Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ramble or make things uncomfortable.”
I hated that he apologized for things he shouldn’t have to apologize for. “You didn’t. Thank you for telling me that. It means a lot to me. I never…I get emails and such, but hearing it from someone I know, there’s nothing like it.”
He pulled his glasses off, chewed the end, and nodded. “You’re welcome.”
A car honked behind us, making us both startle and chuckle. The light was green, so I pulled my attention away from Mickey and back to the road again.
We talked the whole way to my place. Not about anything huge. Mickey spoke about working at the library and his love of books. I told him I liked reading mostly nonfiction but sometimes enjoyed fiction too.
“I’ve been into queer erotica lately,” I said, and he blushed. Christ, I liked that more than I should. He was the most earnest person I have ever met and while that wasn’t something I normally paid much attention to, I did with Mickey. “Don’t be so bashful over there. You’re not gonna make fun of me for what I read, are you?”
“Absolutely not,” Mickey replied without looking at me. “I think it’s great.”
“Maybe I’ll give you some recommendations sometime.”
He nodded and changed the subject, going back to discussing the library.
We got home, and I gave him a brief tour of my three-bedroom house. It was on Clifton, which was about two blocks from the lake and as close to the water as I could afford.
Mickey lingered in the studio the longest, walking around, exploring. He seemed more comfortable than I’d ever seen him, and I liked that. I had this urge to make him smile, for him to be relaxed around me, to just be himself without any fear holding him back. He was someone special. I’d always felt that.
Mickey grinned at me for no reason that I could tell, and my heartbeat rivaled the thump, thump, thump I’d felt in the car. I didn’t know what it was about him, why he got to me so deeply.
I walked over to him, just wanting to be close. He smelled like books and paper and words. I breathed him in and brushed my fingers over his hand, which he’d rested on the back of a chair. Mickey sucked in a sharp breath, and I took a step back.
“Sorry.”
“No…don’t be.”
We were silent for a moment, still close and looking at each other, and then…grrrrr. His stomach growled loud enough for me to hear. He clutched it, looking a bit panicked for a second, then dissolved into laughter.
I took his hand. It was warm in mine, his fingers gripping me tightly as if he was afraid I would let go and he’d be lost. “Come on, Freckles. Let’s get some food in you.” I liked doing things for him, making him feel important. I didn’t think enough people had done that in Mickey’s life.
“Thank you,” he replied softly.
We headed into the kitchen where we decided on burgers and fresh-cut fries.
“Can I help?” Mickey asked.
“Of course.”
We washed our hands, then we cleaned and cut the potatoes, heated the oil, and cooked them and the burgers. We chatted the whole time. I was surprised to learn Mickey and I had a lot in common. We’d both grown up in the area, but while I left for college, he’d stayed. We both loved documentaries, sitting in the back row during movies, volunteering with queer organizations, and were Browns fans through and through.
“Their record doesn’t matter to me,” Mickey said. “I’m not that guy who only likes the most popular things or people.”
“Me either.” I grinned. The more we talked, the more I liked him.
After dinner, he insisted on doing the dishes, which meant I helped because I wasn’t going to let him do them alone. From there we ended up on the back porch, enjoying the fresh air—one hour, then two, then three ticking by. I’d never spent so much time on a date with someone just being like this. It felt natural with him, as if we had done this a hundred times in the past. I wanted to know everything about him, wanted to pick his brain and learn all of his secrets.
As if he wanted the same, Mickey asked, “Tell me the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you.” He was still a bit shy and awkward, but as the night went on, he came out of his shell more and more, talking and asking questions and laughing in this contagious way that made me not only want to do the same, but to find any and every way I could to make him do it more.
“Oh God…I don’t even know. I don’t really get embarrassed.”
“Everyone gets embarrassed, Ronan.”
I cocked a brow at him. “Do they?”