Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
I nodded.
I didn’t tell him that my first article had actually been in sixth grade, for my middle school’s little student paper. But it was the truth, nonetheless.
“Let’s get you some food at the diner. You can sit across from me and get more worked up about how badly you want to fuck me.”
He glared daggers at me. “I think I hate you.”
God, he was hot when he tried to intimidate me.
You’re a big, muscular football player, Peachel, but I could take you to the fucking ground the moment I wanted to.
And I kind of fucking want to.
“Come on,” I told him in a calm tone. “You can’t have my cock either, but if you’re good, maybe I’ll let you suck the tip a little, afterward. There’s probably some precum there for you. From when I denied you.”
I crossed the road toward the glowing windows of Red Fox Diner, half expecting him not to follow.
CHAPTER 3
ANDREW
I had dinner with the enemy.
Breakfast for dinner, actually, because I was ravenous and irritated and a little too drunk to care.
I ordered pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, and one order of French fries for good measure. The diner was packed, mostly with teenagers needing a late-night place to hang.
I slathered syrup over most of the plates, digging in like I hadn’t eaten in weeks.
Fuck, I really hadn’t eaten much today at all. I had my normal shake this morning, but that was… hours and hours ago, now.
Gray ordered only a coffee, because apparently he was one of those stupid people who loaded up on caffeine when it was practically midnight.
“Tell me about your week,” Gray said.
“I know you’re just trying to get details out of me,” I said, stabbing my fork into my stack of fluffy pancakes. “You’re not going to get it.”
“You’re afraid to talk about what you did this week?” he asked. “Weird.”
I sat up straight. “I have nothing to hide, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”
He leaned back. “I’m not insinuating anything. Do you have something to hide?”
I shoved the forkful of pancakes into my mouth, my anger rising again.
He wasn’t smiling, but I swore I could see playful amusement in his eyes, like he was pulling my strings and trying to make me his puppet.
“On Monday, I went to class and the gym. On Tuesday, I went to different classes, and the gym again. Wednesday, practice, and class.”
“Exciting.”
“You asked. That’s what I do.”
Gray ran a hand through his dark hair. He broke off from my gaze, looking around the diner like he was scanning the place.
What was he looking for?
What was he thinking about?
I saw his eyes land on different groups of people, lingering for a minute on a guy who was wearing a nice suit.
Was Gray staring at his watch?
“Went to my little cousin’s flag football practice on Thursday,” I continued.
“Your cousin?”
I nodded. “He’s eleven. I volunteer to run a flag football club at his middle school. Teach the kids some fundamentals, make sure none of them get hurt.”
“What a big heart you have,” Gray said. “Helping out the kids, volunteering your time.”
I shrugged. “Just telling you the truth.”
“Do you enjoy doing that?”
Prick.
Of course I enjoy doing it.
“Football was the only thing I was good at when I was a kid,” I explained. “I like the idea of helping kids find whatever they’re good at. There’s a kid on the team who absolutely sucks at running, so he doesn’t do well in the games. He cried a little bit on Thursday because another kid made fun of him. I talked to him a little, found out he’s good at building model cities. He has an amazing strength, there.”
“That’s sweet,” Gray said, and for once it seemed like he actually meant it. “Do you want kids of your own one day?”
“Damn. Personal questions like that, already? We’re not even done with our first date.”
“Our first date was two hours ago, when I watched you lose your football game because you were too obsessed with me,” Gray said, a flicker going through his eyes. “This is our second date.”
“You’re so fucking annoying.”
“You’re so easy to read,” he murmured.
I put an arm onto the leather booth behind me. “Then read me. Do I want kids? What do you think?”
He looked me over, pausing for a second. “I think you do. You want a nice, perfect little family with two kids and a happy dog. White picket fence life.”
I took another bite of my pancakes. “I do want a family, sometime in the future. I want to be a pro football player, do well, make my family proud. I want to have a husband and be a good public example of a gay pro football player.”
Gray’s eyes narrowed. “You care a lot about your image.”
“Image matters.”
“And you like keeping yours so perfect, and squeaky-clean.”
I set my jaw.