Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Mike went still, and for the blink of an eye it occurred to him that he did kinda care whether strangers saw him touching a girly boy. Which in turn spurred anger, because why would he be self-conscious about anything he did? He was a stud, who’d fuck anyone he wanted, not one of those pathetic cockroaches who didn’t dare to be open with such things. He was Mike Heller, the unofficial Mr. Nevada—too good for bullshit like beauty contests—and if he wanted to fake-date a boy, he absolutely would, and anyone who had a problem with it could go fuck themselves!
So he held his head high and paraded down the corridor while the faceless figures of the other shoppers became the background to his day out. He used to love this place while in high school. Now? Not so much. They always played music he disliked, and the shops screamed at him with large banners advertising sales and new collections. But he wasn’t here for his own amusement. He was here to prove Kane wrong.
“No. I don’t care what anyone thinks.”
“Your abs are awfully chiseled for someone who doesn’t care. And your ink—” Arden stalled, looking for words. “Your tattoo artist did a very good job.”
Mike stretched, his chest inflated with air. “Yeah. She’s very, very good. Told me I was like a tropical bird among sparrows. Poetic, eh?”
Arden snorted. “Whaat? That’s so cheesy. She just wanted a tip. And the lion?”
Mike shrugged. “Lions have multiple females and are the graceful kings of the savanna. Basically, I’m a biker lion. And with the way you dress, you don’t seem to dislike attention either?”
“I’m used to it, I’m a graceful, unique butterfly. I want to live as my true self, not hide it so everyone else is comfortable.”
A surprisingly stern answer from a boy who smelled like a flower and seemed so frail a strong gust of wind could topple him.
Mike liked it.
“What does it mean? What is your true self?” he asked, too entranced by the movement of Arden’s lips to notice the stores they were passing. So maybe there was no sex at the end of the road they were taking, but this might still be one of the most interesting dates he’d been on.
“I’m a man, and I like that. I like all my bits, but since I also like lace and makeup, then I’m gonna enjoy it. I don’t even care if it’s attractive to others or not,” Arden said, leading the way, because Mike had no idea where they could buy the bubble drink thing.
The way Arden lifted his chin proudly like a kid who’d gotten an A for their assignment made Mike snort. Too cute. And yet his brain munched on the words that stood out to him.
Lace. Bits.
Arden was gay, but nothing like Zolt or Leo. He wasn’t hairy or butch or intent on proving his masculinity to anyone, and Mike couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like naked. Was Arden shaved all over? He would find out about his legs at least once the boy wore shorts.
Mike was a mature guy, but still struggled keeping a wide grin at bay. He needed a different approach with this pretty flower. “How did you know you like that stuff? It’s not typical for a guy.”
Arden stole a longer glance at him from under impossibly dark eyelashes as he stopped at the end of the line by a small coffee stand that also boasted that they sold bubble tea in bold letters. Mike wouldn’t admit it to his brothers, but his heart skipped a beat in response. Then again, this ritual of push and pull was familiar and always got him invested.
Everything inside him longed for an answer to his question, but Arden took his sweet time reading the menu and then ordering two drinks. He didn’t even ask Mike what flavor he wanted, and that display of confidence was both funny and endearing.
They sat at a pink table. An outlaw biker with a big milky drink in hand and a guy who wore a bra under his T-shirt. Someone could’ve said they were mismatched but Mike didn’t give two shits about someones.
“Got you the classic one, so you see what the big deal is,” Arden said and crossed his long, slender legs, instantly drawing Mike’s attention lower. But Mike was here on a mission, and he needed to focus.
“Are you dodging my question on purpose?”
Arden took a long slurp of his blue drink. “You know my sister actually. And yes, I’m going somewhere with this. Kaley?”
Mike stared. He was pretty sure he knew several Kaleys, but his mind didn’t produce any meaningful information. “Yeah…” He closed his mouth on the straw and sucked. The beverage tasted like milky green tea. Sweet and tasty but nothing out of the ordinary until drinking became more laborious, and a squishy ball shot into his mouth through the wide straw. Confused, he bit on it only to discover it tasted of nothing, but the texture added novelty. It wasn’t something Mike could see himself having often, but wasn’t terrible either.