Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
What the fuck was Elliot thinking anyway, doing that out in the open?
Although he totally couldn’t have guessed that I’d come home early.
A few minutes later, there was a knock on my door, but I was too mortified to answer, to see my best friend right then.
“Morgan?”
Even without seeing him, I could hear his uncertainty. Damn it.
“Sleeping,” I muttered, loud enough for him to hear, even though it was a lie and he likely knew it. “Catch you in the morning.”
But I didn’t sleep, just stared at the ceiling, wondering why it felt like the center of my world had suddenly shifted.
5
Elliot
The following morning I lay in bed as long as I could, not wanting to face the day. Christ, what in the hell happened last night? Morgan watched me…fucking watched me get off with a hookup.
And the bald truth was, I got off because he fucking watched me. Not that I wouldn’t have otherwise, but having him there, with those hooded eyes and the bulge in his pants, had no doubt egged me on.
And the guy who’d been on his knees for me knew it too. Just smirked when he was done, winked as I cleaned us up with my shirt, and hightailed it out the door.
I tried to talk to Morgan about it right away, but when I knocked on his door, he pretended to be asleep. Could I really blame him?
And how was I supposed to face him now?
I rolled out of bed and jumped in the shower, thankful he was still asleep so I could get my wits about me.
Unless he was avoiding me.
Damn it. Why did I suggest that stuff? Even if I was feeling it in the moment, I could’ve just kept my mouth shut.
I was at the kitchen counter, slathering my toast with butter, when I finally heard him rouse. I glanced over my shoulder toward the door, briefly wondering if I could somehow make an exit without him noticing.
His cheeks were already pink as he shuffled into the kitchen and spotted me.
“Got coffee on,” I mumbled, my pulse speeding up.
“Thanks.” He avoided looking at me as he padded to the cupboard to retrieve a mug. We’d spent way too much money visiting the campus coffee shop when we first moved in last summer, and it was Morgan’s idea to start making our own at home.
Awkward silence descended between us as I watched him pour himself a cup, then top it off with copious amounts of creamer. He liked the vanilla flavor, so we made sure to keep it well-stocked.
I bit into my toast, then slid the other slice toward him as a peace offering. He took a big swig of his coffee before lifting the bread and nibbling a corner of it. We had a perfectly fine kitchen table, but more times than not, we shoveled food in our faces just like this, standing at the counter. For him, it seemed a test of will, proving he could manage eating while keeping his balance and without needing a chair. He never said it out loud, but I could see the determination in his eyes.
“Damn it, Morgan,” I said, sounding a bit panicked, but I couldn’t go on with my day unless we got this resolved. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s okay,” he replied, finally looking at me. “I know you did that because I haven’t had much luck hooking up with anybody lately, so you thought maybe—”
“It’s not like I’ve had the best luck either.”
He threw me a scathing look. “Of course you have. You always do. You’re fucking gorgeous.”
My stomach got this fluttery feeling even after hearing the same sentiment from him a million times. But it always affected me in this weird way because, coming from him, it felt important. Probably because I admired him like crazy.
“And what are you, some sort of troll?”
To me, Morgan was beautiful, especially in the morning, with sleepy eyes and his hair all over the place, when he padded around the apartment, trying to make sure he had everything in order to make his mark on the world.
“Do we really need to hash this out?” He groaned. “You know perfectly well how I struggle. I’m not exactly—”
“You are exactly,” I insisted. “And I do know. But I’m not sure that’s the real reason I invited you to join us last night.”
Morgan’s eyebrows lifted to his hairline. “It’s not?”
“I dunno,” I replied in a rush before I blew it. “All morning I’ve been trying to make sense of my reaction. Maybe it was bound to happen, being best friends and all.”
“Yeah,” he conceded, his shoulders relaxing. “Maybe we were bound to be in some sort of weird situation with our dicks out. Well, your dick was out. Mine was…” He trailed off, a flush forming on his cheeks.