Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“Yeah, the love of my life,” Zane answered with obvious sarcasm that seemed to fire up the redhead. It seemed Roach was only needed so Zane could run his mouth without getting overpowered by two people.
“You’re such a fucking asshole!”
Zane spread his arms. “I told you I didn’t wanna do this gig. Well, too bad, now here we are. Give me my shit, and be on your way.”
Roach shook his head. Zane might be handsome, but he sure was a cunt.
The whole outing couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes, but with Callum torn between anger and sobbing, and his brother’s outright aggression, the process of reclaiming Zane’s shit dragged on.
Sid tossed Zane’s backpack to the asphalt, which resulted in a brief fight Roach had to break up, and then Callum threw two five dollar bills at Zane, which seemed like a measly sum for a third of the band’s running costs, but it wasn’t Roach’s place to question whatever pathetic operation those three idiots had run so far. By the time the old Chevy pulled out of the parking lot, Roach needed to pour some water down his throat.
Zane sighed. “Did you hear those guys? If they thought they’d get anywhere on my back, they had another thing coming. Only I’m allowed to get places on my own back,” he said and swept his hair back. He must have washed it, since it seemed denser than before, and smelled more intensely too.
"Wow, you're really full of yourself, aren't you?" Roach shook his head as he carried Zane’s backpack, eager to be done with this circus. “You treat all your boyfriends like that?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Zane said sharply, his brows lowering over intense eyes. “They forced me to come here. It’s their own fault I met you again!”
Roach smirked, but didn’t dare look Zane’s way until they reached his room. “Fate, huh?”
Zane didn’t answer, but the sound of him rubbing his boot into the floor was unmistakable. He stood close, so close it was making Roach’s nape burn, but as they entered the dark room, Zane finally spoke.
“I don’t believe in this kind of shit. Someone must have cursed us… or something.”
Roach threw the backpack onto the bed. “No shit, Sherlock.” He couldn’t help himself and pinched his own nipple to see Zane’s face.
He’d expected fury, but the wide-eyed glance Zane gave his own chest was equally priceless. “This isn’t a joke.”
Roach shrugged. “We can think about it later. I need to get all this crusted blood off me.”
He went straight for the shower, though he had no idea where they’d go from here. What was Zane’s plan? Did he think he could just move in and make Roach sleep on the floor in a room he’d paid for?
Roach stepped into the narrow stall, eager for a wash, because yesterday had been… harsh. Meeting Zane again. Bleeding, fighting, and so, so much yelling.
Finding out that Zane had been the one to set the clubhouse on fire created a whole set of mixed feelings in Roach. Was it fucked up? Yes. But also… despite Roach’s life now being far from ideal, he’d breathed with more ease since that dramatic night. The chains that used to hold him back were no longer there. Some days he missed the occasional banter, feeling like he belonged, but those sentimental thoughts quickly dispersed when he remembered the jobs he’d done for the club, or his brother’s smug face.
Zane didn’t need to know about it because Roach’s fucked-up past was none of his business. Unless they’d been cursed by Dad’s ghost or some shit.
The most ironic thing about all this? Whether Zane liked it or not, they shared a connection, and there was nothing Zane could do about it.
Reminded the hard way that fresh wounds and hot water didn’t go well together, Roach ended up soaking in a lukewarm drizzle, but as everything around him got damp, his eyes were drawn to a pair of soap boxes containing little bars, one of which had some bits of wood embedded in its burgundy flesh.
He frowned, knowing it could only belong to Zane. He glanced to the sink. Yep, the toothbrush was here as well. He’d moved in damn fast for someone who hated Roach’s guts. After a moment’s hesitation, Roach inhaled the scent of the soap bar, and leaned against the wall with a sigh when lemon and sandalwood created delicious vapors in his skull. He was getting horny just smelling it.
What a cockup. Magical, but still a cockup.
Roach glanced down at his dick. They felt each other’s pain. Did the same happen with pleasure? Would Zane know if he jerked off now? Roach was both itching to find out and apprehensive. Would it be assault to masturbate if he knew the other person experienced it unwillingly?