Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“That wasn’t what you wanted?”
“If I’d had my way, I probably would’ve majored in music, so no.”
“Really…”
“Yeah. I was in a band when I was younger, much to my father’s chagrin.”
“What did you play?”
“Bass.”
“Do you still play?”
“I dabble in it when I’m alone. But nothing on the regular.” He stared down at his hands. “I envy you for pursuing what you love.”
“But let’s face it,” I admitted. “Majoring in art is not the wisest career choice.”
“Knowing that didn’t stop you, though. That says a lot about you. You’re willing to take a risk for the chance to do something you love.” He looked into my eyes. “I think on some level, you know you have true skills, which makes it easier to take that risk. You must realize you’re truly talented.”
My face felt flushed. “I assumed you thought my monkeys were ridiculous.”
“They are on the surface. But they’re realistic as hell. And original. The more I think about it, the more impressed I am.” He shrugged. “And I’m jealous that you’re doing something you love.”
“Well, thank you,” I said, filling with pride. “Even if music isn’t your career, can’t you get back into it as a hobby?”
“I’m a little too busy right now for hobbies. Talk to me in thirty years.”
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Twenty-eight.” He arched a brow. “How old are you?”
“How old do you think I am?”
“Well, given that you’re in college, I want to say…nineteen?”
My mouth dropped open. “Do I look nineteen?”
“Yes.” He smirked.
I couldn’t tell if he was serious. “I’m twenty-three, actually. Got a bit of a late start on the college front.”
“Where are you from originally?”
“Cincinnati.”
He nodded. “Are you hungry?” he asked after a moment.
“I could eat.”
“Up for a midnight snack?”
“Always.” I grinned.
Dorian stood, and I grabbed the popcorn bowl, following him out of the theater. On the way up the stairs, I couldn’t help noticing how nicely his dark jeans hugged his ass. Attractive from every angle, apparently.
Once upstairs, Dorian looked around the large, all-white kitchen. “I haven’t eaten here since I moved back. I have no idea what we have or where anything is.”
“I’m due to go grocery shopping,” I said. “So I don’t have much to offer you from my personal stash besides Diet Coke.”
We rummaged through the pantry, which contained several cans of the same exact item.
I reached for one and laughed. “Enough caviar?”
“My dad’s favorite. Imported, made from sturgeon originating in the Caspian Sea. He always said it’s the best.”
“I’ve never eaten caviar,” I said, scrunching my nose. “Not sure I’d like it.”
“Well, no one else is gonna eat this.” He took the can from me. “You wanna try it?”
“How do you eat it?”
“Usually crackers, but I don’t see that we have any.” He grabbed a bag of something in the corner. “Hot Cheetos?”
“Hot Cheetos and caviar?” I shrugged. “Why not?”
“I bet these were my dad’s, too. He loved spicy shit.” A look of sadness crossed his face as he stared down at the bag.
I interrupted his haze. “The reality hits in waves, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he murmured. Taking a deep breath, he forced a smile. “Let’s take these out to the table.”
Dorian and I sat at the breakfast nook in the corner of the kitchen that featured a window overlooking the ocean. It was dark out now, so we couldn’t see much. Through the glass, we could hear the waves crashing, though.
He opened a can of caviar and the bag of Cheetos. After dipping one of the cheese puffs into the caviar, he handed it to me across the table.
I took a bite and chewed for a while. “It’s salty. But in an obnoxious way.” Licking my lips, I added, “I feel like these two foods are a pretty accurate representation of the two of us. You’re caviar, by the way. And I’m the Cheetos.”
He took a bite. “I’m…overrated, obnoxious, and salty?”
“Basically.” I smiled.
“And you’re cheesy as all hell.” He winked.
“You were supposed to tell me I’m hot.”
His eyes seared into mine. “I don’t need to tell you that.”
My face felt hotter than the darn Cheetos now.
“Okay, hot’s the obvious one.” He lifted a Cheeto. “But from my observations, there are better reasons why you’re similar to this Cheeto.”
“Do tell.” I wiped the corner of my mouth.
“You’re bold. Moving across the country to follow your dreams and now having to face an uncertain future, yet with a smile on your face most of the time—that’s a very bold thing. To smile in the face of uncertainty and tragedy is probably one of the greatest skills anyone can hold in life.” He paused. “You also leave an impression. Just like these do.”
“Heartburn?”
He shook his head and chuckled. “No.”
“Well, thank you. I feel like I need to reciprocate—but I can’t exactly call you fishy.” I winked.
As we continued to munch and make easy conversation, I hoped this wouldn’t be the last late-night snack session I’d get to have with Dorian. I enjoyed his company.