Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Anyway, I’ve been with her since I was sixteen,” I say, skipping any details that might make Mark reflect on his own shitty experience. “My dad was the only one around when I was growing up, and he was never that great. Was more interested in coke and meth than his kid. He ended up leaving me at her house one day when she was supposed to be babysitting me. And he never came back. She took me in as her own without even thinking twice about it. So now that she has issues, I take care of her.
“Sometimes guys like Keith think that makes me some kind of saint. Like I’m a good guy because I have someone I care about…or maybe, I don’t know, that I might be able to care about them that way, too. But if anything, Nanna doesn’t mean that I have time for guys. It means that I have too many things on my plate as it is.”
“And so nothing else you do leads them to believe there’s more there?” Mark asks. “It’s because you have this nanna that you care about?”
The expression on his face assures me he knows there’s more to it than that, and so do I. I might as well be honest with him. Why the fuck wait for this to blow up in my face like it has in the past?
“I don’t know if you can tell, but I don’t have a lot of friends, so whoever I’m hooking up with ends up being the guy who I talk to about the shit that’s going on in my life. I don’t think that means I’m leading anyone on. Everybody needs someone to talk to.”
“I agree.” His judgment appears to have dissolved, but it’s replaced with pity.
“Don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t have friends because I choose not to have friends. Because I like my space, and I like not having to rely on other people. I can’t have anything serious. I don’t have time for that. I don’t live the kind of life that allows for that.”
“I don’t need anything else right now either,” he says.
“You’re just jaded right now. You need time to get over Greg. What he did to you.”
“It wasn’t just him. Morgan was my best friend. Like we knew each other since we were in the third grade. We played fucking Pokémon together. We messed around a little when we were in high school, but it wasn’t anything. We stayed friends, and we had both always talked about going to Emory together. After I met Greg, he was all I talked to Morgan about. How much I liked him. How much I wanted to date him. Things that I’m sure Morgan has told Greg by now, which is embarrassing as fuck.”
“Those d-bags aren’t worth your time.”
“So people keep telling me.”
“But seriously…they’re first-rate assholes.”
“Isn’t that all I am to you?”
“You tell me.”
We gaze into each other’s eyes, and I can tell he senses my judgment.
“You had a leg up that most people don’t get, you have to admit,” I say.
“Of course I admit it, but at least I took advantage of it. There are a lot of kids who go here who didn’t bust their asses to get a fucking scholarship.”
“True.”
“But I’m fine with you thinking whatever you want about me,” he says. “I’ve spent a long time having to deal with people judging me. Needing me to be some ideal image for them. What you think of me doesn’t scare me.”
“Then what does?”
“Lies.”
“Must be how you spend most of your life as the governor’s kid.”
“Most of it. Always pretending to be the right kind of person for Mommy, you know?”
“So who are you really?”
Mark smirks wryly. “Still figuring that out.”
“Aren’t we all?”
He’s different than the other guys. Not pretentious. Or pompous. He doesn’t think he’s better than anyone else. He’s not the kind of kid I’m used to fucking around with. The sort of conceited asshole I enjoy tearing down to size. He’s humble, and if anything, he thinks too poorly of himself.
“We keep doing this,” I say, “then you know what to expect.”
“Doing what?”
“Fucking. Is that what you want?”
“I think it’d be fun,” he says, though I can tell he’s underselling it.
“No unreasonable expectations?” I ask, though I’ve asked that before to guys who gave me the answer I wanted, even if they didn’t mean it. “And I won’t ask you to give up fucking other guys if you won’t ask me to do that.”
“I won’t,” he replies.
I’m reminded of what he likes about this.
It’s safe. He’s not worried about getting emotionally involved. We’re just hooking up. It’s the perfect way to avoid ending up in a situation like he was with Greg. Although I know how this goes. He says this now, but he could end up just like the others. He could develop feelings because that’s what he expects out of fucking. Thinks there can be something more here because he likes the idea of the bad boy and the uber-good boy fucking—because he thinks that it could be some sort of magical chemistry between us.