Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
My lips twitch, along with another part of my anatomy. “Actually, that sounds like a better idea.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“The look on your face said it for you.”
“There is no way I could come again because I need food first, but I can totally take care of you.” Whit steps toward me.
My stomach rumbles. “I might need something to eat first too.”
“I guess we wouldn’t want your coffee going cold.”
“Coffee is coffee no matter the temperature.”
He doesn’t get out of my way as I move closer. Instead, he wraps his arm around my back and pulls me to him. His lips are soft as they touch mine.
“Good morning.” Whit’s deep rumble makes me want to pull him back to bed and take him up on his offer.
But no. Food first. We sit at the table. He passes me my coffee and then pulls a bagel and a breakfast sandwich from the bag. “Which one do you want?”
“Which one do you want? You went and bought it, so you choose.”
“I like both, but I got the sandwich you like.”
I take the sandwich with a smile. He knows what I like.
I like sharing my space with Whit.
Then again, I’m liking a lot of things I’ve never experienced before.
And this breakfast thing. That’s good too.
“So, uh, last night was fun,” Whit says.
“A lot of fun,” I agree.
“I’m ticking off a lot of my virgin boxes.”
It’s really hard not to make a joke right now, so I sip my coffee.
Whit’s tone shifts. “How are you handling it?”
Nope, can’t hold it back anymore. “Your virgin box? You want me to handle your virgin box?”
“So funny. I guess …” He starts to look uncomfortable. “I guess I’m asking if you’re freaking out yet, or if you want more. Or less. Or if you want me to shut up in general.”
The poor guy looks like he’s holding his breath.
I reach over and take his hand. “I’m not freaking out. I don’t think, anyway. I’m having fun. Lots of fun. I want more, but not … more.”
Whit frowns. “What does that mean?”
“I like what we’re doing, and I know you’re in some rush to go all the way, but … I’m not there yet. I don’t think I will be until I … figure some things out.”
He looks a little disappointed, but he doesn’t fight me on it. “Sorry. One night at a time. That’s what I promised.”
I squeeze his hand and then go back to my food.
When we’re finished, Whit stands. The panicky part of my brain thinks he’s getting ready to leave, but then he walks over to the couch and takes his usual spot.
“You totally got out of watching Youngblood last week, so we’re watching it today.”
“Fine. Though, I do have to say what we did last week was a way better idea than a stupid hockey movie.”
Whit mock gasps. “Stupid and hockey do not belong in the same sentence. You should know that by now.”
I roll my eyes and down the rest of my drink. “Get the movie started. I’m going to hit the head and brush my teeth.”
After finishing my business, I find Whit lying on the couch. “That’s how it’s going to be, is it?”
“You snooze, you lose. But I will let you be my pillow.” He lifts his head for me to slide in beneath him.
“Wow, you’re so generous.” I glance at the screen which is still on the opening credits of the movie. “I told you to start it. I have seen the movie before. It’s not like I’ll miss anything.”
Whit settles his head in my lap. “No. You need the full experience for my evil plan to work.”
“It’s cute you think it’s working at all.”
“Hey, I’ve gotten you back on the ice and got you to come to an actual game. My plan is ahead of schedule.”
I run my hand through his hair. “Whit, that has nothing to do with the movies we watch and everything to do with you.”
His eyes meet mine, and I lean down to kiss him, but when he arches up, all he gives me is a peck.
“I told you. You’re not getting out of this one. Pay attention.”
And I do. Just, not to the TV. My hand continuously plays with his hair while I watch him. He gets excited during a few scenes, which is adorable, and without a doubt, he’s way more interesting to me than the movie.
Sitting here like this with Whit, our whole situation seems simple. We’re two guys who like each other.
I like him a lot. Why is it so hard to put into actual words? Why can’t I tell him that this could have the potential to be so much more?
I focus on the way he smiles, anticipating a funny moment in the movie and the way his lips move along with the dialog. I think about how he approaches so many things in life this same way—anticipating the good stuff that might happen.