Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Oliver shrugged and told him, “It’s okay, Matty. This is a second home to you.”
He’d been able to see the embarrassment there. The color in Matt’s cheeks. But he’d rolled his eyes and said, “Your lazy ass just doesn’t want to get up to answer the door.”
“And your bossy ass just wants to make me do it.” But even back then, he’d known that wasn’t it. That Matt hadn’t felt comfortable until it happened without his intent.
And now, years later, he did the same thing the second day he was back in LA.
“Oliver?” Matt called, and Oliver stepped out of the darkened hallway where he’d been pathetically thinking about the past.
“Hey.” How’d it go? He wanted to know but he didn’t ask.
“Hey. You working?”
He should be. “No. My muse isn’t cooperating. He needs some stimulation.”
“So you’re jerking off then?”
Why did Matt’s reply not surprise him? “Already tried that.”
“Must be serious if an orgasm didn’t help. Especially after your failed threesome attempt.” Matt winked.
“Fucker,” Oliver replied, shaking his head but Matt didn’t keep their teasing going.
He cocked a dark brow at him and crossed his arms. He wore a tight-fitting, light pink T-shirt with a V-neck and a pair of jeans Oliver knew likely cost more than any of the clothes he’d ever had as a kid. “I guess The Getty will have to do then,” Matt continued.
Without any direction from his brain, Oliver frowned. It shouldn’t be, but it was a little unsettling how well Matt knew him sometimes. How he knew what Oliver needed without much thought. “How did you know?”
Matt almost looked hurt at the question as he cocked his head and eyed Oliver. There was something in the set of what was usually a delicate jawline. He finally answered with, “Come on. How could I not know?”
And that was the thing—no matter what, Matt knew him. He’d known Oliver for years, honestly, in ways even Chance and Miles didn’t know him. He wasn’t sure how that had happened since he’d known Chance and Miles longer, but it was the truth.
The museum always relaxed him. It always helped him clear his head. Made him feel at ease in his skin. He’d minored in art history and always had a love of art, and Matt remembered Oliver’s private routine of going to the museum. Of course he did. “You’re right, dumb question. Davis is fucking with my head.”
“Probably because it’s three books in and he hasn’t gotten laid yet. You should write more sex.”
Matt reached back and opened the door. “Can I go?” he asked. Oliver didn’t reply, merely looked at Matt until he said, “You’re right, dumb question,”—the words Oliver had just said to him—and the two of them walked out of the house to spend a day together the way they’d done too many times to count.
*
The first time Matt had gone to The Getty was with Oliver. He hadn’t understood it then—Oliver’s desire to go to the museum because he’d had a bad day. How the fuck could that help?
They were about…fifteen years old. Oliver had been stressing himself out because they had to do a method acting piece for their drama class and he didn’t think he could do it. He’d always put a lot of pressure on himself with anything he did but he hadn’t needed to. He always succeeded in whatever he tried.
“You’ll be fine,” Matt had told him because he knew it was true. There wasn’t anything Oliver couldn’t do, but he’d nearly had a panic attack, and Matt suggested they do something to get his mind off of it. He sure as shit hadn’t expected Oliver to say The Getty but he had, so Matt had gone, and somehow…it had helped.
He’d gone often with Oliver over the years. Chance and Miles only went one time with them. Other than that, it was always just Matt and Oliver. That was why he couldn’t understand the reason he’d acted surprised Matt had mentioned it. Had that much space really wedged between them? Did he really think that Matt could actually forget important parts of who his best friend was? The thought made him sad. He was determined to fix it, to bridge the gap he’d created because Matt knew it had been himself, not Oliver who’d done it.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been here,” Matt said as Oliver drove up North Sepulveda Boulevard.
Oliver glanced his way. “Ten years. We never went when you came back to visit, right?”
No…no they hadn’t. Matt suddenly wondered why that was. Sure, he hadn’t been out in a few years, but in the beginning, he’d come yearly. Why hadn’t he suggested doing something he knew Oliver loved so much? “No, we never did. So the last time would have been a few days before high school graduation.”