Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 75720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Truth,” Eric said as he followed behind me. “Franky likes playing with people. It had nothing to do with him still being in the closet. If someone is truly struggling to come out because of family or whatever else, then yeah, I get it. But Franky didn’t have an excuse. He was just a self-hating queer dude that wrapped you up in his toxic web.”
I took a deep breath, leaning against the counter. Everything Eric said was right. Per usual. Eric always had the read on people and knew someone’s intentions before they even shared introductions. He’d called out Franky from the moment I brought him around, saying that there was an off-putting energy around him. I ignored the warnings and red flags so that I could dive headfirst into a messy yearlong relationship instead that left me with some heavy-duty emotional scars and a heaping of shitty memories. From being cheated on (multiple times) to being left stranded in Cabo after an explosive argument on vacation, I didn’t really have much to fondly look back on.
But I had stayed with him. The brief moments of bliss I experienced with him were enough to keep me coming back for more. That trip to Cabo started with him renting out an entire villa for the two of us, the outdoor bathtub already full and covered in rose petals when we arrived, my name spelled out in ruby-red petals on the floor.
Little did I know he had a similar setup two streets down for the other guy he was flying in that same day.
“You’re going to find your prince,” Eric said, hand falling onto my shoulder. He smiled, dazzling me with that trademark grin of his.
“I’m fine with a duke. Hell, I’ll even take a viscount. A court jester? Who-the-fuck-ever, so long as they have a penis and a pulse.”
Eric snorted, shaking his head. “We gotta work on your standards.”
“Yeah, clearly,” I replied, laughing with Eric as I opened the fridge to grab the most important ingredients for a successful book club meeting: the wine… shit. Where was the wine? I moved aside the half-drank milk carton on the brink of expiring, hoping bottles of chardonnay would magically appear in between an empty bottle of orange juice and a stack of peach yogurts.
None did.
“Fack,” I said, closing the fridge. “I’m out of wine.”
“Want me to text Yvette or Jess? See if they can grab some on their way here?”
“No, that’s fine. I’ll run over to the grocery store real quick.” I grabbed my keys from the crystal bowl on the counter and slipped on a pair of sandals. Tristan looked up from his phone, arching a recently plucked and shaped brow.
“Aren’t we starting soon?” he asked.
“I’m just grabbing some wine real quick. I’ll be back. If the girls get here before me, you all can start.”
I left my friends in the living room, walking down the steps of my townhouse and jumping into my car. It was supposed to be a simple trip to the Publix around the corner; little did I know that my entire life course would be altered just because I forgot to restock on twelve-dollar bottles of wine. I could have stayed home, asked the friends who were on their way to pick up some wine for us. We could have had a dry night, sipping on water and Pepsi instead. I could have gone to the gas station or ordered it through a delivery service on my phone.
There was an infinite number of possibilities on how such a simple predicament could be solved. But only one of those possibilities pushed me directly onto a collision course with destiny.
2
JAKE PEREZ
“Ah, fuck,” I said to myself, looking in the rearview mirror and seeing the driver behind me distracted by something in his lap.
I let out a preemptive honk, which seemed to do the trick.
The car that nearly rear-ended me swerved to the left and pulled up next to me. The man started yelling and flailing his hands around. I had a sudden urge to Red Shell his ass and knock him off the road like we were in a game of Mario Kart. He was acting as if the red light we were both stopped at was my fault and forgetting all about the phone he had his nose buried in moments before he slammed on his brakes.
Instead of turning Peachtree Avenue into a bumper car arena, I sucked in a deep breath and did my best to ignore the still-yapping guy next to me. I already had too much shit on my mind to worry about some small-dicked driver forgetting the rules of the road. It had been way too long of a day, one I was more than ready to put behind me.
And this Grindr date would hopefully do just that.