Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“But this time,” she says, “I think I finally found the one.” I recognize that upward swing in pitch, and I inwardly groan.
“Let me guess.” I try to temper my tone. “Someone you met on a dating site?”
She giggles like a young girl. “His name is Tim.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “After the last guy, you agreed to find more friends to spend time with.” Most of her friends are from her job, but she recently joined an exercise class, so I’d hoped she’d meet new people.
It’s like she doesn’t even hear me when she blurts excitedly, “He says he wants to marry me.”
I scrub a hand over my face. “Lots of men have said that to you.”
“But I think he means it. He even brought me flowers and chocolate.”
I perk up at this. It might be a first. Or he’s just a good con man. “That’s nice. I’ll hope for the best.”
Back at Poli House, I shower, change, and pace around the room, deciding on what to wear. I’m never like this with hookups, but I somehow switch into serious-dater mode when it comes to Austin.
“Plans tonight?” Milo asks.
“Yep, with Austin.”
He nods, and I’m glad there’s no retort about us dating.
“Where to?”
“An LGBTQ+ mixer at the Love Shack.”
“Sounds fun.” There’s a wistfulness in his tone, and I wonder if he’s missing his ex-girlfriend, who attends college across the country. He only briefly mentioned that they broke up, but he does scroll through his photos app a lot, not that I’d call him on it.
“It should be.” I don’t mention the color-coded thing because the whole top/bottom discussion outside of the community can sometimes turn uncomfortable. Besides, I have no idea if that’s even on the agenda tonight. “How about you?”
He hitches a shoulder. “Might just hang around here.”
I feel guilty but not enough to cancel on Austin. No doubt a few of the other housemates will be around tonight, and there are enough video consoles and television sets to keep everyone occupied if they’re searching for distractions.
I head toward the door. “See you later.”
I walk downstairs to wait for Austin. Ian is in the living room, playing some sort of survival game, which proves my point.
“You had a great turnout today,” Ian says, referring to the fundraiser.
“We did. Bet they were surprised how much stuff we dropped off.”
Ian is pretty charitable himself, so he gets how fulfilling it can be. “And grateful.”
I smile. “True.”
A knock startles me, despite knowing it’s Austin.
“Hey there!” I say as I swing open the door.
What I didn’t expect was for him to be holding a Bean Necessities cup. “Thought I’d bring you a coffee. After a day like today, you could probably use it.”
I notice the red heart on the sleeve as he hands it to me. It’s a coffee shop promotion, but it still warms my stomach.
“God, thank you.” I sip the coffee, not realizing how much I’ve been craving some caffeine. “First food, and now a drink? Best. Friend. Ever.”
He beams. “And don’t you forget it.”
Austin has his hair styled away from his forehead, which makes his freckles more prominent, but I won’t tell him that since I know he’s not fond of them. He has on a different shirt than on our last date, and I notice the pulse point at his neck, which tells me how nervous he is.
“I like the heart,” I say, pointing to the cup.
“Didn’t, I…I mean…I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I’m hurt,” I tease. “You don’t love me?”
“Ugh, you suck.” He stares at his shoes. “You know I do.”
“Aw, thanks. I love you too.”
Our eyes meet and hold for one awkward second.
Austin breaks the tension by throwing out a ridiculous fact. “Did you know those coffee sleeves are called zarfs?”
“Excuse me? Did you just pass gas?”
He belts out a laugh, and it’s contagious.
Austin follows me out the door as we create ridiculous sentences with the new word.
“You just cut the zarf.”
“Oh, zarf off.”
So far, our second fake date is off to a good start.
18
AUSTIN
We order a rideshare, and soon enough, we’re getting out at the curb near Love Shack. Which is just as well because Dex’s thigh against mine in the back seat is warm, and he smells so good that I almost want to stay put and beg off. But that’s just my nerves getting the best of me.
We join the back of the long line with Jason and a few others from the LGBTQ+ club. We make small talk as we wait, but I’m distracted by the other attendees, most of whom look fit and trim and ready for a night of partying in what could only be described as their club clothes—leather harnesses, tight pants, and cropped shirts showing off muscled physiques.
I suddenly feel ridiculous thinking I look decent enough to enter a trendy club. Dex doesn’t own any club clothes either, but he exudes the confidence and sexiness I’m sorely lacking.