Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
14
LIAM ROSE
Work was a welcome relief. It meant that I had something to focus my brain on rather than spend another day staring at the wall while reliving every second of my talk with Rome on Saturday.
Things…things felt different.
Not how I’d expected at all.
None of this was working out how I’d expected.
I’d thought I would be miserable every moment I was forced to be in Rome’s presence. It was supposed to be a living hell of hate, anger, and frustration.
Our first date had gotten off to a rough start, but everything had sort of unwound because I’d forgotten all the reasons that I was supposed to be hating him, and we’d fallen into our old routine of playing stupid games, eating junk food, and talking trash. It was as if we’d picked up where we’d left off.
As if we’d skipped that stupid kiss entirely and continued to be friends.
Except that kiss had happened, and I still didn’t know why. I didn’t know what had happened to him after that day. Did he have trouble in school? Did his parents put him on perpetual lockdown, doubting his every word for the rest of his life?
Why?
Why had he kissed me?
And did he want to kiss me now?
Fuck. Did I want to kiss him back?
My brain immediately skittered away from that dangerous question and went to cower in the corner like the giant ’fraidy cat I was.
But I couldn’t hide. For the first time in so fucking long, it felt like I was standing on this important, life-changing precipice. Bigger than the time I’d proposed to Fiona. Bigger than deciding where to go to college and what to major in.
Right now, if I were smart, there was a chance that I could have Rome Ashbridge as my friend again. Maybe we could never return to being best friends, but we could be friends. We could hang out on weekends and crack jokes. I’d even welcome his shitty dino jokes without too much bitching.
However, to get Rome as my friend, I knew we had to talk about that day. We’d gone on three dates and steered clear of the topic. I could feel the invisible tension that surrounded it like an electric fence buzzing a soft warning. If either of us got too close, we were going to have the shit shocked out of us.
It was only a matter of time. Somehow, the topic would sneak in, forcing us to talk about it. We needed to face it, preferably as calm, rational adults. Not something we were known for.
Yet, if we could do it on our terms when we were relaxed and comfortable, maybe we could talk about it without destroying the fragile bridge we’d built.
That was why work was a good thing right now.
Work would stop my brain from thinking about Rome because I needed to focus on the research paper I’d promised a peer I would review. There was a stack of fossils that needed cleaning and freeing from rock. Some other reports were rolling in regarding a possible dig site for next spring. Work. Work. Work. It would save my poor brain before it was too late.
Oh, but I was so fucking wrong because I had two different distractions waiting to pounce on me as soon as I stepped into the lab.
First was Emily.
At a glance, I could see that she was already way too awake, perky, and ready to pepper me with questions. This was my doing. I was the insane person who’d confided in her about Rome’s stupid arrangement and the so-called dates we were going on. The woman was tracking my progress like the talented scientist she was.
In other words, she was keeping a logbook of details about where we went, what we wore, what we ate, and so much more. I was beginning to believe she was more anthropologist than paleontologist.
“Sooooooo,” she drawled out the moment the door closed behind me.
“Emily, there’s not enough coffee in the world for you wearing that smile on a Monday,” I grumbled as I dropped onto the wheelie stool behind the computer. I jiggled the mouse to wake it from its weekend sleep and typed in my password.
“Don’t be like that. You’re going on your first gay dates. That’s exciting.”
“I’m not gay, Em,” I replied in an even tone. A month ago, those words might have shaken me to my core. Now, when Emily teased, there was barely even a ripple on the pond. Was this how she wore me down?
“You’re going out on dates with a gay man.”
“He’s pansexual.”
Silence.
I could feel her judgy eyes burrowing into the back of my head. The second I could no longer take it, a sigh slipped from my lips, and I spun to face her. Ignoring her prodding wouldn’t work. Besides, she was not only my one friend; she was also homosexual, which gave her insight into things I was trying to understand. Right now, talking to her felt slightly less painful than attempting to talk to Rome.