Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
People like him were what my family thought of when they heard the word “gay”—the high laugh, the perfectly arched eyebrows, the slim, tight body on display in those flashy clothes. I hated being lumped in with those types of guys because I was nothing like them—I looked like a normal guy. The way I saw it, wanting to be with a man meant wanting to be with a man, and I couldn’t relate to somebody like that—someone frilly who flounced and sashayed and might as well have had rainbows and glitter coming out of his ass. But for some inexplicable reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
When the flaming photographer finally finished dealing with the camera crisis and snapped the picture, Tracy, a woman from my con law class said, “Thank you so much!” She bounced over to him, stood really close, and put her hand on his chest. It should have been funny, watching her bark so hard up the wrong tree, but instead of laughing, I found myself frowning. And walking toward them.
“I’m Tracy Harrison,” she said. “What’s your name?” I couldn’t be sure from my angle, but it looked like she was fluttering her lashes.
“I’m Chase Rhodes.” His blue eyes twinkled as he gestured toward the woman who’d walked in with him. “And this is Selina Hernandez.”
“I appreciate this, Chase,” Tracy said dramatically. “I totally owe you.”
“You’re fine,” Chase said with a chuckle. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No, seriously,” Tracy insisted. “I’m a good baker. I can make you cookies or brownies and drop them off when I pick up the film. Where do you live?”
“Queens. But I work on—”
“I’ll get the film from him,” I said inexplicably. I marched over and grasped his bicep, knocking away Tracy’s hand in the process. “With the way he looks, I seriously doubt he eats brownies.” I tugged on his arm and said, “Let’s go,” as I started pulling us toward the door.
“Uh, where’re we going?” Chase asked me, amusement clear in his tone.
Was he laughing at me? I glared down at him and snapped, “To get that film for Tracy.”
“The film’s in my camera.” He jiggled the camera at me.
“Oh.” I frowned and then wondered why I felt disappointed. “Ahem, right.” Chase raised one thin eyebrow and looked at me expectantly. Those lashes looked even longer up close, and his eyes were amazing, a clear turquoise with flecks of navy. I felt my dick filling in response to his attention, which pissed me off. “So why’d you need his address, Tracy?” I growled.
“To get the film,” she said slowly, looking at me like I was the one not making sense.
“You heard Chase,” I said. “He has the film. You were just trying to get his address!”
“Uh,” Tracy said slowly. Then she shifted her gaze from my face to my hand, which was still wrapped around Chase’s surprisingly firm bicep. “Oh,” she said, her expression indicating that she finally understood something, probably the fact that her come-on had been transparent. “I see. Okay, Adan, you get the film from him. Just make sure to get it to me, okay?” Then she giggled and said, “Selina, right? Want to get a drink and leave these two alone?”
I felt heat rise up my neck when her implication registered.
“Sure,” Selina said. She kissed Chase on the cheek, handed him his bag, and said, “Call me later, honey.”
The two of them walked away, arm in arm, and I was left alone with a guy who looked like he had just stepped away from a Pride parade.
“So,” he said, his voice taking on a singsongy quality.
“What?”
“I think you just cost me some home-baked brownies.”
“What’re you talking about?” I asked.
“Your friend Tracy”—he flicked his eyes toward the bar, where Tracy and Selina had gone—“said she was going to bake for me. But now that you’ve taken on the responsibility to collect the film, I’m out the brownies.”
I was pretty sure he was flirting with me, and I didn’t like it. We were in public, a bunch of my classmates were nearby, he wasn’t my type, and, worst of all, it was making my dick so hard I ached.
“Collect the… just give me the film,” I snapped. “We already established you have it.”
“No can do,” he said patiently. “I’m only halfway through the role.”
“Then finish it off,” I said. “I’m sure you can take a couple of pictures here really fast and then give me the roll and leave.”
His eyes widened in surprise, and he yanked his arm away from me, making me realize that I hadn’t let go. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but I just got here and I’m not leaving until I have a drink with my friend.”
“My problem?” I asked incredulously, taking a step forward to close the distance he had put between us. “What’s your problem? Is it the cost of the film?” I reached for my wallet. “How much is it? I’ll pay you for it.”