Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jonathan
I spent most of the next day unpacking and organizing. Danny was out. He said he was going to play soccer in Piedmont Park with some friends, and he invited me, but I turned him down. I already felt like a pity friend to him. So I finished up in my room, put on basketball shorts and a tee, and looked up a nearby gym to join. I went down, took care of paperwork, had a good workout, then made my way back to the apartment. Danny still wasn’t there. I showered, changed, then sat at the bar, trying to figure out what I wanted to do.
Before my life turned upside down, when I was still back home, I would have called up one of my buddies to hang out or I would have spent time with Nolan or Brad. I hadn’t talked to either of them since a day or so after I stopped working with them.
I couldn’t believe I’d sat on the bed, looking at photos of naked men with Danny the night before. That was so out of my wheelhouse, it wasn’t even funny. But God, maybe that was good because in that moment, I simply was.
I’d also spent quite a bit of time jerking off afterward.
I picked up my phone and considered logging on to Grindr. Danny said I could have guys over…but I could also go to them. Maybe that was what I needed to do—fuck around more than I’d ever allowed myself to and just have some goddamned fun.
What I ended up doing was setting my cell down, picking up the pen, and doodling in the notepad Danny had on his bar.
I started with the apartment building, then some of the ones nearby. I winged it because I didn’t have a photographic memory, but before I knew it, I was looking down at my very own drawing of the neighborhood and…holy fuck, it had been a long time since I sketched. I used to love it. I was always doodling or drawing, and I’d get shit for daydreaming in class. Guys at school would give me shit too, and then I’d punch them in the face in the hallways. Dad never got mad at me for fighting, especially after the treehouse incident.
My gaze scanned over the paper in front of me. It was shit, really. I was so out of practice, all I could see were the imperfections, and then I wondered why I cared, because what the fuck did it matter if I could draw or not?
I ripped the page out of the notebook, balled it up, and tossed it in the trash can. My phone was still right beside me, so I called Will.
We decided to meet up for an early dinner at this Mexican place he and Jameson loved. The food was good, and it was nice to get out of the apartment and hang out with him some more, but when he asked, “Wanna come to our place for a bit?” I shook my head.
“Nah. I have my first day of work tomorrow. I should make sure I’m ready for that.”
Will and I said our goodbyes, and I headed back to the apartment. The restaurant had been close enough for me to walk. I was already seeing why Will mostly walked, took a car service, or MARTA. It was too hectic to drive around the city all the time.
Danny still wasn’t home when I got there…not that it mattered. I didn’t know why I kept thinking that every time I got home.
I watched some TV, showered, and then went into my room early. I watched Gold Rush on my phone—I loved that shit—then tried to go to sleep. I tossed and turned, but was finally almost out when I heard a noise in the hallway.
Two low, mumbled voices. Danny’s door opening and closing…then nothing for a while, outside of a chuckle, groan, or words I couldn’t make out until…
Thump, thump, thump.
And yep, my dick started to get hard.
“Shit. Shh.”
That I was able to make out, Danny trying to be quiet, but it didn’t last long. He must have pulled the bed away from the wall, but there was no mistaking the bed creaking going on over there, and holy fuck, why were the walls so thin?
My dick was definitely at attention when I heard a male voice I didn’t recognize shout, “Harder…fuck yes.”
Christ, I really hoped this didn’t make me a creepy motherfucker, but I couldn’t help it. I shoved my underwear down, fumbled my lube out of the nightstand, slicked up, and used one hand to stroke myself as the other slid behind my balls. I spread my legs, stroked my cock, circled my rim, as the guy begged Danny for it harder. He kept stopping and mumbling something, probably asking the guy to lower his voice, but all I could do was see Danny’s brown skin, wondering what he looked like naked, what position they were in, how it would feel to… I pushed a finger inside myself.