Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
It was expected. They were becoming infamous, and soon, all on the streets would know their names.
Day preceded God toward the locker room. After he closed the door, the two exchanged a long look, silent but telling. Sharing another moment between them, the kind that spoke without them needing to utter a single word.
Day
Four months later, Valentine’s Day…
The city had been buzzing all week with the lovey-dovey energy of couples and friends preparing for Cupid’s holiday. Some walked down the streets carrying bouquets of flowers, dozens of balloons, and roses in every color, from rainbow to black. Nearly every darn restaurant—except fast-food joints and dive bars—was booked for the entire weekend.
Day fell into one of those categories this year. He’d been seeing a guy off and on since college, but they’d never been intimate, and he was hoping that changed tonight.
Prescott Vaughan was a gorgeous chef who’d made it all the way to the big screen after graduating from college and then a prestigious culinary school. He had cookbooks, a huge online presence, and hundreds of thousands of fans. Day had been surprised when Prescott reached out to him and said he’d be in Atlanta recording an episode at a high-end restaurant downtown and wanted to get together on the fourteenth.
Day stood in front of his mirror in his small bathroom, changing his shirt for the fourth time, debating whether to stay home tonight.
Fuck, but I don’t want to.
This was a moment with his longtime friend that he’d been waiting for since their freshman year. They were finally going to stop dancing around what they both wanted and have one amazing night in each other’s arms before his friend returned home to Virginia.
But as he glanced over his shoulder toward the living room, where God was reclined on his couch with his big boots propped up on his coffee table, scrolling on his phone, he continued to second-guess his decision.
God’s belt was undone, the top button of his jeans was open, and the zipper was down, appearing as if he had no intention of leaving.
Day wondered if it was fucked-up to leave his partner alone in Day’s apartment on the one day of the year he loathed, especially since Day wasn’t returning until morning.
“Man, you sure you wanna go out tonight?” God’s voice was rough.
He seemed to be going for nonchalant as he kept his eyes trained on the large binder, but Day had noticed he hadn’t turned the page in over an hour.
Day didn’t talk much about his personal life, and God didn’t discuss his random hookups, as if neither wanted details. But the tension between them had been off all week. The looks they’d exchanged were darker and said a bit more than usual.
Day hesitated before he sighed and squeezed the back of his neck.
“Come on, God. I’ve got a date.”
God pfft’d, all smug and condescending.
“Just seems strange you’d rather go out with one of these brainwashed fools on this so-called holiday instead of hanging out here, eating a pizza, and watching the game?”
Day turned and frowned. “We do that all the time. I need a night out.”
“You gotta work early,” God growled. “You’re being irresponsible.”
Day rolled his eyes as God murmured something else under his breath.
He dropped his head and braced his hands on the sink. Fuck. He wanted Prescott, but he also didn’t want to leave God. He made eye contact with God when he walked out of the bathroom.
Day could’ve sworn he saw regret and want—or was that need—as a heavy silence hung in the air. He didn’t like the ache of not knowing what the hell was going through his partner’s mind or if it could possibly threaten their connection.
Yeah, Day had a date, but there was no one more important than God in his life besides his family.
But God wasn’t gay. At least Day hadn’t heard of him dating men, not even in the past.
It was as if God hadn’t had a life before he went into the academy. He’d served in the military, but it was a topic he didn’t discuss, and his childhood was completely off-limits.
God had to have been hurt in the past and had chosen to bury it deep down in an inaccessible place that no one, not even God himself, was allowed.
The doorbell sounded throughout his place—shit, Pres is early—and God abruptly leaped up from the couch and stormed across the room.
“God,” Day called out, hurrying toward the door, but he wasn’t fast enough.
God yanked the door open and scowled down at Prescott in a way that made him jerk back.
“Um, good evening. Is Leonidis here?”
“No,” God snapped and tried to slam the door.
“Hey!” Day caught the door and shoved God from blocking the entrance.
Prescott saw him and rushed into his arms.
“Hey, handsome. Damn, it’s good to see you. I missed you.”