Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
“I want to be your boyfriend. The real one. Not fake. Not friends-with-benefits. Not random booty calls between neighbors. A boyfriend. I don’t want to breakup, even for pretend. I don’t want a breakup cat. I want you.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, and what I really want is you to want that too.”
“It’s not that I don’t—”
“Please spare me any ‘it’s not you’ speeches. Please. If you want this, if you want me, let’s do it. But if you’re too scared to trust me…” Russ sighed as he shoved his feet into shoes. “I’m not sure what else I can do to make you believe this is real. When you figure it out, let me know.”
“Russ.” Esteban reached out for him again.
“Thanks to you, I’ve figured out a lot about myself the past couple of weeks. And one of those things is that I’m going to go after the things in life I really want—the promotion, more of a social life, better health, and you. I don’t want to settle.”
“I don’t want you to settle either.”
Hell, how had this gone so sideways so quickly? And how was Esteban supposed to stop him from leaving? He didn’t know what else to say, because he couldn’t deny being scared of being hurt or quash his doubts about this lasting. But he also didn’t want Russ to leave. Something of his indecision must have shown on his face, because Russ let out a huff of air.
“I want you. I’m pretty sure I’m more than half in love with you already. And when you’re willing to give this a try, a real try, you know where to find me.”
And with that, Russ was gone, stalking off toward the front door, leaving Esteban reeling and without the right words to call him back.
Fuck. He collapsed on the side of the bed, eyes burning, needing to swallow hard against a tidal wave of emotion. He wanted Russ back here, in his bed, in the cozy little space they’d made where they could talk about nothing and everything all at the same time. Except, apparently, the state of their relationship. Relationship.
Even earlier that day, he would have sworn that wasn’t what this was. It was a fake relationship favor that had slid into a friendship that had morphed without permission into…a relationship.
Damn it. He’d like to continue to pretend this was simply friends knocking boots occasionally, but the sex had stripped him bare, turned his emotions inside out, and affected him on a far deeper level than any hookup he’d ever had. That, and Russ’s words, made it impossible to keep pretending.
This was…something. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, this thing between them was significant, and he cared about Russ way too much. He liked hanging out with Russ, liked listening to him talk, liked cooking together, liked how Russ let him get away with his bossy nature but also could take over when Esteban needed him to. Like with the sex.
God, the sex. So good. Impossible to call it simply a friendship when Russ made him feel that amazing—on fire and quenched all at once, needy and crazy and accepted and…lov—
No. He couldn’t think the word. Cared about. Russ made him feel sexy and cared about. That was all.
He needed a drink before he drove himself nuts with trying to sort his brain out. Still wearing the blankets, he made his way to the kitchen.
Fuck. He was so, so screwed and alcohol wasn’t going to do a damn thing to help. As he looked around the room, he couldn’t help but see Russ’s design ideas for his future remodel. The color. The little touches he'd planned just for Esteban. The way he’d somehow managed to capture the essence of who Esteban was in a computer rendering.
He made Esteban feel seen in a way that nothing else ever had. Not all the plays and TV shows. No audience applause could compete with Russ’s intent expression as he listened. No other relationship had made him feel this validated.
And you’re letting it go? He paused in the middle of getting himself some water. Russ thought he was a coward, and he was probably right. Which sucked, because Russ was one of the most courageous people Esteban knew. His perseverance in building a new life was one of the things that Esteban loved most about him.
Hell. There was that word again. Unavoidable, chasing him down like an arrow until he was forced to admit the truth. He already loved Russ.
Russ wanted to be boyfriends. And wasn’t that what they already were? Shared meals, outings, dates, and caring about each other. And if he cared, which he did, then he was doing a terrible job of showing it.
Sighing, he gazed out of the kitchen, around the living space, eyes landing on his little Christmas tree. This was supposed to have been a holiday fling. And now it was all so complicated. He remembered his vision about next year, helping Russ decorate, still being together, everything he truly wanted.