Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“Alright, then. Still got that hotel chick’s number?”
“Sacrificed it like a heart to the Temple of Doom, it’s no more, burned away to ash, only Harrison Ford knows her digits now.”
Pete grips his chest dramatically. “Fuck! Why’d you gotta go and Indiana Jones me like that??”
“Because I guess I’m a sadistic, uptight laundry boy who folds his buddy’s underwear, that’s why.” I cross the room and pull my phone off the charger. “Shit, this charges fast. 40% will get me through the night.”
“Stick it in his butt, bro. Just do it. Call him up and—hey!” I’m already out of his room and heading down the hall as his voice chases me. “Bury your big hot hatchet in his big hot butt, I swear you’ll answer each other’s prayers! Bridge! Hey!”
It’s almost one in the morning when I’m back on the couch, phone balanced on my bare chest, not a sound in the house except for the muffled hum of whatever’s playing on Trey and Cody’s TV in their bedroom. I’m absently licking my lips. I stop the second I realize I’m doing it, then wonder what the hell I’m licking.
Am I trying to taste Anthony again?
Do I need to “bump his butt and get it out of my system”?
Anthony is obviously undergoing some discoveries of his own. It’s no mystery this is all new to him and I’m apparently the sexual awakening angel who woke up the desire slumbering in his heart his whole life. Sure, in a way it’s flattering, but I can’t take it as casually as Pete wants me to. If Anthony is spooked by a sober kiss on a park bench, he’s gonna need to take time to figure this whole thing out. He’ll need to go slow. He can’t just run through the bases. The guy needs to walk. Slowly. Baby crawl, at that.
And with my limited time here in this town, I may not be that guy for him, sexual awakening angel or not.
After a conversation with the bouncer at the front, the four of us move through a small lobby, which honestly reminds me of the waiting area of a restaurant, leading me to wonder if this place might’ve once served tasty Chinese food, ran out of business, and got taken over by gay men and converted into a nightclub. We go through a tacky, colorfully-lit archway into a surprisingly narrow room full of dancing bodies and flashing lights. It really is one of the oddest nightclubs I’ve been to, but since entering the place, I haven’t seen someone who looks unhappy, so it must be doing the trick for the locals and whoever comes here from the surrounding towns—like us.
Besides the glances we get as we cut through the room, what catches my eye are all the neon signs glowing on the walls. One of them is a hot pink dick. Another is a martini glass. And right by the DJ’s head: a huge red smiley face with its tongue sticking out.
The second I see it, I recognize it. The sticker that fell off Anthony’s ass at the gas station. Does he come here? All the way out of town where no one will know? Or is it just a coincidence?
After our “date” last night, I’m not feeling like anything is a coincidence anymore involving that guy.
“What do you think??” shouts Pete at me as we cut through the crowd of dancing, half-naked men. “Isn’t it wild??”
“Smells like cat pee in here.”
“What??” The thumping music hits with enough intensity to crack walls. “Hey, let’s get drinks!”
The bartender is so busy, it’s ages before any of us have a drink in hand—minus Cody, our designated driver. Trey and Pete seem the most loose out of us, enjoying themselves as they dance and laugh by the bar. Cody has become closed up and guarded, nursing his soda, an intimidating presence as he studies the room with laser eyes. I’m acclimating to the dim yet lively atmosphere as I try my best to ignore the attention our arrival earned.
We’ve only been here for less than twenty minutes when Pete leans into me and says, “Hey, I’m gonna go outside with Cody for a sec. Think the noise is getting to him. He isn’t saying it, but he’s got that look. Keep Trey company, alright? Be right back.”
After they leave, Trey slides over to me with his vodka tonic. “It’s been ages since we’ve gone out partying like this.” Then he playfully rolls his eyes. “Married life.”
I chuckle, glancing off where Pete and Cody went. “I just hope this wasn’t too much for your husband. We could have a calmer time. Saw a billiards place just down the street. Bowling alley, too, if you don’t mind smelling like smoke and funk all night.”
“We’ll smell like that anyway here,” he points out.