No, hookups weren’t my thing, but I’d stepped across that line six weeks ago with the last person on earth I should have. The memories of playboy Aslan in my bed were still too ripe and raw in my brain. The constant reminder he’d left behind—the literal notch in my bedpost—had been both good and bad. It had helped me stay firm when it came to Jack, but it had also made Aslan and our activities hard to forget. This was why I didn’t do hookups. I made everything personal when in reality, I was no more special to Aslan than all the people who’d gone before me.
