Hooking Up
By J.M. Snyder
Published by JMS Books LLC at Smashwords
This story is included in the print book Shorts by J.M. Snyder.
Visit http://www.jmsnyder.net for more information.
Copyright 2010 J.M. Snyder
ISBN 978-1-93575-308-7
For more titles by J.M. Snyder at Smashwords visit https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/jmsnyder
Cover Photo Credit: Ilya Glovatskiy
Used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
Cover Design: J.M. Snyder
All rights reserved.
WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.
This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
NOTE: “Hooking Up” appears in the anthology Boys in Heat, published by Cleis Press.
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Hooking Up
By J.M. Snyder
We arrange to meet at Fairpark Mall because neither of us is ready to bring the other home just yet. It’s been three weeks since we met, an eternity online, but I’m still cautious. I know what he says he looks like, know who he claims to be, but nowadays you never can tell.
I’m waiting outside the food court, leaning back against the wall with my hips thrust forward and the usual scowl on my face. My black clothes must look like a bruise against the whitewashed bricks. Through my dyed bangs, I watch people avoid looking at me as they pass. Most grimace at my goth getup; a brave few laugh. Fuck them.