Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 137572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 688(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 459(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 688(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 459(@300wpm)
Who cares?? That’s the least of my thoughts right now. What the hell is Vann doing out here? What’s on his mind? What does he think of the cast list? A slew of questions fill my head at once, all of them demanding answers.
And of all of them to spill from my lips, this one does: “Do you like it here?”
“Huh?”
What a stupid question. What a stupid, stupid question. “I, uh … I can’t imagine it’s easy. Being the new guy. In a place like this.”
A moment passes. Vann kicks a pebble in the road, sending it skittering ahead. “It’s alright.”
“Are you mad?” I blurt out, unable to help myself.
Vann frowns down at the road, not looking at me. “What?”
My heart is racing like I’m still being chased by a mystery dog I thought was trying to kill me. “About the casting. Today. The … The cast list. Me as ‘Danny’. You as ‘Kingsley’.”
He lets a moment go by. He stuffs his hands into his pockets as he shrugs. “Nah. Why the hell would I be mad?”
I swallow. My heart races faster. “B-Because it means … that … that you and I will, uh … have to—”
“So?” he cuts me off, his face scrunching up with irritation. “I thought that wasn’t a big deal in this town. Two guys kissing? Is this place so damned backwards it actually does care about that?”
“Uh …” Mind floods with imagery. Him kissing me. Me kissing him. Audience watching us. His hand on my face. Tender caressing and lips against mine and, and, and, and— “N-No, it’s … it’s not … it’s not backwards at all.” Did he just say that? It’s no big deal to him? Two guys kissing? He and I kissing? I literally can’t think of anything else now. “Spruce is …” Am I still talking? Are we still walking? What is life? “Spruce is a pretty open and … what was I saying? … open and, um, accepting place. For a small town.”
He shrugs. “Good.” He kicks another pebble, sending it into a nearby gutter to kerplunk in the unknowable water below.
We walk in silence for a while. My brain is on fire. I am very clearly dwelling on that same fact, over and over, spiraling around in my brain like a rollercoaster in the shape of an infinity sign. “So you—” I swallow, cutting myself off. “—you really don’t mind?”
He still directs all his words to the pavement. “Mind what?”
“Kissing me?”
“Didn’t I say I don’t care already? It’s acting, isn’t it? You play a role. If I’m playing a gay dude with a cat allergy, fine, I’ll do it.”
“Well, yeah, it’s acting, but—Wait, it’s Danny with the allergy. Not Kingsley.”
He frowns at the side of my face. “Huh?”
“My character has the allergy,” I remind him. With a glance at Vann’s gorgeous face, I realize looking at him and his frowning, pouty lips is a mistake, especially with all the kissy-kissy going on in my head, so I look away at once. “I, uh, claim to have an allergy, kinda. But it’s probably just to antagonize you. You are the cat.”
“Hm. Right.” His tone softens, and I hear a hint of amusement when he adds, “Just a dirty stray, huh?”
I smile in the dark. “A dirty stray.”
Before I know it, we’re turning onto my street, and my house looms ahead. I stop at the corner with Vann as Winona zips ahead of us, likely heading for the gate toward my shed. I’d put money down that it’s the gate that got left open with her in the backyard.
I turn to Vann. “Well, I’m home now. So, uh … thanks for—”
“We never got your apron,” Vann points out.
“Oh. I literally … completely forgot about it,” I admit. “Guess I was too wrapped up in …” Chatting with you. Walking alongside you. Shivering with disbelief that we ran into each other. Wondering what it would be like to kiss you. Then realizing I will know that reality soon whether I’m ready for it or not. In front of people. “So anyway,” I cut off my looping thoughts, “thank you for walking me home. I’m pretty sure you had more fun things you could’ve done tonight, but—”
“Nah, this was fine.” His hands go into his pockets again as he gazes off toward where Winona ran. “Sorry your dog wrestled you into the mud and won.”
Suddenly, I realize it’s Friday night, he’s clearly got nowhere else to be, and my house is a stone’s throw across the street. Is this when I invite him over to hang out? Is it too late? Would I appear desperate? Or is he expecting me to? Is that why he said this was fine? Am I just going to continue standing here while he—?
“Wanna hang out with me for a bit?” I blurt, then freeze.