Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“I KNEW IT! Wow! Totally knew it!”
“But please don’t make a big deal out of it,” I quickly tack on. “He really wasn’t at his best last night, as you saw. He wasn’t even at his average. He was at a … a low. A very low … low.”
It’s like she doesn’t even hear me. “I mean, I almost thought it was him, but then I was like, ‘Nooo. Can’t be.’ And then when we were helping him across the parking lot …”
“Dana,” I warn.
“But his beard is all grown out and messy. He was all clean-cut on TV. I need to tell my Aunt Ashley. She would lose her mind.”
“Dana! Please don’t tell anyone.”
“No, no, I won’t say that he was trashed and tried to beat up King Kong in a bar. I just want to say that I’ve met him.”
“But you didn’t. Not really.”
“I helped walk his drunk ass across a parking lot soiled in his own beer, blood, and vomit. I’m pretty sure I can claim I’ve met him. I’m practically his best friend now.”
I roll my eyes and slap a hand to my forehead. “Dana …”
“Okay, okay. I won’t say anything.” She squeaks. “But maybe I can just say I saw him at a bar.”
I swear … “You know damned well if you say one word about meeting him, the whole gory story is going to come out with it. And for the record, he was not soiled in his own vomit. See? You’re already exaggerating the story.”
“Alright. Fine. Jeez, you’re no fun.” She chuckles. “No, but really, I did have fun. We need to do it again. Maybe you can invite Stefan along next time.”
“Or maybe not.”
“Ryan! Don’t hold out on me!”
“I’ll see you Monday, Dana. I gotta go.”
“Ryan. I swear, if you’re holding out on me with some juicy tidbit about the Stefan Baker …”
“Bye, Dana!”
I hang up, then carefully, delicately, calmly set the phone on the counter to prove to myself how so very level-headed and not-freaked-out I am right now.
I guess I should be thankful she didn’t ask if I’m gay. Though, I feel a bit like, judging from how brazen she is, the question is just lurking around the corner. Maybe after another date or two when I don’t invite her back to my place, she’ll catch on.
Then she’ll start setting me up with any gay guy she knows.
Because that’s how it works, apparently. “I know a gay guy. You’re gay. You two should go on a date!”
Please don’t let Dana become my gay matchmaking nightmare.
The sound from the TV becomes a shapeless hum of music and voices—some daytime reality show—as I tune out the world. I stare blankly at my laptop and find my mind hopelessly drawn back to thoughts of Stefan.
Surprise.
I shut my eyes and imagine him last night all over again—but just from the part where he was lying on my bed.
His wide, muscular back in that heather gray shirt. The hiss of his breath as it went in and out of him, slowly, evenly, gently.
He was so vulnerable. And I took care of him.
His ass. His socked feet. The backsides of his thighs in those dirty jeans of his.
The side of his face with his eyes closed, lips slightly parted.
Stefan Baker.
There was this party his parents threw for the Little League team. I’ll never forget it. We played so many video games and the night felt like it stretched on forever. There were so many bowls of chips and candy, anything I wanted was within arm’s reach.
Including Stefan, sitting on the couch next to me.
“Bro, you’re gonna win!” he shouted, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me as I steered my vehicle over the finish line in the video game. “WON!”
The other two guys on my team hollered out in victory while the others groaned, one of them throwing a potato chip at me and sneering—a poor sport, he was.
When it was about eleven o’clock, all the other kids had been picked up by their parents, and I was the last one left. Stefan and I barely noticed, having moved our gaming session up to his room where we lay on his bed, side by side, and played every player-versus-player game he had. He had gray sheets that had a lot of light blue circles and rings and black dots all over them. I kept noticing how our elbows would touch as we played, and for some reason, I really liked it. Whenever I beat him, I loved laughing and leaning into Stefan to give him a playful shove with my shoulder. He would get this cocky look on his face, smirk at me, and say, “Bro, I’m gonna get your ass next game. I’m gonna get it.”
He kept playing against me in all the games because I was able to keep up. He might have been superior in every way on the baseball field, but in video games, I was his match. I actually gave him a challenge.