Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
When I get home from work, I feed Charlie-boy and curl up on the couch with my Kindle. Time to escape from the world a little bit, but I can’t concentrate on reading right now. I just miss Jackson so much, and I want to see him again, even though I know what a crap idea that is.
My phone vibrates beside my leg, and I check it.
He’s calling again.
Who the fuck calls this much anymore? Seriously…did he forget how to text?
I want to answer, but I need to put my foot down. We can’t keep doing…whatever it is we’re doing.
Not five minutes later, I hear a knock at my door.
He did not come all the way over here to see me. He…did…not.
Of course, I know he totally did. That’s so something he would do.
I answer the door, and Jackson stands there in a black polo that’s snug against his body and a pair of jeans that wouldn’t take long to shove to his feet so I could suck him off. That annoyed expression he’s making only makes me want to give him even more relief.
“Can’t get enough of me?” I ask.
“Why aren’t you returning my calls?”
“I texted you.”
He arches his brows.
“I’m not your kid. It’s not my job to respond to everything you send me. But I’m sorry. I’ve been busy at work.”
“You cut hair nine to five.”
“Then I guess I’ve been busy with other things.”
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. His silent disappointment says it all.
“You’re really good at giving that father guilt.”
“I rarely have to use it.”
Silence. I can tell he’s not budging. He wants to talk to me. And maybe we need to talk about this, if only so that we can end this now. Problem is that I don’t want to end it.
“You might as well come in,” I say, turning and leading him into my place. He follows me into the living room, and I take my seat on the couch, moving my Kindle onto the side table. He sits down, keeping a good distance between us.
“What are you reading?” he asks.
“Some stupid book. He’s the slave of a princess on another planet. She has a rebellious spirit and needs the love of a big, strong man.”
He grins. “Kind of like you?”
“I mainly read books like this to make fun of them,” I lie. “Anyway, why are you sitting way over there? You afraid your lust will consume you, and you won’t be able to deny the potent desires that rage within your aching heart?”
“I think you’ve been reading that book a little too long.”
“Same page for about an hour,” I confess.
“Is everything okay?” I see the concern in his steel-gray eyes. He doesn’t look bothered that I haven’t responded to his voicemail anymore. Just worried about me.
“Yeah. Everything’s fine. Why?”
“You seem unusually serious today. Like something happened. Is there anything you need to tell me? You know, I’m here if you have something serious going on in your life.”
He reminds me of Gary and Hayden. They don’t tell me when they’re worried about me, but I can tell when they are. And they try to encourage me to share my life with them because they want to be good friends, but there are some things that I don’t like talking about…with anyone.
“It’s not your job to worry about me, Jackson,” I say, even though it feels nice knowing he does.
“So you just haven’t returned my calls because you’re not interested in doing anything with me?”
I might as well just cut to the chase. I don’t want to go round and round with him. I don’t want him to think I’m running some sort of game. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on. You say you want me. You kiss me. But we don’t have sex…even though I’m fairly sure you want to have sex with me. I can’t read you, which I’m really fucking good at, by the way. So I’m a little confused about why you want to take some silly tango classes with me.”
“Are you asking me why I want to take the classes with you instead of just fucking you?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m asking.”
“You’re not just some trick to me.”
“What are we then? I don’t get what’s going on here.”
“I don’t either, but I like you.”
“So are we friends?”
“I like to think we’re friends, but what I feel for you is more than I would feel for a friend.”
“There you go again. Is that from like the father’s handbook of evasive answers?”
“That’s not me being evasive. That’s me being honest. Most people understand that the only way to get to know a person is to keep spending time with each other.”
“So you like me?”
“You know I like you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
“I just wanted to make you say it. I like you too, kinda. Whatever.”