Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Shaw laughed. Loudly. I threw a sweet-potato fry at him, which only made him laugh louder before picking it up off his stupid, muscular chest and tossing it into his mouth.
“I can’t even with you right now,” I told him. “That had my hands all over it.”
“Lighten up. I trust that you haven’t been doing anything naughty with your hands.”
Oh, because he had to go there. “You. Wish.”
He laughed again, and I wanted to throw another fry at him. He made me act stupid, and I didn’t like it a damn bit. When he still didn’t stop laughing, I added, “You think I’m hot.”
“Um…no shit? Only I didn’t plan on telling you, but it was worth it. Seriously, the look on your face was priceless. I hate that you’re so much fun.”
Now that caught my attention. “Right? I hate that you’re kind of…nice.” And if I were being honest, I’d admit liking that he found me attractive. It wasn’t that guys never hit on me. They hit on me often, but this felt different. Like he wasn’t doing it because he wanted a quick fuck, which was the craziest thing I could think. This was Shaw.
He sat forward with his elbows on the table. My mama would hate that shit. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
“You should be.”
We were both quiet for a moment after that, and it was an awkward silence that made me try and figure out what to say to fill it, and the more I thought, the more my brain went blank, which made no sense at all. There was no reason for my pulse to be speeding up and for this silence to weigh on me so heavily, until finally I said, “Danny is coming to dinner at my apartment on Tuesday. It’s our thing.”
“Aw, are you asking me on a fake dinner date to your apartment?”
“No, I’m telling you to stay away that night.” There was a brief moment of surprise in Shaw’s eyes before I added, “I’m kidding. Yes. I guess I’m inviting you to dinner. That’s the whole point of this, right?”
“It is. Should I bring you flowers?”
“Oh God, no.” I shook my head. “No guy has ever brought me flowers before. My first time should be real.” Not that I was a big flower guy, but it was the thought that counted. It was nice knowing you were on someone’s mind.
Shaw nodded, but he looked more serious than before. “What time should I be there?”
“Danny arrives at seven, so maybe a few minutes before that?”
He nodded, agreeing to my invitation to fake-date me at my house. This was so fucked.
We were quiet as we finished eating. When the waitress returned to ask if it would be one check or two, I rushed out, “Just one.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.” The waitress smiled and walked away, and I continued, “It’s the least I can do. I feel like I should be paying you or something. Oh God. Am I supposed to be paying for your services?” I hadn’t even thought of that.
“No. That’s weird. Let’s just pretend we’re hanging out and you’re forcing me to get blue balls while we do it.”
Because of course he went there. “You won’t die if you don’t have sex for a week or two.” But the truth was, he should be able to. If he was discreet and didn’t run the risk of seeing Danny. What right did I have to tell him he couldn’t have sex if he wanted to? “What about…a Grindr trick at your apartment? Or a… I don’t even know where the straights and bis go to find women to hook up with, but find someone on there and you can have them over? I know I don’t have the right to say you can’t have fun with someone, even though it is only a week or two.” We wouldn’t need longer than that. Make Danny a little jealous, then tell him Shaw and I stopped seeing each other. The end.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll do it that way,” Shaw replied, and strangely, I felt this tightness in my chest.
The waitress brought the bill, I paid, and we left.
“We might as well walk home together,” I told him, and we headed toward our building.
Shaw had his hands stuffed in his pockets, and I went back and forth between crossing my arms and letting them dangle. When I brushed up against him, the hairs on my arms stood on end, and I stepped away.
“I don’t have cooties,” he teased.
“Boys are ew,” I joked back, earning a smile.
Shaw pulled open the glass doors of our building, and I waved to the guy at the front desk as we headed for the elevators. We were quiet and awkward, which I guessed could be because we weren’t really friends and we didn’t really know each other; and yet those things didn’t feel true.