Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
I met Ben at the flower shop. My mother hired him when he was sixteen for after school and weekend help. I immediately liked him. He was not only friendly but very good-looking. He screamed surfer dude with a great all-teeth smile, sandy-blond hair that swept across his forehead, and a thin muscular frame. I developed a crush on him quickly after getting to know him, but he broke my heart shortly after when he introduced me to his boyfriend at the time. It's funny now, but back then my world fell apart when I found out he was gay. Trying to mend my broken heart, he told me, “If I liked girls, you would be the one I would sweep off her feet and make mine.”
Most people probably think a gay man would only be good at doing flower arrangements, but that is not true. Our shop occasionally does landscaping. It's back-breaking work, digging and hauling endless wheelbarrow loads of dirt, mulch, and gravel in one-hundred-degree heat all day. It takes a lot of stamina and Ben can do it all day long for days straight, and yes, he is awesome at flower arrangements too. Ben is a great friend, he has always spoke up and fought for me in those times I could not do it for myself. I remember during my sophomore year of high school, the counselor and psychologist were pressuring my mom to move me ahead to the eleventh grade, telling her I was being academically stunted. When Ben had found me crying in the backroom of the shop, I told him I didn’t want to start over with all new classes and new people again. Hugging me, he said, “Don't worry, kiddo, I'll take care of it. You aren’t doing anything you don't want to. Besides, I think it’s a really bad idea.” Later, I overheard him talking to my mom, “She may be ahead academically but socially she is not. She has never been around kids her own age. Moving her ahead again is going to make her social abilities worse.” Thanks to Ben, I got to stay a sophomore.
Entering the diner, I spot Jena and Ben in the back booth. Ben’s sandy-blond hair swept across his forehead, like usual, and his flawless diamond-shaped face from the nightly skin routine, which he never shuts up about, is not one to miss. Jenna looks like a model, as usual. Her long, blond wavy hair falling to her shoulders, her breasts peeking from a green blouse. She was always the prettier one out of the two of us. Reaching the booth, I give Jenna a peck on the cheek before sliding in next to Ben and patting his knee.
“You guys order yet?” I ask before noticing the three soft drinks sitting on the table. The smell of fry grease making my stomach growl.
“Yes, and I went ahead and ordered for you too, fish sandwich and a Diet Coke,” Ben informs, pointing to the diet soda sitting in the middle of the table.
“You know me so well.” I grab the soda, taking a sip.
“So, Ben says you got a new place, tell us all about it.” Jenna’s blue eyes are curious as she hops up and down in her seat.
“No, tell us about the hot biker,” Ben says.
“What hot biker?” Jenna asks, her eyebrows quirked upward.
“The hot brooding biker C saw at the condo,” he answers, looking at her cockeyed; brows raised in triumph from feeling like he knows something Jenna doesn’t.
“Yes, do tell,” Jenna prods, turning to stare at me.
“Well, he pulled up on a really nice motorcycle,” I say, just as a waitress I’ve never seen before arrives carrying a large tray with several plates of food on it. She must be new. Handing each of us our entrees, she politely asks if we need anything else. We all answer back no before thanking her. Before turning to leave she looks over to Ben, giving him the sweetest smile. She is clearly flirting with him, making me giggle under my breath. Ben nods and smiles back at her before glancing back over to me with a disapproving stare.
“Go on,” Jenna encourages, ignoring Ben's unspoken reprimand, not taking her eyes off me while taking a sip of her soda through her straw.
“It was like slow motion, nothing out of the ordinary at first, just some guy on a motorcycle pulling up and parking, but when he took off his helmet and ran his hands through his hair. His really gorgeous hair,” I emphasize. “He turned to look at me and Mrs. Ruth, and his eyes—that are blue like sapphires—locked on mine and I was hypnotized. He is tall and muscular, everything in proportion. Not like those bodybuilder-types you see. You know the ones who have so much muscle they look ridiculous ’cause either their arms are bigger than their legs, or they have too much muscle for their height, making them look uncomfortable,” I explain. “This guy was picture perfect, like a sculptor had carved him out of precious marble. But then, like someone had clapped their hands breaking the trance, he looked away and started talking to Mrs. Ruth. I swear when he spoke the sound of his voice caused me to do an involuntary Kegel.