takes the things he needs. Truth to be told, I don't have any idea what more he needs to make us our pasta. It's like he just keeps inventing more things he could add. 

"He is  a good guy," Eliot agrees after a while. "But you know what I'm wondering? This morning—"

Oh no. 

"—when I passed Jake's room and called him up—"

I'm dead.

"—I heard strange noises. As in, strange noises." Oh great, and now he's wiggling his eyebrows at me too. It's a weird sign, him with all the groceries in his arm and then his eyebrows just. . . moving. 

Flynn joins in on exercising their facial muscles. I groan, tempted to coincidentally walk out of the store and get hit by a car. Or a bus. Either works. 

"I knew Alex was staying over, but I thought you would have fucked it all out last night," Flynn adds. I keep my eyes on the rack of food in front of me, acting like I'm searching something and very focused on that while in fact, I'm too distracted to read the labels properly. 

We're in public. They have to stop. "Can we not do this here?" Or ever. 

"Sure," Eliot shrugs, heading to the front of the store to pay. With a relieved sigh, I follow him. Flynn is walking next to me, bumping into my shoulder and grinning from ear to ear. Idiot. 

I'm dreading this conversation all the way to the car. I even look around for others cars (maybe my earlier desire can be fulfilled?), but the parking lot is empty. Damn it. 

"I'm not talking," I tell them when we're in the car. Flynn pouts. "But I've had a rough day!"

Eliot joins in, nodding and giving me his best puppy eyes. Spoiler; they scare me. "Yes! And I've had English class!"

I cross my arms over my chest. "But you never tell me about your hook ups!"

With a dropped jaw, Flynn looks at his other friend, as if to say, the audacity. "I always tell you! With details, too!"

Eliot once again agrees with him. "And we don't hook up with our lost love! You do realize this is your chance on marriage, right? He's your former best friend, former crush, and now you're hooking up! What are the chances?"

I look at the empty parking lot again, feeling weird all of a sudden. What is this feeling?

"We don't— I don't— that's not going to happen," I whisper, not daring to look at them. "It's just making out. We haven't even had actual sex yet. I don't think he wants to."

Flynn scoffs. At least, it sounds like Flynn. "Bullshit."

I make an effort to look at him, feeling a burning sensation under my eyes. "How do you know that? He's Alex. He's always been unpredictable. This isn't a chance on marriage, Eliot. This is just. . . friends with benefits. It's not even exclusive."

They glance at each other. "Of course it is! Why would he make a deal with you, only to go fucking around with other people? Jake, this is exclusive. And I've seen the way he looks at you," Eliot assures me.

Interested in that piece of information, I search his face. "In what way does he look at me?"

He grins. "Half of the time, like he want to devour you. The other half? Like he wants to hug you and keep you safe at all time, at all costs."

Before I let myself get excited and give my brain reasons to be hopeful, I carefully watch Flynn, who nods in agreement. "Yeah, man. He looks like he would kiss the ground you walk on."

I allow myself a little smile. "No, he wouldn't. He would run in front of me and do all sorts of trick so I'll trip."

With a sigh, Flynn and Eliot turn to stare at each other. "He's in denial." 

"Oh, absolutely. What do we do now?"

"Shake it out off him?"

"Like the Taylor Swift song?"

"You're not making any sense right now."

"What? You're not a Swiftie? How—How?"

"Not my cup of tea."

"Then what do you listen to?"

"AC/DC, that sort of stuff."

"You live in the past, got it."

"Am I not allowed to?" Hurt, Flynn looks at me. I'm still shocked he's not a Swiftie. Eliot is totally right; you can't not be a Swiftie. 

"You can live in the past," I nod. "But you can't hate Taylor Swift. You either love her, or I'm kicking you out of the house."

Flynn stares at me for a moment. Eliot chuckles in agreement somewhere behind him, but Flynn doesn't. Cautiously, he opens his mouth to speak. "But my dad bought that house for us."

"I don't care."

"Alright, man. Just making sure," he mumbles, widening his eyes at Eliot as a sign of help me. My French friend is smart and doesn't.

By the time the bell rings, I've successfully made Flynn listen to three albums of Taylor. 

Of course he denies liking it, but I see right through him. He's a bad liar, but he's in denial about that, too.

Eliot comes back with Dante and Alex. I'm a little nervous about tonight, just because we're not hooking up. It's not Sunday. Well, technically, this morning wasn't either, but that doesn't quite count. 

We're just having dinner, and watching a movie after. No sex. Not even anything close to it. 

I take a deep breath, calming myself. Alex walks towards me with a smile, and I only notice the bouquet in his hands now. Flowers? 

"These are for you," he grins, giving them to me. I stare at them, perplexed. "Thank you. I guess."

His eyebrows raise. "You guess? I can just take them with me again, just say so."

Possessively, I defend my flowers with the arm that's not holding them. "No! They're mine. I love them, I just didn't expect you to give me anything, that's all."

He shrugs, passing by me. I reach forward, placing the flowers in the sink with a little water. I'll give them a nice vase later. 

When I straighten again, he's right behind me, one arm around my waist. Woah. My eyes find Flynn's amused ones as he looks at us. I told you, he mouths over the table. 

I ignore him. 

"What're we having?" Alex asks, resting his chin on my shoulder as he whispers his question into my ear. I close my eyes and try my best not to shudder, but the memories of how he did this exact thing this morning flood back in my mind. He knows exactly what he's doing. 

"Some pasta, I don't remember the name," I whisper back, shuddering no matter how hard I tried. He steps back, the linger of his touch still very much present on my body. 

I turn to meet his eyes, and he backs me up against the counter. Fucking hell. Our chests almost chest as he rests his hands on both sides of my body. "We'll see what's more delicious, then. You, or the pasta."