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)
I spied a correlation.
“Why?” he asked.
I shrugged and dunked the mop in the bucket. “I’ve been thinking about my folks lately—since they retired and abandoned me.”
“Lemme go find a tiny violin.”
I flipped him off, unable to shake the grin. And it was bad. Because it made me think of something my dad had said once, right on the topic I’d just begun this conversation. I’d been…thirteen? Fourteen? It was just before I’d come out to my folks, and I’d crafted a lie about a made-up girlfriend I’d proclaimed my love for. Dad had smacked me upside the head with the newspaper and told me I didn’t know shit about love.
My regular response back then had been, “What the fuck do you know, Dad?!”
“What do I know? Oh, I’ll tell you. Sit your ass down.”
I blew out a breath.
“Lemme ask you this. Do you feel like everyone else can just fuck off? When you’re alone with this…person…do you feel like nothing else matters in the world? There’s no other place you’d rather be?”
I’d nodded like an idiot, completely missing the hint. He’d already suspected I was gay.
“Yeah, well. That ain’t love, boy. That’s a silly crush. It’s called attraction. It makes you wanna shut everybody out and keep the high to yourself. Love, on the other hand…? Love is something you wanna share with the whole fucking world. Now, go get me another beer.”
I let out a chuckle through my nose and shook my head. “My parents are happy,” I said quietly. Fuck. Time to backtrack. Man, had I spiraled. I wiped my cheek off my shoulder and cranked up the dismissiveness. “But I was just thinking about it because Ma’s the romantic who isn’t afraid to show it, while Dad’s, you know. Not. But I have a handful of sayings that’ve rubbed off on me over the years, and it hit me that all of Ma’s shit is about cleaning and hygiene. Dad, on the other hand, has, in his drunken wisdom, taught me all about love.”
“This gotta be good,” Ben chuckled.
It hadn’t been my intention to actually share what my old man had said. I’d been rambling. I didn’t know why. I was feeling chatty. Someone shut me up. What a great finale it would be now to share Ma’s “up to code, down with rats” quote.
I rolled my eyes at myself and moved on to the next table. “I’m way too sober for love quotes. Let’s focus on degreasing the floor.”
“The hell…? You build up this big thing, and then you rip out the last chapter?”
I threw him a smirk over my shoulder. “How’s that for a bright spot?”
That earned me an eye roll. “You’re somethin’, all right.”
So was he.
Like a silly fucking crush.
There was no other place I wanted to be.
Okay, here was the deal. If I could just get railed by him, this little obsession would go away. I was 100% sure. I needed one night, maybe two or three rounds of brutal, sweaty, hard fucking with zero foreplay, just slam right in there, tear up my ass until I taste him at the back of my throat.
Was that too much to ask?
Hey, Ben, if you could just do me a solid and…
I suppressed a sigh and led the way upstairs to my apartment.
He was undoubtedly dead on his feet and itching to get some sleep. He’d asked if he could take a shower, and of course he could. Then I’d leave him alone. I was gonna watch TV and eat pretzel sticks.
Ben yawned as I dug out my keys, and he stretched his arms over his head.
Fuck TV; I could watch him instead.
Hey, you wanna fuck?
Or maybe you just deep-throat me a little?
I wasn’t picky at this moment. I was clearly fucking desperate.
I unlocked the door and let him enter first.
What bothered me—well, one of the things—was that it evidently had to be him. I had no desire to go on one of my apps. But something had to give. I needed to get laid.
“Are you showering too?” he asked.
With you?
“Yeah, but you go first. I’m gonna cue up a movie to fall asleep to and find pretzel sticks and Nutella.”
He stopped short and turned around, and he gave me a strange look.
“What?” I asked. “It’s delicious.”
“Together?”
Holy fuck. He’d never tried pretzel sticks dipped in Nutella? The fuck was wrong with him?
All right, new plan. I gestured for him to follow me to the kitchen, where I found both items in my snack cupboard.
“Did I just see four jars of Nutella in there?” he asked.
“I had a coupon.” I shrugged and ripped the gold foil off the Nutella. Then I opened a new bag of pretzel sticks, dragged one gently through the chocolaty goodness, and offered it to him.
He eyed it skeptically but didn’t stall or anything. He stuck it into his mouth and chewed.