Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
I conceded, “Okay, so it’s not impossible.” Then I asked, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay watching Sadie over Christmas? I know it’s asking a lot, and—”
My friend sighed dramatically. “That was such a clumsy subject change! And yes, your dog and I will be just fine. As you obviously know because you already gave me my Hanukkah present, I’m Jewish, so Christmas is just a day to eat Chinese food and stay home watching movies. I even have the week off since the restaurant’s closed, so stop fretting.”
“Okay.”
“Now, what about condoms? I haven’t seen you pack any.”
“I won’t need them, because I’m not going to be having sex.”
“But what if you’re wrong? What if things heat up, but you can’t do anything about it because you’re unprepared? That would be a tragedy.” It was easier to just pack them than to argue. I moved a small bottle of lube and a box of condoms from my nightstand to the bag, and Timothy informed me, “You’re going to need way more rubbers.”
“It’s an unopened twelve-pack.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll actually need zero, because like I said, I won’t be having sex. It’s ridiculous that I’m even bringing them.”
“It’s not ridiculous. It’s optimistic, and I applaud it. But twelve’s not nearly enough. Let’s crunch the numbers. If you do end up having sex, we’re talking about three hot, horny men in their late twenties—”
“What does our age have to do with it?”
“It means you’re all young enough to get it up multiple times a day. Now don’t interrupt me when I’m trying to do math.” He started writing in the air with his finger as he continued, “Three horny guys times six nights and seven days, multiplied by potentially being snowed in with nothing to do but bone. Three times seven, times—what, five times a day? Carry the seven…damn it, I suck at math but the answer’s a hell of a lot more than twelve, I can tell you that.”
“Well, it’ll have to do, because that’s all I have.”
“Hang on.” He jumped up and almost tripped over his bunny slippers, which were strewn across my floor. Then he ran out my open door and into his apartment, which was directly across the hall. Meanwhile, Sadie jumped up, shook herself, and started wagging her tail. She was a very inquisitive border collie mix, and she always found Timothy and his goings on fascinating.
He returned a few moments later and handed me a huge box of condoms, along with a massive bottle of lube. “This is from my emergency supply cupboard,” he explained.
“What kind of emergency are you planning for, exactly?”
“Well, you never know, do you? What if Stanford’s entire men’s rowing team got stuck in my apartment for a fortnight, due to some sort of heinous natural disaster?”
“Because that could happen.”
“Whatever. Just pack this stuff, and if you don’t end up using it, then bring it back. It’s always best to be prepared.”
“Fine.” Again, it was easier to cooperate than to argue, so I hid the lube and condoms among my clothes.
There was a flimsy, black garment draped over his arm, and he handed it to me and said, “Take this, too.”
“What is it?”
“An insurance policy.” I held up the semi-sheer, long sleeved black shirt and shot him a look, and he told me, “If you wear it, it’ll ensure you get laid this week.”
“Timothy, you’re like, five-ten and a hundred pounds.”
“And?”
“And I’m almost six-four and weigh twice as much as you!”
“Duh! But this stretches. See?” He grabbed the sides of the shirt and pulled them in opposite directions. “Plus, the sleeves are super long. Like, way too long on me.”
“It won’t fit.”
“It might, and if so, you’re going to look smoking hot in it. Put it on with a pair of those skimpy black briefs you packed and casually stroll out to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. I guarantee you’ll be in the middle of a dick sandwich in less than five minutes.”
“Wait. When you mentioned a spit roast, were you envisioning me as the one in the middle?”
He raised his hands in an exaggerated shrug. “Maybe. Who’s to say how this’ll all play out? I realize one of those guys is a tiny little twink, but I’m not going to automatically assume he’s a bottom. And just because you’re built like Dwayne the fucking Rock Johnson doesn’t mean I’m going to assume you’re a top, either. I do, however, assume the huge blond jock is a top. Which one is he, Kellan?”
“No, that’s Hudson. You know, you’ve met them three or four times.”
“Whatever. Like I was saying, he really screams ‘top’ to me, don’t you think?”
“I honestly have no idea what he screams to you.” I stuck the black shirt in my bag, because he wasn’t going to let it go, and wedged in my shaving kit as I asked, “What am I forgetting?”