Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“Did I? Your assailant is probably gone by now,” he points out, “if you feel like heading to your car, since I imagine you were on your way out. Or do you live within walking distance from here? My friend does.”
“Isn’t everything within walking distance?”
“Besides, I’m sure the guy’s already pinned up against a wall by some other himbo in that crowded house.”
“Some ‘other himbo’?” I give him a playful look. “Are you implying that’s all you think I am? A himbo?”
“No. Otherwise you’d have gotten bored of me already or wouldn’t have wanted my help prying that guy off you.” He gives me a onceover. “To be fair, I don’t know you at all, and … that was shallow of me to make an implication like that about you, even if I didn’t mean it. Sorry.”
Despite being particularly touchy about the subject of my character tonight, I was actually just teasing him about the himbo comment. I surely didn’t expect an apology.
Now that I’ve got one, I don’t know what to do with it.
“I drove,” I answer belatedly.
He gives me one of his cute smiles again. “Great. I’ll walk you to your car then. I’m that bored.” Then he starts ahead, seeming proud of himself. My eyes drop straight to his ass, where a sliver of his ribbed tank top has become unintentionally tucked into the back of his gym shorts, showing off his cute butt.
I yank my eyes away. Nope. Not changing my mind. No hookups. No sudden cravings for cute, sassy artist boys who talk back to me and insist I’m not their type. This isn’t a play-hard-to-get thing; this is a will-never-get thing.
He walks me to my car, parked on the curb down the street from the house. When we come to a stop, he extends his hand. I take a second before accepting his handshake.
“It’s been lovely, Adrian, but … I’m gonna go find my friends and see if maybe they’ll allow me to get out of this hellhole they call fun.”
Don’t do it. Don’t invite him back to your place. Don’t you dare even think about doing it. Don’t let those foolish words slip out of your stupid—
“Maybe we can hang out back at my place,” I tell him.
He looks surprised. “Your place?”
“Yeah. North side of the island, up near the fair, just a street away from the pier. You and I can kick back and just be two bored boys.” I give him a look. “Unless you’re so damned eager to get back to your cat-hair-infested couch at your friend’s house.”
He squints cutely at me, mulling it over.
He could still turn me down. That’s fine. This whole night we’ve had so far can just be some weird encounter I might think back on a few weekends from now.
But I don’t want it to be. I want it to go longer.
Even if we’re not each other’s type.
“I feel like we’re not done,” I go on, as he continues to torture me with his prolonged silence. “I’m not ready to say goodnight to you quite yet.”
“Me neither.” He frowns. “I think.”
“So how about it?” I swat his arm and shrug. “Want to hang out a bit longer?”
He considers me. Then he pulls out his phone. “Let me text my friend I’m staying with first. You know, just so he doesn’t worry.”
Chapter 7 - Quintin
So this night sure as hell just took a turn.
Adrian drives down Cassanova Street, which cuts right up Dreamwood from the south end, where the Quicksilver Strand and Breezeway Point beach are, up to the northern pier, where he apparently occupies a modest condo near the Hopewell Fair. The whole time, I’m drumming fingers on my thighs and sneaking glances at him, wondering if I can trust his intentions.
I’m really great at pretending to be confident. I can talk up a storm and throw any guy off his game no matter how cocky, beautiful, or self-assured he is.
But the truth is, I’m shitting bricks most of the time.
How am I still possibly holding this guy’s attention? I took one look at him and was certain he’s just another big, muscled, shallow dog looking for a fire hydrant to hump tonight. Especially when he had the audacity to cut in front of me to use the bathroom like I wasn’t even there.
Then I saw him trying to squirm away from that other hot guy in a jockstrap, and that confused me to no end. He is totally the player type, right? Isn’t he looking for ass?
After coming to his rescue and engaging in one long, meandering conversation with him to the noise of the distant waves and the feel of the salty air on my skin, making me feel like a completely different human being, I’m not so sure I know anything anymore.
Spending time with Adrian tonight is as exhilarating as it is confusing.