Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“Ah man, don’t say it—”
“The Sox runs in my blood, kid.”
“Fuck, you said it.” I shook my head and dug into my food. “Knew you were too good to be true.”
He let out a laugh. An actual laugh—and it was fucking beautiful. He had a rich, warm, slightly scratchy voice that just did it for me.
“First time I was ever in the running for being too good,” he chuckled.
I wouldn’t know. I didn’t know jack about him, except what I’d scoped out in his wallet, and I didn’t wanna reach a new level of douchebag and dig deeper. I’d prefer to ask questions and get answers from the source.
I turned on the TV and proceeded as casually as I could. “I wouldn’t turn down the CliffsNotes of your life story.”
I’d expected his silence. Either he’d mull things over and then offer a short sentence, or he’d say nothing at all.
I hoped he would give me something. I’d caught glimpses today. He had a sense of humor, definitely. He was a hard worker. He didn’t complain. He didn’t just follow orders either; he pitched in where he saw the need. He was a math whiz…
He cleared his throat, and I pretended to scroll through game results.
“Grew up Back of the Yards, married at twenty, started a company with my brother-in-law, things were going all right, we moved to Hinsdale, had a son…” He let out a breath, and I side-eyed him. He was staring down at his food. He had a kid. And a wife? “Shit went sideways eventually. My brother-in-law, he—” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I lost everything. Then my ex-wife died about seven years ago, and bad turned to worse.”
Seven years ago. I… Fuck. I only had more questions now. But it sounded like my initial profiling wasn’t far off.
“Congrats on making me even more curious,” I said. “Why did you divorce?”
He paused, spoon midair, and furrowed his brow at me. “Why are you curious?”
I don’t fucking know.
Was it against the law to be curious? Huh?
Fuck it.
I dismissed the topic with a bitchy exit. “You sound like my ex. If I asked a simple question, he accused me of interrogating him. I was just makin’ conversation.” I looked away from him and shoveled food into my mouth.
Petey and I made damn good goulash. Our version of it anyway.
“He…? Are you gay?”
Oh, for the love of—
I couldn’t help it. That put me on edge. “Is that gonna be a problem?”
“What the fuck? No.” He scowled at me. “Why would it be a problem?”
Maybe because it was a problem for too many people.
“I don’t know.” I faced forward again and started eating faster. I was tired, evidently cranky as shit, and I wanted to get some sleep before I had to return downstairs.
I didn’t know why I was curious about Ben. I never was. Not to this degree anyway. I mean, sure, I wanted to know if they could be trusted to roam inside my home, but I didn’t need someone’s life story for that. I was more interested in if they had drug problems or if they came off as hostile.
Ben sighed. “That’s why I got divorced. I was sick of hidin’ in the closet.”
He was sick of fucking what?
I whipped my head around so fast it could’ve fallen off.
This six-foot-four Grabowski was gay?
Okay, that…that… I hadn’t seen that coming.
And maybe he hadn’t seen it coming with me either, so…we were square, I guessed.
“Huh,” was my clever response.
Goddammit.
I went back to pretending to watch the TV—some old game running—and my mind started spinning. Nothing had changed, and yet everything had. I cursed the situation and how we’d met, ’cause if this had been Grindr, I would’ve been fucked six ways to Sunday by him already, and we would’ve moved on with our lives. Except for the fact that I never brought guys back to my place. It was his place or a bar.
Hookup apps were easy. I needed a five-minute conversation, and then I’d get my shit greased one way or another.
Great, now my ears were ringing too. The air felt awkward and stiff, and I didn’t know how to act. I kinda wanted him to be straight, for the simple reason that he was ridiculously sexy, but we’d gotten off on the wrong foot for a fuck. I’d had two boyfriends in my life, and that was enough. I wasn’t interested in another, and I already knew too much about Ben.
All while not knowing nearly enough.
And that right there was the point. If I wanted to know more about a person, shit had gone too far already. I never wanted to know more about someone.
I blamed my dry spell. I’d been so focused on the bar and work and…whatever else, that I hadn’t gotten laid since…shit, since my sister had moved back to the city last fall. How fucking sad. Who needed HIV prevention when you didn’t bend over for someone? Not me.