Tongue-Tied – Franklin U Read Online Christina Lee

Categories Genre: M-M Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
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“I’ve got a free period, so I’ll take mine to the center of campus.”

“Good idea,” Milo says, grabbing a bucket. “I’ll hang mine near the dining hall.”

We head out the door and in a similar direction to help spread the word.

I spot Austin at the coffee cart, but he’s too busy to pay me any attention, which is normal before morning classes.

Even a week later, I still feel like shit for encouraging him to talk to Darren. And to make matters worse, he seems bummed about it too. Unless I’m projecting. But I can’t help wanting to encourage him whenever I get the chance. I know there’s someone out there for him, so they need to hurry up and make themselves known.

Austin won’t admit it, but Kael having Angelica over all the time must be annoying. I didn’t bring hookups back to our dorm when we lived together for that reason. I didn’t want him to feel bad or get total FOMO, like he was missing out on something big. Not that I hooked up that much last semester. Not only because of my busy schedule but also because it was more fun spending time with my bestie. But Kael and Austin don’t have that type of friendship. Yet. God, listen to me. I would normally love that for him, so why was I in such a mood when it came to him?

A girl points as she walks by. “What are those for?” I step away from the poster so she can read it, hoping the instructions make sense. “So, we just take a flower, hand it to someone, and ask them to meet at your mixer?”

“That’s the idea.” I hand her a few stems. “It’s your admission into the party.”

“Can it be a friend, or is this like a⁠—”

I hitch a shoulder. “Anyone you want to party with that night.”

“I’m in.” She walks toward a table of her friends. I watch as she hands out the flowers and then motions to the poster. The girls smile and nod. Guess the concept is working. Not that I had doubts; it worked well last year. The flower stems are a bit worn, but as more people take the offerings, I suppose I can see how nice it might feel to be handed a flower, even if they’re leftovers from another mixer. I’ve never given them to anyone in my life. Like I said, there’s not a romantic bone in my body. But Austin likes flowers, and Mom does too, especially if they come from one of her horrible boyfriends.

Speaking of Austin, now that the line has died down, he’s looking a bit less harried. Until the guy he ran into last week steps up to order coffee. The awkwardness is written all over Austin’s face, and even from this distance, I can tell he’s tongue-tied.

That gives me an idea, and before I can think it through, I grab two stems from the bucket and head toward the coffee cart, knowing I still have time before my Community Politics class.

Once the customer walks off with his order, I sidle up to Austin and hand him a flower. “What’s this for?”

“It’s the invite to our Poli House mixer.” Then I hand him the other one. “Before you miss this chance, catch up to that guy you can’t stop staring at.”

“What?” He glances over my shoulder. “No! I can’t… I wouldn’t…”

“You have a lull in customers, so this is the perfect time.”

I nudge him toward the walkway, where he takes a few confident steps, then freezes when the guy stops to throw something in the trash can.

Austin squares his shoulders, then starts walking again. Except he trips on a crack in the sidewalk, stumbles, and the flower goes flying. Christ.

I jog to him to make sure he’s okay, but he’s already standing and patting his knees.

By this time, the guy is staring, his eyes wide. “Everything okay?”

“Uh-huh.” Austin’s face is so inflamed you can barely see his freckles.

“You dropped something,” I say to the dude, still in help-out-Austin mode.

“Huh?”

Catching on, Austin points to the flower.

The guy shakes his head. “No, that’s not mine.”

“That’s a flower for the Poli House mixer this weekend. We’ve been passing them out all morning. It’s your ticket to get into the party.”

Austin, who’s now holding the flower, juts forward. “So, um, you want to go in case…I mean, in case you can make it.”

“I’m not sure if I can,” he says but takes the offering.

Austin sputters. “It’s not a prob…it’s no big thing. Just forget it.” He turns away, the apples of his cheeks ruddier than his hair. “Feel free to hand it to someone else, then.”

The guy nods, holding my gaze for entirely too long. “I appreciate the invite though.”

“Yeah, sure. Maybe we’ll see you there after all,” I add since it wasn’t a flat-out no. And though I have a sneaking suspicion the guy is confused about which of us invited him, I ignore it. This is about Austin building more confidence.


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