Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I think this might work out. He said that at dinner a few nights ago. It was offered like a truce, even if not an outright palm up, take my hand, and we can be kind of friends gesture.
Something funny stirs in my chest as Darius follows me out the front door. Hans gets up and comes along with us, which is something I expected. Darius never goes far without him. They both stop abruptly when they take in the sleek, cherry-red object parked in the circular paved driveway.
“Oh my god,” Darius breathes, and it’s a shallow breath. The kind people inhale when they’re trying to stay calm and not explode.
“It’s mine,” I explain as I rush over to the side of the sporty convertible. It was delivered this morning, off a flat deck of some shipping company. The five thousand dollars it cost seemed to be a budget price, and I did do my research. It’s an older car, and it has high mileage, but I liked it. Five grand is more than I’ve spent on just about anything at once, and even if it’s a drop in the bucket now, it felt weird doing it. Paying for it and the taxes and the other fees and for it to be delivered here from the city, all on my own, was a brand new experience. “You got me my Illinois driver’s license, so it’s already registered in my name.” Funny what money can do. It can work wonders, even over the phone.
Darius swallows hard. He’s gone pale, and I hate that the color has bled out of his face. I don’t like to see him this way. Scared, frustrated, hurt, and in pain. I don’t want that for him. “I could have provided you with one.”
“I know, but you’ve given me more than enough already. You don’t like vehicles, so I thought finding one myself might be less stressful for you. I can more than afford it.” Hans grunts like he finds that ironic and entirely too funny. It’s really not supposed to be a joke, but the punchline is still coming. I take a chance, stepping right in front of Darius so he has to look at me and not the car. “I…I chose it because I liked it and I want to drive it. I will drive it, but I was hoping we could just…uh…sit in it together. With the top down and going nowhere. I’ll put the keys on the grass ten feet away. It’s in your driveway, out in front of your house. It’s safe and not going anywhere. Nothing would happen to us, and we could take it slow. Maybe just a minute.”
It’s not a trap, but I can see how Darius probably thinks it is. Then again, he doesn’t have to worry about saving face in front of me. This isn’t a pride thing. I genuinely thought it would help even though I’ve never had a bucked-off incident that I’ve had to get back up on the horse for.
Don’t worry, I want to tell him. If your anus is puckering, then we’re about even right now because mine is so numb that I think it’s going inverse.
He’s preternaturally still, and for a minute, I think he’s going to turn on his heel and leave, but then he slowly nods. I race over to him, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m throwing my arms around his neck and leaping off the ground. He has no choice but to catch me, and he grunts at the unexpected force of my body hitting his. I hug him hard, and yeah, okay I’m a hugger. This is just a hug between friends. Between one person who wants to give one and another person who very likely needs one, even if he won’t admit it.
I still catch fire and go up in flames, though. I can smell all of him: his shampoo, cologne, aftershave, laundry detergent, all of it. And he’s delicious. His cheek is smooth when I pull away and accidentally brush the side of my face against his.
He has both brows raised, and he’s speechless. Well, me too. I mean, I don’t know what to say.
“I’ll set timer,” Hans cuts in dryly. He’s doing the Russian accent again. “One minute.” Then, he snaps a white bag out of his pocket and passes it to me. “Here. Need this.”
I take it, staring hard at it as my fingers connect with the paper. “Um, it’s for, like, hyperventilating?” God, I have no experience with any of this. I am so out of my depth. How did I think this would help?
“It barf bag.”
“What?” I yelp. “Why would I need that?”
“For barf.”
“Haha, yeah, I got that. That’s really funny, Hans.”
“Not funny. You need.” He points at Darius’ back because he’s already walking to the car, which is parked in the middle of the circular paved driveway. “He needs.”