Page 80 of The Hookup Experiment

"Don't bring the Bud Light into this."

"You said it."

He laughs and presses his lips to mine. "You thought it."

"No."

"Is that our first lie?"

"Really." I stand and stretch my arms over my head. "I'm not thinking anything."

"Forgot your own name?"

"And yours. Who are you, anyway?"

"Mister O."

"Oh my god." A laugh spills from my lips. "Are you always this cheesy?"

"Basically." He stands and pulls me into a hug. "Come on. You need to save yourself from my cooking skills."

"I eat grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch. I'm a normal college student," I say. "Sorta."

"You don't cook?"

"Sometimes," I say. "Not often."

"Do you want to?"

"Now?" I move into his kitchen. It's nice. Modern. This entire place is nice. But then he didn't answer my question last time. How does he afford it?

I guess that's a little personal. Money is more taboo than anything in the US.

"No. I want to take a nap then go for round three," I say.

"Greedy."

"Always."

He smiles. "I don't have bread—"

"Of course you don't."

He raises a brow.

"You're very…" I motion to his biceps. His chiseled torso. "Ripped."

"Thank you." He laughs again. "That's not why."

"Sure it isn't."

"I don't eat it fast enough."

"Uh-huh."

"I have my own cheese delivery system," he says.

"Oh?"