Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Just as I take the first step, he bolts from the spot, causing me to stop. I look around, searching for where he went.
Trey gives my shoulder an encouraging pat. “Go after him.”
I glance at Trey, not realizing he was paying attention, too. Of course he was. He always is. “Where would he go?”
“There’s a back area, like a lounge, right by the bathrooms. Go on, Bridge, we’ll be here. But don’t sit on the black leather seats—they’re always sticky.” I give him a nod of thanks and head off, but not before he shouts, “And if you’re gonna take advantage of that totally-separate room at the motel, it’s fine with—!”
I don’t catch the rest, but I got the gist: I’ve got Mommy Trey and Daddy Cody’s blessing to stay over with my new friend in his totally unsupervised motel room.
If I can manage to find him in this dark, crowded place.
The lounge is small and square-shaped with frustratingly dim lighting and several areas to sit. There are tall decorations spread through the room—potted plants, partitions, and all sorts of other items separating the room into smaller gathering areas. For no reason at all, I wonder if this was the kitchen of that hypothetical Chinese restaurant I’m pretending used to be here. I move slowly through the room, eyes gliding from group to group. Some people are just casually chatting with their drinks. One long lavender couch is occupied by two cuddled-up men deep in conversation. I spot a bald guy on his phone who looks to be nearly in tears, perhaps just having gotten his heart broken, who knows.
I stop after circling the room three damned times. Where did he go? Was I wrong and he actually left the club? My foot starts to tap in place as I second-guess myself, frustrated. Every second I stand here, he could be getting further away.
I turn around to head back to the main room.
Only to stop short when Anthony’s scowling face appears in front of mine. “What’re you doin’ here?” he barks at me.
I sigh with relief. “Thought you’d left.”
My reaction seems to surprise him. “You wanted to see me? What’re you doing? Stalking me now?”
“What? I’m not stalking anything. I didn’t know you’d be—” I brush that aside. There’s no point anyway. “Your friend Juniper said you wanted to see me.”
“Well, she lied.”
I snort. “Did she now?”
“Yep.”
“And what’re you doing here?” I ask right back. “Looking for some other unsuspecting guy to try stuff out on? You’ve got quite a few choices …”
“Not lookin’ for anything.”
I come in closer. “Sure about that?”
He doesn’t step back. “Yeah,” he says right in my face.
I don’t know what it is that’s got him all riled up and angry at first sight, but something about that scowl on his face is seriously turning me on. “I don’t believe you.”
His upper lip twitches with agitation. “W-Well, you … you can just … just believe my ass as I walk away, then.” And with that, he turns and heads off—and my eyes drop right to his ass on cue.
Just bump his butt and get it outta your system.
Shut up, Pete.
He stops at the door to the men’s restroom and peers over his shoulder, as if to check if I’m still there. Obviously I am. “Just go home,” he says to me. “I don’t need no babysitter. I’m a grown-ass man with … with a whole Friday night ahead of me that doesn’t include lookin’ at your stupid face.”
He pushes the restroom door open and disappears inside.
I pray this isn’t an invitation to follow him into a grimy public restroom so he can try more stuff out on me. But something must possess my feet, because I go straight in after him.
I find him at the sink, faucet at full blast, staring at me hard.
“Thought you said my face was pretty.” My words echo in the cramped restroom, muffled only by the water exploding from the sink. “Now you think it’s stupid?”
He says nothing back. He just stares, still scowling in that sexy way he was before. Goddamn him and those dopey, sensitive eyes …
“I just want to be clear,” I tell him calmly, swallowing my own desire. “Crystal clear, so there’s no misunderstanding. I’m not sure what’s going on in your head … or your heart or whatever, but … I don’t judge it either way. I’m sorry for … flipping out at the park bench the other night. I don’t even care if you used me for a kiss to confirm things you may or may not be feeling about me … or about guys in general. If you want me to leave—if you want me to really leave—just say so, and I’ll go. I’ll leave this restroom. I’ll … I’ll leave this club and go on back to Spruce with the guys. And I won’t bother you anymore. Just say the word.”