Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Hayden’s expression shifts to one that nearly matches Derek’s. “Not so much.”
“What?” I ask.
“He’s mad about the whole fundraiser thing. And we’ve already been having some…issues, so that didn’t really help.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “If I’d known you guys were having problems, I never would have asked you to help out.”
“It’s not your fault. He just gets weird about stuff like that. It makes me sad because I actually had a lot of fun.”
“Lance’s a fucking prude,” Derek says playfully. He’s clearly trying to get Hayden to crack a smile again. And Hayden does.
Derek reaches into the pizza box between us.
“What the fuck?” he asks.
The pizza’s gone.
“Holy shit,” I say.
“And the Chinese?” Derek says. He puts his hands to his face, his eyes wide with horror. “Oh my God. What have we done?”
“I haven’t had carbs since the summer started,” Hayden says.
“I was starving for the fundraiser,” I add.
“We gotta go back out and get drunk enough to throw this all back up,” Derek concludes, more as an order than a request.
“Shut up,” I say. “As if carbs even affect your twinky body.”
“I’m not a twink,” he insists. “I weigh less now than I did in middle school. They used to call me Chubby D.”
“That’s awful,” Hayden says.
“I know! I have to be careful.” But as he grabs the bottle of Chardonnay off my nightstand behind him and refills our glasses, I can tell his reaction was more an act than anything else.
We keep on chatting. Teasing. Laughing. As we start watching the movie again, we take turns quoting different parts.
I wish I’d been better friends with Hayden. Or that I hadn’t stopped hanging with Derek so much. Tonight’s just what I needed. And it’s nice seeing the light return to Hayden and Derek’s eyes as we tell stories about bad breakups and hookups gone wrong.
I needed tonight. I needed to remember that even though I don’t have Travis—can’t have Travis—at least I can have some amazing friends.
It’s not going to be easy, but I’ll get over him…eventually.
28
Travis
“What’s new with you?” Vincent asks as I knead his shoulder muscles. He’s always chatty when I give him a massage, asking about life at Metropolis, hanging out at Flirt, and things like that.
“Not much,” I reply because it’s the truth. Gary and I have chatted on the phone a few times and went to the gym together twice in the past week and a half. Aside from that and an awkward appearance at a Fourth of a July party where we pretty much avoided each other the entire time, that’s really been the extent of it.
He wasn’t asking you about Gary, dumbshit. He likely doesn’t even know about him.
I shake my head, annoyed that my train of thought automatically headed for Gary station. That’s been happening at the most random times, and I don’t fucking like it.
“Why did you stop massaging?” Vincent breaks through my Gary musings.
Shit. “Sorry. I guess a lot has been on my mind.”
“Sounds like you need something to take your mind off it. Get laid. That’s always the best way. Nothing helps like a good fuck.”
Yeah, don’t I know it, only Gary has decided we can’t sleep together anymore.
Earth to Travis, Gary isn’t the only man in Atlanta. Gary and I weren’t in a real relationship, and now that we’re not fucking, there’s even less reason why I shouldn’t go out and get ass somewhere else. As long as I’m discreet until we figure out how much longer we have to keep this fake relationship going, it shouldn’t be a problem.
“You’re right.” I run my fingers down either side of his spine. “Sex is the cure for everything.” Like trying to get your mind off fake boyfriends who whistle when they work out, like to fade into the background but let loose when they’re in the sack with you…or on a stage at Flirt. “I need a good lay.”
“I happen to know one,” Vincent replies, a little husk to his voice.
Chuckling, I tease, “Do you now? I can take a wild guess on who you mean.”
When I feel his hand run up my thigh, I realize he’s not joking. “You’re fucking hot. I always figured you played on the side.”
My body immediately tenses up. I grind my molars together. This isn’t the first time a client has tried to hit on me—male or female, and every time, it’s like spiders crawling through my veins. I like sex as much as the next guy, but there’s more to me than that. “Because obviously, a guy like me would fuck his clients, right?”
“Obviously,” Vincent replies as his hand slides around to my ass.
“Drop your hand, man. That’s not what I’m here for.”
In his defense, Vincent does just that, but then he turns his head, looks up at me and says, “Want me to suck you off? You flirt enough, and let’s not pretend I haven’t heard stories about you. I also heard you’re trying to get money for your own place.” His hand goes to the button on my jeans. “I know a guy who might be interested in helping with that.”