Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 49178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
For many, that’d be a relaxing soundtrack—but for me, it was slightly unnerving.
Birds scared the ever-living tits off me.
“I do know that. Thank y’all. I’d say something if it’d really bother me, but I’m over it. It was dumb teenage drama that I barely ever think about. I’ve had worse hangovers that’ve affected me more than Sam has.”
Alright, so maybe that part wasn’t exactly true, but somehow, I managed to slip it past my siblings’ “lying his balls off” radar.
Boone cocked his head to the side. “What ever happened between you two, anyway?” His beard was growing in, his smile worn a little more easily than ever before. It was nice to see the change in him after Wylie entered his life—like he’d been a plant surviving on the bare minimum amount of water, when suddenly a weeks-long rainstorm quenched his thirst and made him bloom.
Yeah. Had to have been a nice feeling.
I stood up from my seat, and collected the empty plates at the table. “Like I said, we were dumb boys. I was just coming to terms with my sexuality, and he was cementing his. One night we realized our friendship wasn’t really working and decided to stop talking. He was leaving for college anyway, so it was easy.”
If I were making a dish with this conversation, the ingredients would have been: two ounces of lies, three tablespoons of oversimplification, and an entire cup of Catholic guilt. Garnish with a dash of regret and make sure to spice to your liking.
Boone offered me a “hmm” but didn’t dig any further. I was scared Beau would use his twin senses and pick up where Boone left off, but was saved by a honk from out front.
“Ah shit, that must be Pris and Sky. They had supplies they needed to deliver. You two want to help me unload it?” Billie asked, glancing at my brothers while I busied myself with washing the dishes.
“Let’s get ’er done,” Boone said with a clap of his hands.
“Yeah. Benny, you good in here?” Beau asked.
“I’m good. I’ll clean up. Go feed the horses, maybe go for a ride into town.”
Beau gave me a brotherly elbow nudge as he walked past, following his twin into the hall. Billie leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed, big sister mode activated. “I’m being honest. If this Sam thing makes you the slightest bit uncomfortable, you tell me, okay? I’ll get it sorted.”
“Thanks, Billlie,” I said. “But I think it’ll be fine.”
She rapped a knuckle on the pale wood doorframe and disappeared, shouting after my brothers about being careful with the vase. I finished cleaning up the kitchen, the warm and soapy water on my hands a welcome, grounding sensation. I wasn’t sure what it was about cleaning that really spoke to me, but I always enjoyed doing it. Sometimes I wondered if things would be different if were obsessed with, say, playing the stock market or coding apps that would make me millions instead of spending entire mornings making countertops shine. But hey, I had to play the cards I’d been dealt.
My phone buzzed as I finished wiping down the sink, the scent of lemon and mint strong in the air. It was a message from my date. We still hadn’t taken our chats off the app, so I battled with three different glitches before I could actually read his message.
VisitingTop8: I’m excited for later.
He had sent a picture with his message. In it, he stood in front of a foggy bathroom mirror. The area around his crotch had been wiped clear, framing the massive cock jutting out between his thighs.
Cornfedbeef: Goddamn that’s a weapon of ASS destruction.
Hmm. That probably wasn’t what he was looking for. My sense of humor was sometimes a little too much—and admittedly a little basic—but I didn’t hide that from anyone, even hung and handsome men who could potentially become my boyfriend.
Cornfedbeef: Can’t wait to play with it later.
There. That was a little better.
Fuck, why was I so bad at this?
VisitingTop8—or Carlos, the name he gave me when I asked—read my message but didn’t reply. Probably busy getting ready. Or maybe he got caught up in something else. I closed out of our message chain before reopening it seconds later.
Cornfedbeef: I can host by the way. Just let me know.
VisitingTop8: Ok, I will.
Well, he wasn’t exactly a man of many words, but at least he was a man of many inches. I scrolled back up to the picture he sent. Damn, it was going to be difficult waiting until later to meet with him.
I rushed through the rest of my morning routine, trying to ignore the semi that wouldn’t go down. I was just wrapping up when my phone buzzed again. I pulled it out, expecting an ad for a new pair of underwear—you buy one jockstrap online, and suddenly you’re inundated with sexy men in colorful and heavily-discounted jocks—and instead saw a notification from Grindr.