Ties by Steph Campbell, Liz Reinhardt

years’ we’d both be resting easier now.”
    “There are two sides to every story,” Hattie says, flicking at her bread. “It sucks that your father sacrificed so much, but he took amazing care of you and your family. I don’t know if there’s an adventure my father has ever passed up on. Ever. But his only contribution to my life has been in the form of ridiculous, fancy gifts twice a year. I don’t know him. At all. And that’s because he was busy living for his own selfish gains, you know?”
    I lean in and cup her face. She looks up, her eyes faraway. Hattie is usually so focused; it’s weird to see this distant expression.
    “Hey. We’re like two bad clichés, right?”
    “Are we?” She frowns, but she also presses her cheek into my palm. “Why is that?”
    “Your dad goes all over the world like mad, so you buckle down and follow the rules. Mine was a steadfast martyr so I live this crazy life, unanchored. Total clichés. We should help each other find some balance.” I smile and her lips curve up.
    She touches her wine glass to them and says, “What, like we can trade places? You be a focused college student with a double major and I can laze around on the love boat?” Her eyes are dancing.
    “Do you have any clue at all what it takes to sail a boat? Like, at all?” I watch her giggle into her wine and shake her head. “You have some serious lessons coming your way.”
    “Do I have to be your first mate?” she asks, slipping her foot out of one cherry red high heel. Her feet are tiny. Seriously, I’ve never seen such small feet. She wiggles her toes, the nails painted a shiny red that matches her shoes, and pokes me with them.
    “I guess you could be the co-captain eventually.” I try to joke with her, but she sets her foot on my thigh and rubs it up and down.
    “I like the sound of that.” She crooks a finger in my direction. “Come here. I’ve been thinking about kissing you.”
    As far as dirty talks goes, this is pretty damn innocent. So I have no idea why it has me so hard, there’s no blood left in my head and my eyes blur.
    I go to her. I gather her in my arms, loving how small she is. She can’t be more than five foot three. Megan was really tall, and I always thought that was my type: tall girls. But I love the way Hattie fits against me, like I can take care of her. Like I can protect her.
    And I love how she takes my stereotype about tiny girls and turns it on its head, because me feeling like I can protect her is one thing. The reality is, she’s completely able to protect herself, and that’s something I admire so damn much.
    She rubs her nose against mine, softly, and whispers, “I like the way you look, but it’s a little scary. You’re too handsome for your own good.”
    “What does that mean?” I whisper back.
    Her lips brush mine, a touch so light it shouldn’t send the shockwaves through me that it does.
    “It means you’ve probably had too many girls come at you without you having to even turn on the charm. It probably made you cocky as hell.”
    I run my hands along her cheek and thread my fingers through her hair.
    “Does that hold for you?” I close my eyes when she kisses me so lightly a second time. “Because you’re so damn gorgeous, it’s heart-stopping.”
    “That sounds dangerous,” she says, her tongue darting out to lick my top, then bottom lip.
    “As cardiac arrest,” I agree.
    She slides a hand up between us and lays it palm-flat on my chest. “You sound healthy as an ox to me.”
    I love those light kisses landing on my face, but I also want to jack what she’s been thinking and twist it a little. She likes to be in control, and that’s fine.
    It’s sweet. It’s safe.
    She needs more.
    I slide my hands down to her shoulders and along her back, pulling her close by her hips.
    “Definitely healthy.” I pull her closer, until she rubs along the length of my dick, hard and ready for her. The sound of her breath sucked between her