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)
“Felix was here,” he blurts out.
I squint at his profile. “Huh?”
“Felix. Was. Here,” he repeats. “That’s what I would tattoo on your dick. Because, well, I plan on being there. More than once.” He sighs heavily. “Fuck.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. I told you to let me change the subject.”
He slows to a stop at a red light and gradually looks over at me, and we stare at each other in silence as we both pant, and this car is suddenly too small for both of us. I need air, and Felix must be thinking the same thing, because as I crack my window, he cranks the AC.
Then we’re staring across this too small of a space again, neither one of us speaking, and my dumbass decides to cut the tension with the worst possible compromise.
“You can ride me all you want, but you’re never tattooing me. At least, not there.”
Felix audibly swallows while staring at my mouth, and tells me in his surest voice, “That works for me.”
“Good. I’m glad you’re okay with that.”
“More than okay.”
“Great. Me too.”
“Awesome.”
We turn away at the same time.
“Subject change?” he asks.
“A little late for that, but sure.”
“Since you’ve seen most of my tattoos now, which one do you like the best and why?”
Kiss Here.
KISS HERE.
Instead of answering, I pretend to fall asleep.
“Jake?”
I snore, the side of my face tipped against the window.
“Ah. I bet I know… I’ve caught you staring at that new one on my neck…”
“You suck at subject changes just as much as I do.”
“Um. Not true. You’d probably talk about the last time you were tripping balls or ask me what my thoughts are on rimming.”
My eyes flash open. “Don’t answer that.”
“And then I’d say, well, Jake, funny you should ask—”
“Let’s just not talk anymore.”
“The entire day?” He looks heartbroken.
“No. The rest of the car ride.”
“Oh okay. That’s only like, two more minutes. That’s nothing.”
“Is it? Because I think we’re still screwed.”
“Completely.” He laughs, really enjoying himself now. “I really don’t want to stop talking. Just tell me what you’re thinking about.”
“I probably shouldn’t.”
“Yeah, you should.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, the crotch of my jeans suddenly too tight to stand. “I want to kiss you again.” Might as well own how bad I am at this now, because why the fuck not. “That’s what I’m thinking about. Your lips are right there.”
“Wow. I actually thought maybe you’d get us out of this.”
“I don’t even care anymore.”
“Me either.” Felix laughs. “This shit is inevitable. We’re eventually going to hook up, so what the hell? We might as well talk about what all we want to do to each other.”
“Exactly.”
“And I want to kiss you again too, so don’t think it’s one-sided.”
“I didn’t.”
“This is fun. I’m usually not this happy on Sundays. I think I love sleepovers.”
And that, hearing that fucks me even more than I already am. And I was pretty much already at my limit.
“I’m glad you’re happy,” I say, meaning that, and Felix looks over at me and smiles.
Not even two minutes later, he’s turning onto the narrow gravel road that leads to his house, and I finally look away from him and stare ahead, noticing the state of the front door before he does.
I sit forward. “You locked your door, right?”
“What?” He sees it now, pushing down on the gas. “Yeah. I always do.”
“Anyone else have a key?”
“Not anymore.”
Felix pulls in next to my Honda and slams on the brakes, both of us flying out of the car at the same time.
“Wait,” I tell him, rushing to my car and popping the trunk. I retrieve an old baseball bat I kept at the barracks for nostalgia, and then I jog to his side. “Stay behind me.”
“Wow. Okay.”
“What.” We inch up the porch steps.
“Nothing. Just—I’m picturing you in baseball pants and that is really doing something for me.”
I glare at him over my shoulder. “There might be someone in your house waiting to murder you, and that’s where your head is right now?”
“I know. But let’s remember where your mind was the entire drive home. You really can’t call me out on this, Jake.”
I shake my head, even though he’s completely right, and start moving forward again. “Just, please stay behind me.”
“No problem.”
We reach the front door, and it’s clear the person didn’t have a key and decided to smash their way inside.
The handle hangs upside down now, barely still attached by a single screw.
“Your lock is busted. You’re going to need another one.” I push the door open all the way and step inside, tightening my grip on the bat in case I need to swing, but a quick look around the kitchen lets me know it’s safe.
And completely trashed.
Everything we put away this morning is now back on the table and torn into. Some of the food is on the floor. Most of the containers look empty now, or at least close to it.