Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Damn it,” I mumbled to myself, and headed for his room. I needed to make sure we were okay, though I couldn’t say why we wouldn’t be.
I tapped lightly on the door.
“Hello?” Clark replied, as if unsure he heard anything.
Slowly, I eased the door open to see him sitting in bed, his regular black glasses in place, the lamp on, a book on his lap. He wore a T-shirt, and if he had on his sleep clothes he wore around the house, there would be a long pair of pants under the blanket. “Hey,” I said softly.
“Hey.”
“Thanks for coming tonight. It was a surprise to see you there—a good surprise. I’d hoped you’d stick around a bit.”
“Seemed you were going to be busy, between work and that guy,” Clark replied, an unfamiliar hoarseness to his voice. “I mean, not that it matters. Obviously it doesn’t.” He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes darting away from me. “I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t plan to stay late anyway. It was fun, but we were ready to head out.”
I sighed, my chest feeling a little full. Somehow, I felt like I let him down, and that filled me with a sort of wrongness. Clark was too good a guy to let down. “I have no concept of personal space, so if I can’t come lie down with you for a few minutes, tell me now.”
That earned me a grin. Clark’s smiles were like a reward. “Um…sure. I guess?”
“You guess or yes?” While I was being weirdly all up in his business, consent was a must. If he agreed, I wanted it to be because he wanted to.
“Yes,” he replied, the hoarseness turning into a sexy, husky tone.
“Yay!” I jogged over and dive-bombed his bed like I was ten. No one had ever said I was super mature.
“You’re such a dork.” He treated me to a smile again, which turned into a chuckle.
“What you say is what you are.”
“Well, we knew that already, didn’t we?”
That made me frown. “Shut up. You’re not a dork. Well, maybe a little, but there’s nothing wrong with being a dork. You said it in a degrading way. Dorks are awesome. Especially sexy dorks. You totally had that sexy-dork thing going on tonight.” Always, actually, but I should probably find a way to shut my damn mouth.
“Oh my God. Whatever. I’m a dork-dork, and I wasn’t sexy tonight.”
“You, my little Clark Kent, need to clean your glasses or get a new pair or something. You’re hot. People notice you. It’s cute that you don’t notice them noticing.” I was being awfully repetitive with words tonight, but I was suddenly feeling tired. Also, it struck me then how he didn’t feel like Fancy anymore. That nickname seemed to have been relegated to our childhood, now that I’d spent more time with him.
He closed his book, and I saw he was reading The Count of Monte Cristo. I hadn’t realized people read paperbacks anymore. I loved that he did.
Clark picked at the edge of the cover, ignoring my comment when he said, “Did you? Have fun, that is. Sorry. Just being nosy. But this is what friends do, right?”
I nodded. Jesse and I talked about hookups all the time, and yet…this didn’t feel like a friend question, coming from Clark. Still, he asked, and I’d answer. This was who I was, and I’d never been ashamed of it. I didn’t plan to start now. Nothing wrong with enjoying sex and hooking up, just as much as there wasn’t anything wrong with choosing not to have casual sex. “Yeah. We jacked each other off. Quick and to the point.”
I was lying on my stomach, with my knees bent, ankles crossed, leaning on my elbows with my arms in front of me. Clark’s gaze shot to my hands, and he said, “Ew,” with a smile.
“Shut up. I washed them and showered, thank you very much. Plus, almost every hand you touch has had jizz on it.”
“Oh my God. Now I’m not gonna be able to stop thinking about that!” He grabbed a pillow, pressed it onto his face, and screamed into it. I laughed. God, he was fun.
“You can always like, elbow-bump people to say hello. Helps avoid jizz-hands.”
“I can’t believe we’re having a discussion about semen on people’s hands.”
I shrugged. “You brought it up. And remember, it could be jizz-breath instead.”
He laughed, pressing the pillow to his face again. “Stop. I can’t. You’re so weird.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t like it. You think I’m fun.” I tugged the pillow away, turned over, and stuffed it under my head.
“Oh no, I wasn’t using that or anything.”
“Screaming into it doesn’t count.”
We fell silent then. The air in the room was thick with tension, and it was both awkward and not. Uncomfortable, yet comfortable in other ways. Just like everything about my friendship with Clark, I didn’t understand half of it.