Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80014 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80014 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Oh, I know, and I’m just saying,” my brother told me. “Between dealing with the thug that smashed up the bar and your new relationship with Jack, your plate’s obviously very full.”
It wasn’t a relationship, but I definitely had a lot to figure out where Jack was concerned. Was it more than a mutual attraction? Did I want it to be, and if so, could I actually trust him? I hadn’t been kidding when I told my mom it was complicated.
11
Jack
I sat down on Romy’s dark blue, L-shaped sofa and looked around me. The apartment was definitely on the modest side, really just a box with white walls, but he’d obviously tried to make it feel like home. There were house plants and framed photos clustered around the room, and the furniture had been selected with comfort in mind.
Even though they looked nothing alike, it made me think of the pink Victorian. Oddly, a tinge of homesickness accompanied that thought. I’d only spent a week there, so that didn’t make sense. But there it was.
I pulled my thoughts back to the present and took another look at the text I’d just received. Wyatt had written: Hey J, it’s been a minute. What are you up to?
Where should I start?
Wyatt and I had been best friends since high school, and I thought of him like a brother. But just like with my mom, I didn’t tell him everything. I was sure he strongly suspected I was a criminal, but we coexisted with this don’t ask, don’t tell unspoken rule between us.
It was just that Wyatt was this sweet, innocent guy, and I thought the truth of who exactly he’d been friends with all these years would hurt him, just like it would hurt my mom to find out what her only child had amounted to. So, while I never lied to Wyatt, I deliberately kept things vague.
That meant I was now faced with the dilemma of how to explain Adriano. I ended up writing: Hey W, I’m currently in Vegas with a hot guy. Long story. How’ve you been?
Since I’d never had a relationship, he didn’t automatically assume this person and I were dating. He responded: Forget that how’ve I been business. You know I need details about this hot guy. How else can I live vicariously through you?
I worried about my friend. I didn’t know if it was because he was deaf or because he was Wyatt, but he tended to live a pretty isolated existence. Most of his time was spent alone in his apartment, either playing video games or drifting around the internet. He even worked from home as a programmer, so there was very little to get him out of the house.
I told him: He’s tall, dark, and Italian, and sexy beyond words. His name’s Adriano.
I could have left it at that, but I really wanted to talk about this, so I sent another text: I’m currently at his brother’s apartment, and I just met Adriano’s ex-boyfriend. Now I feel like a slug by comparison. The ex is a doctor. As if that’s not enough, he’s also tall and muscular with blond hair and blue eyes. He looks like a giant Ken doll.
Wyatt replied: Gross. I hate the Ken doll type.
I grinned and texted: Me, too. But how am I supposed to compete with Dr. Perfect?
My friend’s response was: First of all, you’re smoking hot. You may not be Dr. Perfect, but you’re your own brand of sexy. You’re like a Midwestern David Tennant.
I laughed out loud at that as another text popped up: Besides, who says you need to compete with this guy? He’s an ex for a reason, right? The fact that you’re thinking about this stuff suggests this is more than a hookup, though. So, did a miracle happen? Did you finally start dating, at the ripe old age of 34?
I had no chance of lying about how old I was with Wyatt, since we were the same age. I wrote: No, we’re not dating. I do like him though, but I’ve already given him plenty of reasons not to trust me, so I doubt this’ll go anywhere.
Wyatt answered: Think positive, dude. You never know. I’m going to let you go in a minute, since you’re busy with this guy. But first I’m going to call you for proof of life.
This was an old joke with us. We did most of our communicating by text, but then he always liked to end with a quick video call, so we could see each other and make sure the other person really was okay—like in those TV crime shows where the kidnappers sent the victim’s family proof their loved one was still alive.
A few seconds later, I answered the call and my friend appeared on the screen. Wyatt was a stocky redhead with a lot of freckles, and he currently looked a bit like a mountain man, since he’d grown a full beard and was way overdue for a haircut. We waved at each other, and I signed, “Love you, bro,” before we ended the call.