Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
I clearly also needed to explain to him that when the restaurant was packed with guests, I didn’t have the time to apply the right tone that would give him the comfort he needed.
But my fucking God, I wanted to. I wanted to trap him in a tight hug, apologize for the pain I had caused, and…
I swallowed and looked around my kitchen and living room. Despite how much I loved this place, it was a reflection of my lonely existence. It was too dark and empty. Too much work that needed to get done.
I scrubbed my hands over my face, beyond exhausted and unable to roll with the punches. Hell, I was still processing seeing him at the bar, discovering he was kinky, and finding out how many of his kinks lined up with mine. It was fucking surreal.
Even more so when I forced myself to acknowledge what Alessia had not-so-subtly hinted at for so long. That Tracy had a crush on me. His uncertainties and awkwardness tonight had confirmed how much my reactions meant to him. How much of an impact my behavior made.
It was terrifying. My stomach was a damn mess. What-ifs crept forward, dreams I’d killed off started to come back to life, and maybes and hope tightened their grip around my chest.
“I hope you’ll consider joining…”
I felt queasy with longing and this…this…unsettledness. Shit was moving too fast, while not going fast enough. Everything was up in the air, and I hated it. In my line of work, I had to think fast and be prepared for constant and swift changes. And I loved it there. There. Not here. Not for my personal life. Not for emotions and relationships and family.
I had to join the event, and I had to talk to the boy.
I had to stop being so goddamn scared of seeing another relationship crash and burn.
It was easier said than done, though. At this point in my life, I wanted shit settled. I wanted that person I shared everything with. Tracy was likely hopped up on a Little crush, eager and anxious, while thinking in terms of “Let’s give it a go!” and “Let’s see what happens!”
Most of us were like that when we were young, right? We didn’t think that far ahead. We were more comfortable trying things out, and if it didn’t work, eh, no biggie.
Maybe I’d been born a jaded old bastard, because I’d never jumped up and down in joy when someone had taken an interest in me—and I wasn’t doing that now either. If that made me conceited or just aware of my own appeal, I didn’t know. But going by experience, I’d never struggled to find someone for a short-term thing. Countless men had wanted to submit to me. Crushes had been a dime a dozen. But then… After that? Nothing. No one stuck around for long.
Tracy probably wouldn’t either, if we ended up starting something.
After grabbing a beer from the fridge, I slumped down on my couch and just stared unseeingly at my TV.
I didn’t turn it on.
I kicked my feet up on a moving box.
Join the event or stay back?
I was going to join, but it might very well become my biggest regret at some point. Because Tracy wasn’t Charlie. Tracy was real. He evoked strong reactions in me—always had. And he wasn’t a “down the road” guy. He wanted to jump. If he had a dream, he went for it.
Snap the fuck out of it.
I winced and took a swig of my beer.
What was wrong with me?
No matter how painful failure could be, there was only one fucking route for potentially finding someone. And it started with let’s try. Nothing more, nothing less. What if, to change things up a bit, I greeted Tracy with a smile tomorrow rather than some broody fucking frown?
What if I cracked a joke instead of acting like a sad fucker all the time?
He and Adam had a great relationship. While Adam hadn’t picked up on Tracy’s awkwardness today—or heard any of the questions—he’d noticed Tracy was unusually chatty when he dropped off orders at the grill. But instead of worrying about it, he’d leaned close to me and said, “Remember when we were young and could do everything at once? I miss those days.”
I didn’t miss them, but I did miss being happy.
I arrived earlier at work the next day because we’d had a lunch service today, and there wasn’t enough time to get the kitchen ready unless everyone helped out.
Coho’s lunch services came and went on a month-to-month schedule announced on Instagram, and it was only two or three days a week. We didn’t have enough staff for more than that. The lunch chef was good, as long as he didn’t go off-script.
Tracy seemed to be in a great mood, I noted. He wiped down the surfaces a final time and declared us ready while Adam and I went all in with food prep. We helped the cooks chop vegetables and prepare marinades, and—