Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“I don’t know that I can get an army, but I have these friends Ilsa and Max who are from out of town, and I think they’re staying here. I’ll let you know.”
The thought of having a Thanksgiving dinner excites me in a way that reminds me of how I used to be. It’s not the same as it would have been, but it makes me feel more like my old self. A baby step in the right direction.
And I already know who else I want to invite—obviously, Zane.
After Steven and I finish catching up, I hang up, and I’m already texting my short king fuck buddy: If you want to see me before tonight, you free to hit up the gym later?
Since we started fucking around, we’ve jogged around the neighborhood and hit the gym together; he’s becoming my own personal escort. Even though I know it’s to make sure I’m safe, it’s nice getting to spend time with him outside of messing around at his place.
ZANE: I’ll be finished up around three, if that works for you. Or I can drop this and get back to it later.
ME: 3 works great.
ZANE: I’ll text you when I’m done.
ME: Or you could come over…
ZANE: You aren’t worried your parents will get the door?
ME: That’s kind of what I’m hoping for.
Maybe I’m pushing this too far. What if he’s not comfortable with that…or thinks I’ve become all clingy and needy? Is it weird that I want them to meet him?
ME: I just think they might as well meet you since we’re spending so much time together. They’re starting to get suspicious with me coming over every other night.
And if they meet him, that could probably change to every night.
Okay, that does sound pretty damn clingy.
That damn ellipsis pops up and then disappears. Fuck. Why do smartphones do this shit? To torture people?
I’m nervous, but then a message comes through.
ZANE: Sure. I’d love to meet your parents. :)
That shouldn’t make me grin so big, but I can’t help myself. I like the idea of him meeting my family instead of this only being my dirty little secret.
A bit before three, I start listening out for the doorbell as I change into my gym clothes. I’m tying my sneakers when I hear Mom’s voice—sounds like it’s coming from the foyer, followed by Dad’s.
Is he here already?
I finish tying my shoes, then head out. When I reach the top of the stairs, Zane’s inside, chatting with Mom and Dad near the front door.
“And how are you liking the area?” Mom asks.
Zane’s got his hands tucked in his hoodie pockets, not really looking her in the eyes. He looks all tense and awkward.
“Yeah. It’s good,” he says.
Fuck, how does he manage to look so fucking sexy just by being uneasy?
“What made you decide to move here?” Dad asks. “When I was your age, I wanted to be near the city to go out and do things with my friends.”
Zane’s eyes widen.
“Oh, hey, hey!” I call out, hoping to spare him that particular question.
Zane’s gaze shifts to me, and the tension in his expression eases up as his lips curl into a smirk—the sort that has my chest swirling with sensation, my dick plumping up, my ass clenching.
How can he get me all worked up with only a look?
“We were getting to know your new friend,” Mom says.
“Nice that you’re both around the same age,” Dad adds. “The gym’s a great way to get some exercise.”
“He used to go to the gym all the time,” Mom says, “but he hasn’t been getting as much exercise as he should recently. But he’s got his father’s genes, and all it seems to do is plump out those muscles of his.”
“For now,” Dad teases.
My cheeks warm. “Okay, guys. Enough of this. We have to go.”
“He thinks we’re going to embarrass him,” Mom says before Dad chimes in, “But we can do that over dinner sometime soon, right? Maybe get the chef here to whip up something for us?”
“We’re going out of town this weekend through next weekend,” Mom says, “but maybe when we get back?”
“Oh, about that,” I say, figuring this is as good an opportunity as any, “I was wondering if it’d be all right if I had some people over for Thanksgiving.”
Mom’s and Dad’s eyes widen, their mouths slightly open. They aren’t even looking at each other, so I assume this is one of those things they share because they’ve been together so fucking long.
Mom looks to Dad before blurting out, “Of course. That would be great.”
I know they mean well, but the fact that they’re making a big deal out of this is a reminder of how fucked up I’ve been. In the past, they wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but now it’s like they’re about to call the Gwinnett Daily Post to see if this can make the front page.