Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
The room had burst into laughter and apparently got hung up on this man’s hang-up because they were still talking about it when I sat back down. I noticed Tristan shoot a glance in my direction. I gave him a reassuring nod and a smile, which seemed to ease some of the tension coiled up in his stiff shoulders.
The group was arranged in a rough semicircle in Tristan’s spacious living room. There were pillows on the floor, where some sat cross-legged while others took up space on the couch. A pile of snacks sat in the center of the group, with the donuts I had brought earlier nearly wiped out. Tristan leaned forward and grabbed a half-empty bottle of champagne, filling up his glass.
“I don’t know,” he said, attention turning toward him. “I think big dicks are actually really nice. Like there’s a beauty to them.”
I straightened my back and tried to ignore the flush of heat that spread through my core, as if someone flipped a switch inside me.
What the hell conversation did I just come back into?
And why does Tristan talking about big dicks turn me on?
Noah scoffed at that while Eric nodded his head. Those two were apparently the core of Tristan’s friend group, having been best friends since back when they were kids. Tia, Jess, and Yvette were also close to Tristan, from what I gathered, but the others were all either plus-ones or relatively new members of the friend group. Evan Wilson was the newest addition. He was Yvette’s boyfriend and seemed to be a man of very few words, having only spoken a couple of times throughout the night. Was he possibly being the only straight guy in the group making him uncomfortable?
“I’ve gotta agree,” Eric said. “Bigger is usually better. Trust me.” He gave a wink at his fiancé, Colton, and kissed him on the cheek.
“Of course you size queens are agreeing,” Tia said with an arched brow. “But I don’t think our character is thinking about peen size, okay? I think he’s ashamed of the fact that he wants to kill. I think the main guy is the actual killer.”
Heads swiveled in Tia’s direction. She sat at the edge of the couch, an arm thrown casually on the back of the couch, the open book full of highlighted notes sitting on her lap. “Really?” Jess asked, moving her feet from under Tia’s legs and sitting up straight.
“Is that an official guess?” Tristan asked. He raised his glass. “Remember the rules for tonight.”
“Right,” Tia said as she leaned forward to grab her drink. “I, Ms. Tia Sherlock Holmes-to-Go, want to put in a guess.”
The group chuckled as Noah announced Tia’s name again, welcoming her to the stage.
It was the game Tristan had come up with. If anyone wanted to make a guess as to the killer and their motive, then they’d have to first come up with a detective-themed drag name and lip-sync to a song, or they could pass on the lip-sync and take a chug of their drink instead. Apparently, he was a fan of drag queens and promised he’d take me to a show at some point, nearly being knocked over after I told him I had never been to a drag show before.
I tried not to pay attention to how excited that made me. I was beginning to find that any time spent around the intriguing and handsome writer was time extremely well spent.
Tia chugged her champagne and wiped her lips with the back of her hand, smiling. The book they were reading was called Twisting Razors. “Okay, but seriously, look at the way the chapters from the killer’s perspective are written—they seem very similar to Kenneth’s chapters. And there’s the whole mystery about all those cats dying around Kenneth as a kid. I think that’s because he was killing them.”
“That actually… could be true?” Jake said, looking down at his book. He wore gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt, which was the exact opposite of what his husband wore: black short shorts and a gray long-sleeved shirt. “I wrote down that possibility, too.”
“But that’s pretty ballsy on the author’s part,” Steven said. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, legs crossed underneath him. Tristan had told me he was one of the newest members of the Reading Under the Rainbow club, having bumped into Eric in their apartment’s hallway when Eric passed on the invite.
“To have us follow the murderer?” Tristan asked.
“Exactly,” Steven said. He glanced down at his phone and tapped at the screen before leaning over and touching Tristan’s ankle. “Sidebar, but what’s the Wi-Fi password?”
“Hold on, let me show you,” Tristan said as he got up from the couch and went over to the router, which was inside the sleek white entertainment center. “I always have a suspicion that if I read these sequences of letters and numbers out loud, then I’ll accidentally open up a gate to Hell.”