Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“Your mom was just teaching me a little about taking care of the plants,” he says, his voice a little awestruck.
“It’s nice to have you around. Someone else I know has no interest. You come spend any day you want with me, Evan. Even if Mr. Black Thumb doesn’t want to come. At least one of my boys appreciates gardening.” Mom smiles at me and winks, but a small gasp rushes past Evan’s lips.
I wrap an arm around him and squeeze his shoulder in support. “Stop trying to steal Evan away from me,” I tease her. “We’re out of here.”
Really, we do need to go, though. I cock an eyebrow at Mom and she catches my hint, obviously realizing I need to be out of here at a certain time.
“Fine. I have a few errands I need to run anyway.”
Evan’s quiet as we go back inside the house. He washes his hands while Mom gives me a hug by the door. She cups my cheeks and whispers, “You’re in love with him.”
“Maybe,” I answer because I need to sort through my own thoughts, and I’m definitely not telling her before I tell him.
“A mom knows. And I approve.” She smiles and kisses my cheek. Evan comes out of the downstairs bathroom then and Mom hugs and kisses him too. “I’ll see you soon, mijo,” she tells Evan.
“Thanks again for having me and for letting me help.”
“Anytime.”
“I like your mom,” Evan says when we’re in the car driving back.
“She likes you too.”
He doesn’t reply, and somehow, I know just to give him space. That he has a lot on his mind, likely his own family compared to mine.
It makes me reconsider what I have planned for this evening. Maybe he’s not in the mood? But I shove those thoughts away because I know this is something Evan will want, and he deserves to have more good in his life.
“Where are we going?” he asks when it becomes clear I’m not heading to Midtown.
“You’ll see.”
When I park in front of the recording studio, he looks at me, his brows pulled together.
“You look cute when you’re confused.”
“What are we doing here?”
“My friend Donovan knows the owner through an ex of his. He got us an hour of recording time.”
“Oh my God. Are you serious, Frankie? I suck!”
A laugh tumbles out of my mouth. “You don’t suck, but you’re not the best, and who cares? You have fun doing it. That’s what matters. They know we’re not here for anything serious. Donovan said the guy who is helping us out knows this is just for fun.”
When he doesn’t look convinced, I nudge him. “Come on, Ev. You get to be a pop star for an hour. Let’s get in there, Britney.”
“Not Britney.” He grins.
“Gaga?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“Cardi B?” He playfully pushes my arm and laughs.
“I think I’d be even worse at rapping than singing.”
Reaching out, I rub the back of his head, his nape, and say, “It doesn’t matter who you are. Just go in there and have fun, Pup. You got this.” Opening the glove box, I pull out the collar, with his tag attached. “I brought this in case you needed it.”
His eyes go wide. “I can’t wear that in there!”
Shrugging, I say, “You actually could, but put it in your pocket then. Puppies don’t care what other people think. They just want to have fun. Just go in there and have fun, Pup,” I say again.
And somehow, that does it. Evan leans forward, his tongue slipping into my mouth. I follow his lead, let him kiss me, let his tongue taste me first and only groan slightly when he pulls away. Luckily, he doesn’t go far, his forehead against mine. “Thank you, Frankie.”
He takes the collar from me and puts it into his pocket.
Jeremy, the guy we’re supposed to meet, is at the door waiting for us.
He shows us the booth we’re going to use, all the equipment, and explains the process.
“I already gave them some of your favorites,” I tell Evan before Jeremy leads me from the booth. I follow him back out to the desk with way too many lights, buttons, and all sorts of other shit for me to pretend to understand any of it. He hits a switch, which I assume is a speaker into the room.
“You ready? I think we have Ariana Grande first,” Jeremy asks him.
I see Evan reach down as though he’s feeling the collar in his pocket, before he puts the headphones on and nods.
He starts out even worse than he usually is but by the time we go from Ariana Grande to Demi Lovato, you can tell he’s really starting to feel it. With each song, he gets into it more, sings with more passion, loses himself in it. He’s still bad, really fucking bad, but it doesn’t matter. The only thing that does is the joy on his face and the passion in his voice. How much fun he’s having. Letting go.