Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
“Want to join us? Meet Bryan?”
Does her son even know she’s playing matchmaker? Well, that’s not my problem. I don’t like turning down turkey, though, so here goes nothing. “Thanksgiving sounds fun, but I’m not dating,” I say.
She sighs, defeated, but then smiles again. “It was worth a shot. And of course, you’re welcome on Turkey Day. We were talking about you on the phone last night and about your interview with Eva. We were excited for you, though, and for what it means.”
Even if I came out on TV for me, what I said does affect others. It matters to others. That’s still hard for me to get used to, but I’ll have to. “Thanks. I’m glad to hear that. Do you need me to help with anything else?” I ask, hoping she’ll have a chore list long enough to fill the day.
“No, you go rest. You have practice tomorrow,” she says.
That bout of busy work brought me to two-thirty in my Jason decompression. I retreat to my home, pick up a copy of the new Axel Huxley thriller I snagged at the bookshop around the corner, and curl up on my beanbag.
This story will have to do the heavy lifting for the afternoon. Good thing Huxley writes bonkers sex scenes. The hero in his last book injured his back during shower sex, so it’s not like I’m going to get turned on as I read his stories.
For a few hours, I do my best to get lost in the vigilante-for-hire’s crime investigations. By chapter ten, when the hero foils a plot to blow up an abandoned subway station in Dublin, I mostly stop thinking about Jason and how I feel so wound up around him. But when my phone buzzes, I’m hoping it’s him. I click on my texts and it’s my buddy Drew in LA. I try not to be bummed.
Drew: Dude! It’s getting weirder here at the Devil Sharks.
Beck: Uh oh. What’s going on?
Drew: This team is like a reality TV show.
Was it? I didn’t notice that stuff. I write back.
Beck: I kind of flew under the radar when I was in LA.
Drew: Yeah, no shit. That’s your superpower.
Beck: And I highly recommend it.
Drew: Anyway, I’ll tell you more later. Team meeting!
I set my phone down, and return to the book for another round of narrow escapes and mind-boggling missions. In chapter fifteen, as Huxley commandeers a helicopter in Vienna, Carter texts. I jump on the possible lifeline.
Carter: Want to grab a bite to eat and check out my Tinder matches with me?
More than anything. I write back, stat.
Beck: You don’t waste a second.
Carter: I do not. I love dating.
Beck: Name the time and place, and I’ll be there.
Carter: There’s a hot pot I want to try. It’s near Japan Town, which is near you. Seven-thirty.
Dinner will put me closer to my goal of finishing this day without confessing to Jason what I want to do with him.
Beck: I’ll be there.
At seven-fifteen, I’m freshly showered and dressed in jeans and a black short-sleeve button-down. Since I like to walk, I head toward Japan Town on foot, using the time to catch up with my friend Rachel.
“Tell me, Beck. Are your DMs lit up with offers for sex and dates after last night?”
Laughing, I shake my head. “No, because I don’t have DMs.”
“Ah, that’s why you never got on social. So you wouldn’t get hit on,” she says.
“Yeah, I hate it when people find me attractive,” I deadpan as I turn the corner onto Webster Street.
“Speaking of,” she says, a leading tone to her words that borders on flirty.
But she’s not flirting with me. She’s flirting with information. Ever since we broke up nearly two years ago, staying good friends, she’s been asking me about my dating life. Rachel knew I was bi when we were together. She’s bi too.
“Speaking of what, Rach?” I love to toy with her.
“C’mon. You know what I want. Is there anyone in San Francisco? You hear all about my misadventures. I want to hear yours.”
“San Francisco is pretty cool so far. The cuisine is good, and my landlady is a sweetheart,” I tease.
I picture her stomping her foot. “That’s not what I mean. Have you met anyone you like as much as you liked me?”
Rachel does not lack in the confidence department. I suspect that’s why we stayed friends.
“Nope,” I say, but guilt wiggles through me over the lie.
I picture Jason and his deep blue eyes, his smile that’s both cocky and sweet, his confidence and his kindness.
Do I like him as much as her? While I don’t feel the same—Rachel and I were once in love—I am insanely attracted to Jason. Maybe more than I was to her. Maybe more than I’ve been to anyone. The pull toward him is unreal. It’s a storm whipping inside me, and I can’t break away from it.