Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
The light changes. I start to cross the road.
Griffin, I’m serious. Do it or else I will.
“I said I’m not gonna—!”
I come to a sudden stop halfway across the street, overcome at once with a feeling that’s between pissing my pants and smelling nacho cheese. Coldness rushes over my skin. Then prickling-hot heat. “W-West …?!” I choke out, alarmed. I can’t seem to take another step. My hand grabs hold of my belly like an alien is about to pop out and do a dance number in the middle of the intersection. Someone stops to see if I’m okay, but I can’t even manage a response. I’m clearly not all here, because I can’t see anything in front of me but purple, and my tongue feels fuzzy.
Then the sensation is gone in an instant.
I blink rapidly, letting the city around me return more each time I pop my eyelids open.
“West …?” I try, concerned. “W-West …?”
There’s no answer.
No feeling. No guest inside of me. Nothing at all but my own thoughts and fears.
He’s gone.
Is he free? Did he destroy himself forever? Did he return to the apartment safe and sound?
Cars are honking at me. The lights must’ve changed again. At once, I bolt the rest of the way across the road.
I burst inside the building in a panic. I can barely see my feet as I fly up the stairs and fumble for my keys as I reach my door. I peel it open, causing it to slam against the wall with a crash.
It’s not West I find in my apartment. It’s Byron and his dads, all three of whom turn my way when I bust in.
-5-
Double Daddies
“Hey, babe!” calls out Byron from the table by the fire escape, around which his dads are seated, oblivious to my state of mind. “My dads got in early, so I thought I’d have them over for a little brunch instead of lunch like we’d planned.”
I stare at all of them, paralyzed.
His smile falters. “Babe? Is something wrong?”
Yes. I left home with my ghost best friend and lost him like a puppy who got off the leash.
“N-No,” I quickly insist as I come inside and shut the door behind me. “Everything’s good and fine and, uh, perfect. Hi there, Mr. and Mr. Neal!”
I sound way too cheery.
I’m in full-blown panic and wearing a smile.
No one’s going to buy it.
“Really, you know better, Griffin. It’s Douglas!”
That comes from one of Byron’s dads: tall, slender, deep bronze skin just like Byron, with long dreadlocks that run halfway down his back. Douglas has a pair of thin glasses that rest at the end of his nose, over which two warm brown eyes study me. Next to him stands his husband Mortimer, who is nearly a foot shorter, with short, curly red hair and freckles that cover his full, peachy cheeks. He always seems cold and standoffish to me, like everything the man looks at is an annoying math problem he can’t figure out. That’s why I’ve always been more comfortable around Douglas; he doesn’t make me feel like I have secrets buried all over my face ready to be popped out of me like zits.
Even if I do.
“Sorry,” I say at once, laughing it off. “Douglas and Morty, of course, my two new dads!”
He’s about to say something else when his husband next to him fidgets. “I really do prefer Mortimer.”
“Sorry,” I apologize again. “Douglas and Mortimer. What a pleasant surprise. Did you have a safe flight?”
“There really is something quite off in this place,” says Mortimer, who begins slowly pacing around.
Douglas, who appears to be one of those men with an overflowing amount of patience and compassion, lets out a delightful sigh of happiness. “Our flight was just fine, Griffin, how sweet of you to ask. The inflight film was a tad tedious, but who watches them anyway?”
“I did,” mumbles Mortimer, stopping in front of a bookshelf as if he just spotted a goblin hiding between the pages. It’s anyone’s guess what he actually sees.
“Our hotel won’t allow us to check in for another two hours,” explains Douglas kindly. “I didn’t want to inconvenience you two, but Byron was here and insisted we come, so we directed the taxi here.”
Byron smiles at me with teeth, still setting the table.
Well, this is just fucking lovely. I’ve lost West, and now I’ve got one of Byron’s dads poking around the place like a homicide detective.
I need a minute to breathe. “Let me change my top really quick,” I decide to announce, heading across the room. “I’ll be right back to join you guys for … um …” I realize quite suddenly I have no appetite. “Well … at least for a tiny bite. I’m not that hungry.”
“Loss of appetite?” murmurs Mortimer, glancing at me from the bookshelf, like he’s taking notes. “Hmm.”