Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 161257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 806(@200wpm)___ 645(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 806(@200wpm)___ 645(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Silence.
A small shuffling sound.
Finally, Tad exhaled. “I know… I guess I gauged shit wrong… I’m sorry. I wish I could see you… Really fucking bad… But I can’t.”
His tone sounded weird. Scott leaned against the counter. “So, no working out? What about your friends?”
“I told them I wasn’t coming. They’re gonna go to the fitness center.” He chuckled a little. It sounded forced. “Merry Christmas. You get the night off.”
Scott pursed his lips. “I don’t want the night off. I want to see you. Was looking forward to you coming over all day long.”
Another, softer, exhale. “I miss you, too.”
Scott frowned. “You mean that?”
“Of course. I’m friggin’ dyin’.”
Then why was he throwing that fucked up vibe?
Scott switched his phone to his other ear. Scratched his cheek. Gave a shrug. “Then I’ll come there.”
“What? Come here?” Tad suddenly sounded tense. “Uh… You can’t… You’ll distract me.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Yes, you will.”
“I’ll hang out in another room. Stay completely out of your way till you’re done.”
“It’ll be late. A total waste. Let’s just… hook up this weekend.”
Scott stilled. Frowned harder. “This weekend? Are you serious?”
“I know, right?” Tad’s voice… He sounded sad. “Feels like forever. Fucking sucks.”
Scott stood up straight. Shook his head. “Not happening.”
“Scott. Dude, please,” Tad all but frickin’ pleaded. “Just a couple more days. Then I’ll be good.”
What in the hell? Tad was stressing. Scott could hear it.
His heart pounded anxiously. Something wasn’t right. Something that Tad was clearly trying to hide. But what? Didn’t he know that he could tell Scott anything? Apparently not, which really bummed Scott out. Looked like he’d have to solve the puzzle himself.
“Alright,” he murmured, eyeing the front door. “A couple more days. Have fun studying.”
* * *
A couple more days, his ass.
Try another hour—max.
Scott shoved a change of clothes into the duffle on his bed, then grabbed his comb and toothbrush from the bathroom. He’d given Tad ample time. They’d talked at six and now it was nine. Surely Tad needed a break from all that studying—or whatever it was he was doing.
Scott sighed and raked a hand through his dark, spiky hair, still not sure if he bought Tad’s explanation. Having to suddenly cram for finals that he’d felt confident about just two days ago? It didn’t add up. The logic felt skewed.
Not that Scott thought Tad was trying to be underhanded, because he didn’t. Never got that kind of vibe. Especially last night, when Tad had called him after class. He’d sounded downright terrible, like he was sick… or in pain. Evidently he was neither, though, since his only reason for ditching was that he suddenly had to go home and study.
Truth be told, Tad’s strange behavior made Scott uneasy. Just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Something that, regardless of whether Tad realized it or not, he’d handle better if he had Scott to lean on.
Problem was, Tad hated looking weak in front of Scott. Only wanted to come across as tough and strong. Scott knew this. It was a trait of Tad’s that he’d discerned from day one, back during their very first encounter. And Scott loved that about Tad. It warmed his heart. Made him adore his valiant shy boy all the more.
But right now, that pride was somehow coming between them.
Scott shoved into his boots. Nope. Not today. He was getting to the bottom of this tonight. He’d worked too hard, waited too long, to let whatever was going on funk their magic. Tad was all he’d ever wanted, the only man he’d ever love. Like hell would Scott wait days to fix this.
Grabbing his duffle bag, he headed for the door, determination driving his every step. He was going over to Tad’s whether he liked it or not. If Tad was studying like he claimed to be, Scott would park it in another room. Stay out of Tad’s hair till he was finished. Either way, they would be together tonight. And they’d be staying that way until morning.
Scott hit the staircase and headed down, wanting to give Max the heads up that he was leaving. That and to tell him not to bother waiting up. That Scott was finally having his first sleepover at Tad’s. But as he rounded the banister at the base of the stairs, the sound of something shattering made him tense. It’d come from Max’s studio.
Another loud crash.
Like a whole mess of shit hitting the floor.
What the fuck? Max was always super careful in there.
Scott hustled toward the commotion and pushed through the door. “Max? You okay, man?”
Max whirled around. “Fucking knock!”
Scott froze. Aw, shit. Max was piss-ass drunk—and from the looks of it, gearing up to trash his studio. Two sculptures were already in pieces on the floor; the hawk Scott really liked and one other. A shelving unit appeared to have bitten it, too, lying broken on its side, tools scattered everywhere.