Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Parker winked at him and grinned. “There’s always a choice, baby boy. Think about it. Get out of the city. Go home. See your friends. Do something. You’re too fucking pretty to look so damn sad.” Parker stood. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in a bit.”
With a shrug, he walked from the room but his words were still with Matt. Go home. See your friends. You’re too fucking pretty.
It always came down to that. When he’d left LA, he’d sworn he would find a way to make something of himself on his own, without any help from Oliver. Without relying on people desiring him physically for him to get ahead…but he hadn’t done that, had he? And that was part of the reason it felt tarnished. Part of the reason the emptiness inside him continued to grow. Beneath the surface, he was still that same kid he’d always been.
Matt hated it when he had to go with his mom to work. It was such bullshit. He always felt out of place in that house. Oliver would try to talk to him because he felt sorry for him. His friends Chance and Miles sort of hung around in the background like they wondered what Oliver was doing. He was rich. His life was perfect. He was already out of the closet, and his mom and dad were like Gay Crusader parents when Matt’s own looked at him like he was an alien from another planet. They were confused by him…didn’t understand him.
Oliver’s family was like the perfect families you saw on TV.
And Matt had to spend his summer days helping his mom clean their house. Fucking great. It was torture because when he did come, he just wanted to play. To sit at Oliver’s piano and pretend it was his, which only annoyed him, especially when Oliver was around and didn’t seem to realize how cool the instrument was.
Luckily, Oliver’s parents were out of town and he was spending the week at his friend Chance’s house—at least that was what Matt’s mom had told him.
Tired of having to help his mom with things he didn’t want to do, Matt made his way into their living room.
It was kind of ridiculous. Nothing was out of place. The carpets were a cream color and there wasn’t a single stain on them. But then he thought maybe he was cutting them a raw deal too because despite how perfect it was…their house was also homey. Comfortable. They had family pictures all over the walls and an award Oliver won for an essay-writing contest. Their house was filled with memories and happiness, and Matt was in such a shitty mood that it annoyed him even more.
In a bad enough mood to let his eyes find the expensive piano in the corner of the room that taunted him every time he came over.
Since no one was here other than his mom who was cleaning upstairs, he let himself walk over to it. Let his fingers feel the cool, white and black keys. Imagined that it was his. That he could play it any time he wanted. That he took lessons and there was an award on the wall he’d won for playing.
And then he sat down on the bench…put his fingers on the keys…and began to play.
He had a keyboard at home that he’d gotten for Christmas, but it was nothing like this. The clear sound wasn’t the same, and it didn’t feel the same. This was life. It was passion and energy and happiness all wrapped up in one.
He played a song he’d written himself, something he taught himself on his keyboard that he pretended he’d never have to play again. Because this was his piano in his house, and he could let the music that lived inside of him out any moment he wanted to.
“Matt! What are you doing? That’s expensive! You can’t mess around with other people’s things.”
He tried to ignore his mom’s voice, tried to keep playing but then someone else spoke. “It’s okay, ma’am. He can play it. He’s not going to hurt anything.”
Matt froze at the sound of Oliver’s voice. His cheeks heated at the thought of Oliver having heard him play and his mom scolding him for it.
“Thank you, Oliver. That was nice of him, wasn’t it, Matt?” his mom asked.
Matt closed his eyes, took a deep breath, ignored the part of him that just wanted to walk out, and turned to Oliver. “Yeah. Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Oliver waved his hand. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just a piano.”
Just a piano? Just a fucking piano? Matt clenched his fists.
“You’re awesome. Like, extremely good. I didn’t know you played,” Oliver told him.
When Matt didn’t reply, his mom said, “Oh, he just plays around. He is very good, though.”