Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“And what does any of that A, B, C scenario have to do with Eli?”
“He’s a guy looking for a signal from someone he’s attracted to, Captain Oblivious. That’s you, by the way. Eli likes you, but doesn’t know how to read you. Or maybe he doesn’t know how to behave with a scenario-C gentleman such as yourself. That’s where I come in.”
“This is preposterous, but you might as well keep going.” I flopped onto the sofa, letting the weight of the day pull me into the too-soft cushions.
Gus perched on the opposite side and faced me. “You want him to call you, set up a dinner date in advance, buy you flowers—”
“I don’t need flowers.”
“No, but you want ’em. Admit it. Nothing over the top. No roses for you. I bet you like sunflowers.”
“I—yes, I do.”
“Knew it.” He flashed a wicked smile, tossing the pillow back at me. “See where I’m going with this? I’ll coach you and help you read his signals.”
“Coach me? Wow…that’s truly convoluted yet shockingly thoughtful. Thank you for thinking of me.”
“No problem.”
“However, you forgot that he’s interested in you too, and—”
“Not anymore. I told him I’m seeing someone.”
I frowned. “Are you?”
“No, but you like him and I respect that. And let’s be real. The only reason I’m on Eli’s radar is because he knows I fit in the A-to-B scenario. No dinner or flowers required,” he replied matter-of-factly. “We could go straight to pound town.”
“God, you’re disgusting.”
Gus’s grin widened to epic proportions. “Attraction is easy. Sex is easy. Our buddy Eli doesn’t want to hold my pinky, but my dick is—”
“Stop.” I launched across the sofa and flattened the throw pillow over his face.
He batted me away like a fly, laughing. “All right, all right. You get the point.”
“I do. However, I’m not desperate, and I’m not so hung up on Eli that I need outside help to bend him to my will. If it’s not meant to be, that’s okay.”
I meant every word. Gus’s earnest apology and odd take on mending fences was sweet but totally unnecessary.
“Maybe it is meant to be. The finger action is a clue to—”
“I told you not to say that. It’s nasty.”
He made a lewd gesture with two fingers, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “He likes you, Rafe. Go get him. That’s all.”
I narrowed my gaze. “You think so? Don’t answer. That’s too high school.”
“I do. I’m good at anal-o-gizing.” Yes, he emphasized anal.
“Analo-gizing,” I corrected automatically, raking a thumb along the cushion seam. I must have been in a more dire frame of mind than I’d thought, because suddenly Gus’s suggestion didn’t sound downright mortifying.
“So…are you gonna let me be your wingman?”
“I don’t need romantic assistance,” I hedged.
“You do. Pinky limbo isn’t sustainable, dude. There’s no guarantee anything will happen, but something might if you give it a chance. And…if you give me a chance to show you that I can be a better roommate, the next few months of living together might not be so bad,” he added with a boyish shrug.
The problem with Gus was that it was hard to stay mad at him when he turned on the charm.
So…I slowly nodded.
“That would be nice,” I admitted.
He beamed. “Good. Hey, don’t look so worried. This is gonna be great.”
I highly doubted it. But this was the first real conversation I’d had with Gus in months that didn’t involve me nagging about food, noise, and general mess. I’d try almost anything to string three months of relative harmony together. Even taking on a wingman.
Oh…
No, this was a bad idea.
CHAPTER 8
GUS
“Step one, ask Eli on a date.”
Rafe’s mouth formed a perfect O. “What? I can’t do that.”
“Of course you can.”
I hiked my workout bag on my shoulder, sliding my thumb around the strap as Rafe and I headed for the rink. I wanted to leave my stuff in my locker, and my roomie was going to take advantage of the free ice time to practice his moves. He’d said something about perfecting a complicated triple spin and the importance of keeping up his speed. Made sense to me.
I’d even convinced him to ride with me to campus so I could extend our powwow-slash-planning session. See, when we’d talked about our schedules over morning coffee and realized that my practice ended at the same time as Rafe’s final class of the day, it had made sense to drive together and maybe grab some groceries on our way home.
Bonus: It gave me an excuse to show up late to Vincento’s to meet with my friends later. By the time I joined them, they’d be a few pitchers in and no one would notice that I was more interested in pizza than beer. Smart thinking, huh?
Nine days in and I was doing okay. I felt better physically, but I’d be lying if I claimed that I didn’t want to get high every fucking morning or drink every fucking night. I craved it. Seriously craved it.