Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
There really was no reason for me to continue thinking about him. S—Anon—wasn’t who I should be thinking about. No, that was Danny.
I’d tossed Anon’s advice over and over in my brain. I wasn’t the type of guy who liked to play games. It was…well, sort of gross, especially when it was with your best friend. But I also couldn’t breathe and felt like I was having a heart attack any time I thought about telling Danny how I felt, so I was fucked—not in the receiving-of-the-D way either.
I spent the day working and trying not to think about Danny or S.
Tonight was the “It’s Almost Summer Bash” at our apartment complex, which really meant, let’s make up a random reason to have a party. Whatever. It worked. Unfortunately, it was raining, because the weather didn’t seem to care we were going to have an outdoor party, so it had been moved into the common room, downstairs. Usually Danny went with me and Brooklyn, but they both happened to work, which meant I was going solo. I wasn’t real big on solo, but eh, what could you do?
I went downstairs. The room was already fairly busy. Seemed like most everyone had gotten there before me. There were a few couches and chairs along the walls, round tables throughout the middle of the room, both normal and high-top style. Lizzo played through the speakers, and there was a cash bar, which reminded me why I loved my apartment complex so much. Actually, I’d love it more if the drinks were free.
I made my way to the bar. There were about eight people in front of me, and within five seconds of being there, someone was behind me.
“Hey, neighbor!” Shaw said. Ugh. Because of course it had to be him. “Where’s your crew?”
I rolled my eyes. “What are you talking about? I don’t have a crew.” Though the idea of Danny and Brooklyn being my crew was cool.
“Simmer down. I didn’t mean anything by it. I usually see you with Danny and Brooklyn, is all.”
I frowned. I didn’t know he knew their names. “You know Danny and Brooklyn?”
“Yeah. I see Brooklyn in the elevator sometimes. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we live in the same building. I saw Danny at a gay bar one night, and I recognized him from going back and forth to your place, so I introduced myself.”
Wait. Shaw saw Danny at the bar and they spoke? A sharp pain slammed into my chest. Shaw had men and women going in and out of his apartment like…like he was some famous guy who got lots of ass. What if Danny and Shaw had hooked up?
Oh God… What the fuck. What if Shaw was the guy? Danny’s guy. I knew he wasn’t looking for anything serious, and…fuck, I couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t I breathe?
“Are you okay?” Shaw’s brows pulled together as I forced myself to calm down. Danny knew Shaw was my neighbor. He knew Shaw drove me crazy. He wouldn’t hook up with him, and he definitely would have told me if he had, or if Shaw was the guy.
I think… No. I knew he would.
“Nothing. I’m fine.” I shook my head. We got up to the counter, and I ordered a vodka Sprite.
“Make that two,” Shaw added. “I’ll buy you a drink.”
What was he trying to do here? This strange wave of competitiveness pulled me under. “You don’t need to buy me a drink. It’s cool. I’ll buy you one.”
Shaw winked. “Okay.”
Oh, fuck him. He was so cocky! He knew exactly what he was doing. Not that I thought he had played that whole thing to get me to buy him a drink, but he’d agreed easily because then it felt like he got to me more than I got to him, the bastard.
The bartender handed us drinks, and I paid. There was an empty high-top table not far away, so I headed toward it, Shaw at my heels.
When I stopped and set my glass down, he did the same, so I said, “Are we hanging out now?”
He shrugged. “Sure, if you want.”
How in the hell did he do that? He always turned shit around on me. I hated this guy. Hate, hate, hate. Unfortunately, he was also sexy as hell, not that I’d ever tell him that. His skin was this perfect sun-kissed color—like he tanned, but not too much, or he’d just been lucky to look like he tanned but never had to. I’d always had a thing for guys who were taller than me, like he was—with dark, messy hair, the prettiest green eyes, thick lashes, and face structure that looked like it had been carved. He had a killer jawline, that always seemed to have the right amount of scruff along it. And his cheekbones, God his cheekbones were a work of art.