Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
I keep my eyes on the screen. “It makes me feel good. I like the contact. Oh. They’ve added some new stuff on here. Lots of choices. See anything you like?”
“Yeah.”
“Which one?”
I turn my head when he doesn’t answer and holy fuck, he’s looking right at me and smirking while he chews.
Jake is flirting. No way. No way!
He means me, doesn’t he?
I want him to just say it so I don’t drive myself crazy wondering. And when he doesn’t, I want to ask him, but I’m scared, too scared. I couldn’t leave myself open for that kind of rejection if I’m wrong, so I don’t say anything or even acknowledge what I think he means.
I look back at the TV and pretend this little moment between us never happened, because it can’t happen anyway. We both know it can’t.
“This looks good,” I say, clicking on something, anything.
I don’t even read the description before I cue it up. I only care about drowning out the pounding beat of my heart. I’m worried Jake can hear it.
He holds the bowl between us, and I grab a handful.
“Do you live here by yourself?” he asks.
“Yep. Well, my dad shows up sometimes, but I haven’t seen him in a while.” I pop a pretzel into my mouth and chase it with a few M&M’s. “I know it’s a big house for just one person, but my mom left it to me when she died. It’s been in her family forever. And it reminds me of her, so I don’t think I’m ever going to move.”
“You shouldn’t. It’s nice out here. Quiet.”
“Sometimes too quiet.”
I feel him look over at me. “It’s starting. Shh,” I say.
Our fingers touch when we both go for the same Oreo.
“You can have it,” Jake says.
I find him another one and blindly hand it over, and we both bite into them at the same time.
I bet that means something, my mind whispers.
I lick the crumbs off my lips and pretend I don’t hear it.
I think the movie was good?
Honestly, I’ve been a little distracted.
Once the bowl is discarded on the table and Jake rests his hand on his thigh, I zero in on it and block out everything else, because we’re sitting so close that his pinkie finger is also touching my thigh. Just barely, but it’s enough. And he keeps moving it side to side, lightly rubbing the same spot on my jeans over and over, but he won’t look at me or smile at the TV or anything, so I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it. And I just want to tell him to either put his entire hand on me or stop, but I also never want to speak again and just let this continue happening forever.
But then the credits roll, and Jake stretches his arms above him, and I’d be furious about the missing contact, except now his shirt is rising up and up, and I get a glimpse of his hard stomach, and his abs have abs, and I’m not mad about this at all.
But something happens to my brain. It short circuits or leaves my body completely, because I blurt out the most ridiculous question I’ve ever asked anyone.
“Want to sleep over?”
I sound like I’m five and asking my best friend to stay the night, but I never got to do that.
I never had a best friend, so I can only imagine what I would’ve sounded like.
But I’m sure Jake will laugh at me any second now and take a pass. We’re both in our twenties and grown men don’t typically have sleepovers (unless it’s sexual and we all know that can’t happen), so I wait for the rejection I know is coming.
“Um.”
Um.
That’s all he says. He’s considering this…
Whoa. Does he actually want to stay?
I decide yes, Felix, he does want to sleep over! Jake just needs some encouragement. A little push to make this decision.
And I am just the man for the job. (Blow or otherwise. Haha.)
“It’s really late,” I say. “And it’s not like I don’t have the room. There’s two extra beds. Or the couch. I sleep in a king.”
We both quickly look at each other, and I can’t believe I just told him how big my bed is and how easily we’ll both fit in it.
That is not the kind of encouragement he needs!
“Uh. But like, the two other beds are good too. And I think the couch is comfy. I’ve never actually slept on it, but it feels good to sit on. Plus, I can make us breakfast in the morning. I think I’m good at that.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “I like breakfast.”
Fuck yes, he does. FUCK YES HE DOES.
“Good!” My eyes widen when he laughs at my outburst. “Um. So, you should stay. Stay, Jake. Because it’s late. And because I have the room. And, well, because we both like breakfast.”