Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“’Sup?” his brother said.
“Hey.” I crossed my arms. His gaze slid the length of me, not in a you’re-hot way, but in an I-don’t-trust-you. “I’m Brax’s…” What the fuck was I? Brax’s alien-abducted associate? “Coworker.” There. That worked.
“Oh yeah. You’re that guy who was here the other morning.”
The morning he didn’t give a shit that Brax was sick. Obviously, I was feeling some kinda way about this.
“He’s not home. He’s visiting our grandma at the assisted-living facility. When he goes, he’s usually there almost all day.”
His grandma was in a facility? He’d said he was helping someone but didn’t mention he was spending time with his grandmother. Guilt pricked at my insides. I hadn’t meant to take him away from something important…something that seemed to be important to him. Something that was sort of sweet. No, no, no, no. I would not allow myself to think of Braxton Walker as sweet. Hell, my other friends had grandmas too, and that didn’t automatically make my insides turn mushy.
“I talked to him a little while ago,” I told him. “He should be here soon. I just wanted to stretch my legs.”
“Are you his man? You don’t seem like Brax’s type, and he doesn’t look like yours. He never has guys here unless it’s a fuck and go. But this is twice with you. Is coworker code for fuck buddy now?” He laughed.
Well, at least I knew for sure that Brax was out to his brother. I was always careful about what I said around the family of queer people if I didn’t know their situation. It was sad that I had to think that way, but the world was fucked sometimes. “No, I’m not his boyfriend. And how can you look at someone and say if they’re someone else’s type?” Forget that he was right. The statement still rubbed me wrong. Like, Brax and I couldn’t be anything because we were too different?
You thought the same thing five seconds ago, dumbass.
“Oh, gotcha. You like him, but Brax thinks he’s too good for you. I get it, man. He’s the same with me.” He held out his fist, wanting me to bump it in support. I was really starting to wish I’d just stayed in my car. Sure, I might have tormented Brax by telling him the same thing, that he thought he was better than me, but it felt gross to do that with his brother. Like I was betraying him somehow.
A car pulled up then, three guys in it. Brax’s brother—I didn’t even know the guy’s name—gave me an up nod before climbing in and driving off with them. Less than a minute later, I heard the familiar rumble of Brax’s motorcycle. He rounded the corner, pulled into the driveway, and killed the engine.
He tugged off his helmet, which had flattened his black hair. “Got here early. Excited to see me?”
“I figured it’d been a while since you’ve had any fun and took pity on you.”
He shook his head, but a small smile teased his lips. He always tried to hide it, like he couldn’t let on that he enjoyed something, and I couldn’t help wondering why. What all had Brax lost?
“So, homework, huh?” he asked.
“Wait. We’re really doing that?” School was boring. It was a Friday, and we’d amazingly somehow both gotten off work.
“What else did you have in mind?”
“Hmm… There are literally hundreds of options that sound a whole lot more fun than school.” I couldn’t help checking him out because, I mean, Brax was gorgeous. There was no denying that, and I wouldn’t even pretend to try. He wore jeans like he always did, just loose enough to be hot but still show the goods. His stomach was flat, his black T-shirt tight against it. He still had the necklace on, but he was missing his rings today.
He gave me a half-grin, then walked closer. He didn’t stop until he stood right in front of me. I could feel the heat of his cinnamon-scented breath, and damned if it didn’t make me tremble slightly.
“You want me, don’t you?”
Yes, yes I did. Who could blame me? “You want me too. You’re just determined to deny it more than I am.”
Brax leaned in the same way he’d taunted me countless other times, lips close to my ear. “Get your backpack, Lacrosse. We have homework to do.”
“Oh, fuck you. I might have to rub one out real quick when we get inside. I’ll let you watch.”
“You wish,” Brax replied.
I jogged over to my car and got my bag, which I’d brought in case he really forced me to do this.
As soon as we went inside, he cursed. There were beer cans everywhere, a couple of bottles of liquor on the living-room table, discarded bags of chips. The kitchen counters were covered in dirty dishes with food on them. “I fucking told him to clean up his shit.” Brax went toward the hallway. “Asher!”