Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Splash—all over his robe and chest.
I cling to his arms. He clings to me, having regained his balance from his near fall.
We’re suddenly very close to one another, hands still gripping each other’s arms, my emptied glass now tucked somewhere between my hand and his rock solid chest and his freshly stained robe.
I meet his stunned, bright blue eyes.
He stares into mine.
“Uh, sorry,” I finally manage to say.
“It’s …” He steps back and looks down at his chest, surveying the damage. We’re still holding each other by the arms. “It’s okay. This is just some robe I got from, uh, from a friend who works at the, uh …”
“Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“Nah, you kidding?” He laughs it off suddenly. “I can get ten more of these tomorrow. They’re giving them away like pillow mints at the Elysian.” He inspects the stain a little closer, then shrugs. “Yeah, it’s nothing.”
And even still, we’re clinging to each other’s arms.
Our faces are too close.
That robe probably costs a hundred and fifty bucks and that stain isn’t coming out.
“It’s … a comforting vibe,” I murmur.
Adrian lifts his eyebrows. “Huh?”
“The vibe you exude. It’s … comforting. Friendly. As if everyone you meet is a person you’ve known your whole life. It’s a vibe that … surprises me.”
He doesn’t seem to know what to do with that. He just stares at me, lips parted, eyes blazing and beautiful, and doesn’t let go of my arms.
Then he asks: “You hungry?”
I look at him. “Hungry …?”
He lets go of my arms abruptly and beelines straight to the fridge. “I just realized I brought home some lobster fettuccini from my shift today. It’s a signature dish of Chef Louisa’s. It doesn’t sound amazing, but everyone fucking loses their minds over it.” He pulls out a container, sets it on the counter, then eyes me. “Do you want to try some?”
I’m not exactly sure what’s happening here, other than it seemed like Adrian couldn’t bear looking into my eyes a second longer. But considering I didn’t have anything at the party and am running on the fumes of what I drank at Vann and Toby’s, I could definitely go for something solid in my stomach.
A moment later, we’re sitting on his couch with dishes of gourmet lobster fettuccini in our laps, as if we’re eating dollar-menu fast food from the place on the corner, and a movie about horny men is playing on his TV. He’s traded his stained robe for a t-shirt and a pair of workout shorts.
The couch is big enough for both of us.
In fact, it’s big enough for both of us and two more friends on either end.
Yet for some reason, we’re sitting right in the middle, side by side, our legs touching and our elbows knocking into one another’s now and then as we eat. “I don’t like being off-center,” I insist when he teases me about it. “If I don’t sit in the middle with the TV right in front of me, I go crazy.”
“I’m the same way,” he says right back, then neither of us move, clinging to our half-shared spot in the center of the couch.
Not that we’re watching much of this movie, since Adrian apparently can’t stop talking. I’m sitting here trying to suppress my moans as I eat because, to my surprise, this dish really is that damned amazing, even warmed up in the microwave. And Adrian keeps going on and on about his brothers, how he always gets into fights with his twin Kent, how he resents his older brother Brett for turning his back on the family after he married some “stiff princess” of a woman and left the island, and then how he’s afraid of what his little brother Skipper will grow up to be, since the kid is so eerily quiet all the time.
I like getting to know Adrian, even if I’m pretty sure I won’t retain half of what he’s telling me.
“Sorry,” he says suddenly, cutting himself off in the middle of telling me about his mom. “I’m rambling on and on about me. You haven’t said much.”
“I’m just listening. Nothing to say. Also, this fettuccini is no joke. It’s de-fuckin’-licious.”
“Right?” He takes a sip of his wine—almost elbowing me in the process due to our close proximity—then goes for another forkful. “Y’know, it’s been a really long time since I did this.”
“Did what?”
“Shared food from Thalassa with a guy I literally just met while watching TV and not have sex with him.”
That was sure a mouthful. A bigger mouthful than the one he just forked past his plush lips. “You mean this exact scenario has happened before …?”
He chuckles. “No, no. I just mean … usually if I take a guy back to my place, we’re gonna … well …” He clears his throat. “Never mind. That’s not tonight. We’re just two buddies hanging out.”