Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Oh, so now that he can’t run anymore, he’s being confrontational.
I glare at him and call him over with a gesture, my eyes pinned to the wild bird nest on his head.
He lets out a theatrical sigh and slides off the roof, glaring at me with those black eyes, shoulders stiff. He’s so… strange, but now that I’ve found out he’s gay, I assess him anew. If he sorted out his hair, spent more time in the sunlight, and stopped biting his nails, maybe he could find a guy too. After all, he’s tall, toned, and has the angular features of a rogue. Then again, he does live in a cave, which would be a stretch even for me.
“You could have watched the house from where you wouldn’t risk overhearing every single moan and grunt,” I tell him, not even trying to avoid being accusatory, because what the actual fuck? I did suspect someone might loiter around the cabin, trying to satisfy their curiosity, but I didn’t expect it to be one of my brothers.
Since his skin is like milk, the blushing is all too easy to spot despite him positioning himself in the shade of the house like some damn vampire. I can’t help but wonder… Is he experienced? Top? Bottom? Switch? Does he have a guy? He does sometimes go away for extended periods of time, so who knows?
“It’s a good vantage point, and unexpected in case someone did come.”
“Someone did come,” I deadpan, glaring at him. “Two someones.”
He shifts his weight and rests his entwined hands on the back of his head, as if I didn’t call him out for eavesdropping. “So… How did you get him?”
Is he asking me for dating tips?
“I didn’t get him. I told him he was hot, he said he could go with that, and that’s how it started.”
It’s not the whole story, but I don’t owe anyone the truth about my dying regrets.
“Just like that?” He cocks his head, watching me as if his eyes were two scalpels about to open my skull and rummage inside.
I’m not sure if he’s serious, but Creep’s a weird guy, and I don’t want him to start stating his intentions to every guy whose face he likes, so I take pity on him and exhale. “I didn’t think he would be up for it, to be fair. But there’s apps, and gay clubs, where there’s men who like the same stuff, right?” I ask, as if I’ve fucked my way through half the state.
The bastard rolls his eyes at me and walks off like I don’t even deserve a nod. Annoyance simmers under my skin, and I dash after him, grabbing his shoulder. “Seriously?”
Creep frowns, and now that I see him in a new light, I have to give it to him that the sharpness of his features could definitely be attractive. “Yes, seriously. I want what you have, not Grindr. I’m not stupid.”
My shoulders drop. “I didn’t try to insult you. It’s just… go out and meet other gay guys? It’s not like I have a lot of experience with that myself,” I mutter and shove my hands into my pockets, kicking a pebble up the hill. “Listen, I’ve got to go before the canteen closes, but could you actually stay? He’s sleeping, and I don’t want anyone bothering him.”
Creep hums. “Fine. Bring me a sandwich. The sweet one, with raisins.” He turns around and climbs my drainpipe with the ease of a wild cat.
I shake my head and watch him crawl onto the roof like a giant spider before forcing myself to look away, so I can get the food on time.
With the sun so bright in the cloudless sky, I regret putting on my leather jacket, but I don’t let that stop me on my way down the path. The green roof of the food hall is already peeking through the trees ahead, and I can almost smell bacon, eggs, and pancakes.
I choose to cut the distance to the canteen by going straight through the playground. I ignore the unusual silence from the parents of the three kids enjoying themselves in the sandbox, and go straight for the building close by. It’s the time of the morning when Jeremy, one of the cooks, switches the radio to a station playing jazz, but I don’t mind and walk along the wall, straight for the counter smelling of all sorts of delicacies.
It’s only now that I sense a cramp of hunger in my stomach, but the eyes following me from the moment I step inside cause a bit of nausea. I haven’t come out to be fucking ogled in my own home. Still, when I see some of my biker brothers at a table, I give them a quick nod and wave.
“Sorry, we’re closing, I can give you a sandwich,” Hank says to me from behind the counter, putting a lid over the eggs laid out on the buffet, as if to hide them from me.