Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“It was the thought that counted.” I tapped my beer glass to Blake’s and gave Ash a sideways bro hug. “Luckily, you have a real scientist to run that stuff by now.”
Asher and Blake shared one of those shmoopy couple glances that hinted at a secret language. This was my cue to step aside and leave them to it, but I was curious. Not about sex. I was doing just fine in that department. I couldn’t help wondering how they made it look so easy. I’d never been around hetero couples who were as in tune as them. Seriously. There were times I wasn’t sure my parents even liked each other and honestly, I understood. But Ash and Blake were—
“Yo, Ez,” Cole squeezed my arm, angling his chin toward his girlfriend. “Hot tip…go talk to Beth, so she can introduce you to her friend, Nadine. She’s pretty and smart, and I just found out that she lives a block away from our new place.”
I pasted a smile on my face. “Cool. Gimme a few minutes. I gotta make a call.”
I set my beer on the bar and sidled through the crowd to the exit, sucking in a breath of fresh air before scrolling for Holden’s number.
“Hi. How did it go?” he answered.
“Okay…I hope. I’m glad it’s over.” I leaned on the stucco façade and stared, unseeing, at a street sign. “Except now I’m at a bar with a bunch of buddies. I should be halfway to drunk, but I can’t stop thinking about the text you sent me earlier.”
“Which one?”
“The one about the heist. Did you think I was robbing a bank?”
Holden snickered. “No, I copied a few salutations from a website offering new ways to say good luck—like ‘Come back a legend,’ ‘To infinity and beyond,’ and ‘Bring home the trophy.’ Those didn’t seem to apply, though.”
“And the heist did?”
“Definitely.”
We chuckled, letting an easy quiet settle between us on the phone line. I hated to be the one to break it. “Come join me?”
“And how would you explain me?”
“You’re our roommate,” I replied flippantly. “Of course you should be here.”
I think that was the wrong thing to say, ’cause the ensuing silence had a bit more weight to it this time.
“That’s probably not a good idea,” he said softly.
I sighed heavily. “Fine, but just so you know…I’d rather be with you.”
“Well, just so you know…I feel the same way. Good night, Ezra. Have fun storming the castle.”
“Later, Shakespeare.”
I slipped my cell in my pocket, aware that my grin split my face in two.
Sure, Holden was offbeat and a little goofy, but I liked that about him. And I liked that he didn’t feel the need to explain himself anymore. He knew I liked him just the way he was.
9
HOLDEN
“This is for you.” I set a package on Ezra’s desk and pushed it toward him.
“What is it?”
“What does it look like?”
He narrowed his eyes and swiveled his chair to face me. “Suspiciously like a book.”
“There’s only one way to find out.” I chuckled, setting a hand on his shoulder before inviting myself into his room.
I did my best not to ogle him and most likely didn’t succeed. In true Ezra fashion, he was practically naked in black boxer briefs and nothing else. Afternoon sunlight streaked across his unmade bed and glinted against his inked torso and his sleep-tousled hair. His usual morning stubble was close to becoming a real beard and with his casual open-legged stance, he resembled a pirate—dangerous, daring, and thoroughly disreputable.
Geez, I’d been in the room with him for less than a minute, and I already wanted him. I tore my gaze away, absently surveying his collection of books and the lacrosse equipment propped in the corner.
I’d spent a lot of time here recently and noted that Ezra was a mass of contradictions. His room was usually a mess, but his books and sports paraphernalia were always neatly stacked. Photos of people I assumed were friends and family were pinned in straight lines on the corkboard over his desk while a mysterious collection of receipts were shoved willy-nilly in a mason jar next to a collection of pens I’d never seen him use.
To which I surmised that he took care of the things that meant the most to him. Family, friends, sports, books…
And surprisingly enough, Ezra had a lot of books. All kinds of books…murder and suspense novels, classics, biographies, and a ton of law journals. But I was rather confident he didn’t have this one.
He unwrapped the gift and quirked his brows in amusement as he read the title. “Shakespeare’s Sonnets. Love poems…for me?”
“Ha, not exactly.” I plucked the book from his fingers, pushed his duvet aside, and sat on the edge of his mattress. “This collection is unique because the topics aren’t all about love. He explored real-life themes like lust, acrimony, and homoeroticism.”