Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 140629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
It took him a while to find the keys attached to a laser-cut token shaped like a pony car, but he screamed in glee the moment he realized how smoothly the vehicle ran. Not a single issue with this pristine mechanical beast, regardless of how old it was. Oh, how he wished to show off this beauty, and flaunt it in front of the Brown brothers. Then again, those two fucks meant nothing in his new life. In this car, he was the king of the road even with the unruly damp hair that kept getting into his eyes.
He might not get to enjoy this forever, but for as long as this craziness lasted, he’d live Caspian’s life to the fullest. Only it would be a better version of it. With fun, and color, and his pert ass turning heads.
Getting to the mall was a breeze, and he entered its hallways with a spring to his step and a smile on his face as shop windows passed in front of his eyes, trying to tempt him inside. He was on the lookout for the perfect clothes, but fifteen minutes into his spree, it was starting to become clear that while he had a vague idea what kind of clothes looked attractive on the pretty twinks he’d been so often envious of, he had no reference where to find them.
Prone to distraction as he was though, he drifted off to get himself the biggest strawberry Frappuccino topped with extra cream and sprinkles. Just because he could. Usually, he’d consider it a wasteful thing to buy on his tight budget, but Caspian’s account could take that hit. The guys would have given him shit for buying a girly drink as well, but that didn’t matter when he was a tiny speck of a boy no one paid mind to at the mall.
For once, he wasn’t making any waves, he wasn’t gathering wary glances, and wasn’t followed by security. He could sit by the fountain with his pink drink, unnoticed, and not worry that someone might bother him.
He could just be.
He drifted through the corridors, surrounded by shops he’d only ever entered when carrying Sandy’s bags, still too intimidated to go into any of the ones that might stock the kind of clothes that would complement his new slender body. But as he stepped into a large circular interior that was often used for special events at the mall, his feet grew roots into the fake marble floor.
The clear song of a piano was out of sync with the pop music blasting from the speakers, but even before Gunner’s gaze drifted to the large white instrument standing next to a fountain on the side of the hall, he’d been briefly taken back to his late childhood and the lunches eaten with Mr. Wagner after boxing practice while Mrs. Wagner played the piano in the other room.
Several people stood still and watched the performer play, but most didn’t pay him any attention, going about their business while the stranger’s fingers danced over the keyboard like ballerinas repeating the same performance for the hundredth time. There wasn’t a hint of discord in the music, and when the man rocked, as if hypnotized by the melody he produced, Gunner found himself gravitating ever closer to the grand piano.
The player had longish wavy hair, which he styled back, a graceful profile, and the slender body of a model. He moved with the music, as if it was carrying him to a different world altogether.
Gunner’s fingers itched to join the musician. He could imagine himself playing alongside the stranger, showing off his new-found skills and flowing with the music they created together.
In a burst of courage he couldn’t comprehend, he approached, put his drink by the music rack, and sat by the man, who looked back at him with a frown of surprise.
But he didn’t stop playing, so Gunner closed his eyes and joined in, letting his fingers guide him over the keys. He was intimidated at first, but once he tuned in to the unknown melody, his hands found their rhythm, producing a background tune that elevated the piece, making its sound yet more refined.
The other man’s knee pressed against his in appreciation, and they moved together, floating on the waves of classical music, as if it was for everyone, not just wealthy people who could afford fancy instruments and visits to the opera.
They didn’t have to discuss anything, and the music came to an end without one awkward note, as if they both implicitly understood it needed to happen, based on prior knowledge.
Adrenaline rushed through Gunner’s veins, and he smiled widely as the small crowd that had gathered around them erupted in applause.
Gunner’s mouth stretched into a smile, even though he wasn’t sure what would have been the appropriate reaction. But when the other guy rose from the bench and bowed, Gunner hurried to follow his example and bask in the appreciation of perfect strangers.