Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I rise abruptly from the ottoman, causing Samuel to lean back onto the bed with surprise. “In other words, you won’t change.”
He frowns, sitting up. “You want me to change?”
“You’re insufferable, Samuel.” I swipe the first aid kit off the bed by its handle and storm off to put it away.
He grabs my arm, stopping me just outside the bedroom door. “Hey, listen, I’m not trying to start somethin’ here, but—”
“You’re bandaged up,” I remind him. “That means we’re done. You can return to looking around for your tool, since … y’know … that’s allegedly the only reason you’re here. Please let go of me.”
His jaw tightens. His cheeks redden.
His lips purse with frustration.
There is something magical that happens to his face when he gets like this—magical and adorable. I may never know why I’m stuck standing here on this second floor landing, transfixed by the inexplicable effect I seem to have over this man, instead of continuing to storm off to the bathroom like I intended to do.
Honestly, a part of me wishes he wouldn’t let go of my arm.
Before he has the chance to, voices come from downstairs. It seems to end our tension at once, and as if sharing a mind, he lets go of me and the pair of us float to the banister. Down below in the kitchen, I discover the men I had expected to find earlier: Billy and Tanner. I don’t quite know what they’re looking for, but whatever it is seems to be forgotten as Tanner goes in for a surprise tickle attack, causing Billy to yelp out, then slap a hand over his own mouth to keep quiet, muffling his laughter. “Stop that!” he hisses at Tanner, who has a devilish grin as he keeps tickling and teasing his husband. The two of them end up against the counter after their playful scuffling tires out, then all of their chaotic energy turns gentle. They peer deeply into each other’s eyes. Then they kiss. Tanner—big, muscular, and full of all that football aggression and strength he’s known for—turns into a tender baby as he caresses his husband, kissing him so gently, you’d think Billy was made of nothing but spun sugar. When the kiss ends, they settle into each other’s arms and quietly begin talking about something I can’t make out.
“I want that someday,” whispers Samuel.
I look at him. He’s leaning against the banister, his body right next to mine, our shoulders touching. I didn’t realize how close we were standing to each other.
“I want a man to be silly with,” he goes on. “Someone who can look at all of my stupid and love me anyway. To see all of my gross and love me anyway. To look at me the way Tanner looks at Billy, the way Billy looks at Tanner.” He folds his arms on the banister and rests his chin on them, looking like a boy wishing upon a star at a windowsill. “I know I’ll have that someday. I can feel it. But … every morning I wake up, that day feels further away.”
“And yet you keep hoping,” I murmur thoughtfully.
“Yes,” he answers, still staring down at them, caught in his little dream world. “I do.”
After letting his words sink in, I cross my own arms on the banister and rest my chin on them, too, mirroring Samuel. The first aid kit still hangs lightly from my fingertips, its white plastic handle resting against the banister. Both of us watch the lovebirds downstairs who, if I have the math right, will be celebrating their seven-year anniversary in another week.
Seven years.
“Wow,” I breathe, despite myself.
Samuel glances my way. “Hmm?”
I watch the unaware couple for a while, not answering at first. Then I tilt my head. “I want that, too, you know. But … without the messy beginning part.” I watch Tanner run a hand through Billy’s hair. “I don’t know their story, Billy and Tanner’s story, how they met, how they fell in love … all that mushy stuff. Maybe no one knows their real story except them. But I don’t want to deal with the first date awkwardness. Or all the tit-for-tat gift-giving. With anxiously hovering around my phone waiting for my crush to call. I hate all of that. I hate the ritual, the dance. I just want the happy ever after. The ‘settled’ state. The security of knowing the man I have, the man I love, he’ll be the man I always have … and he will never go away, no matter what.”
“Why??” hisses Samuel, nearly offended by my spiel. “Malckie, you’re skippin’ all the fun stuff!”
“It’s not ‘fun’ for me. It’s anxiety. It’s stress. It’s … everything I loathe about human interaction.”
“It’s amazing,” he argues with dreamy stars in his eyes. “That whole beginning stuff. The excitement of getting to know him. Of learning what he loves. Learning what sets his eyes ablaze. Feeling that … that … that prickle of electricity on your fingertips when you first dare to touch him. And then what happens when you at long last go in for that first kiss …” Samuel’s eyes close. “It’s some kind of magic I don’t think has a name. I think it’s where true love begins, right at that first promise of affection, that first giving up of your inhibitions, letting down your walls, and just … surrendering to that kiss.” He comes out of his dream and looks at me. “That’s the good stuff.”