Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
He sipped from his steaming mug as Ange slid into the booth across from him.
“Hey, girl, how was your shift?”
“Ugh, don’t get me started. I don’t know why I decided I wanted to be a nurse. Who in their right mind volunteers for this?” Her light brown hair was cropped around her ears. A lock fell forward when she propped her head in her hand and closed her eyes.
“People with great big hearts.” He pushed his mug toward her. “Have some caffeine, it will help.”
She took a great gulp. “Yeah, that’s the stuff.” She opened her eyes with a sigh. “So, dish? What’s new in the world of divas and glitter?”
He opened the menu, an unnecessary action. He’d memorized every item six months after moving into the apartment. And he always ordered the same thing, which Ange knew too.
“Whoa, avoidance. Now you have to spill.”
“Nothing new, same shit different day. Castor’s being a pig, Tam created another work of art, Z is cranky as hell, and Lirim is still floating on rainbows.”
“Right, and where’s this bridge you’d like to sell me? Seriously, I know when you’re hiding something. I’m not going to let you get away with it. Please, please, please, take me away from bedpans, barf and genital herpes.”
“Ew, nasty.”
“You’re telling me.”
The waitress, a plump older woman, arrived. “What can I get you two today? No, wait, let me guess. You’ll have the six stack with whipped cream and maple syrup, a side of home fries, and three sausage links.”
He smiled at her. “You’re good.”
She winked and turned to Ange. “And you, my dear, will have coffee, orange juice, three blueberry pancakes and a fruit salad.”
“One day I swear I’ll order something different.”
The waitress chuckled. “Ain’t nothing wrong with knowing what you like.”
“Hear, hear.” He lifted his half-empty mug in agreement.
When the waitress left, he took another sip of coffee, hoping Ange was too sleepy to remember the thread of their conversation. Unfortunately, he’d never been a lucky one. Before he’d even had time to swallow, she was right back to begging.
“It’s nothing. I just, sorta, met a guy and he gave me his number. It’s no big deal. Happens all the time.”
She sat back and squinted at him. “Yes, it does. So why didn’t you tell me right off the bat? He must be different.”
He suddenly found the folding and unfolding of his napkin fascinating.
Fitch was different.
He was the first person to make him dream of possibilities. He was normally a suck, fuck, and fly kind of guy. He didn’t do future. He didn’t do feelings. Not to mention the fucking cannonballs of tension that exploded in his stomach whenever the guy was near.
“Not really,” he said. But he’d never been able to lie convincingly to Ange. She always saw right through him.
“Confess everything or I will tell you about the man who came in today with an acute case of genital warts—in graphic detail. And I’m talking leaking pus and massive swollen tissue.”
He cringed. “Okay, okay, I surrender, just please stop being gross.”
Apparently satisfied, Ange crossed her arms under her breasts and smiled. He took a breath and told her the story. All about the dance, the kiss, his crazy overreaction, and how Fitch had shown up at the club. He tried to gloss over the effect Fitch had on him, but knew he was blushing. When he was done, he swallowed the rest of his coffee and went back to folding his napkin.
Ange sat forward and touched his hand. “You really like this guy.”
“Don’t be silly, I don’t even know him. He’s just a really good kisser.”
“Call him. Right now.”
“No.”
“I’m going to bug you until you call him.”
“You’ll have to wait ’cause here’s our food.”
“Okay, we’ll eat first, but then you’re going to call him.”
He sighed and started digging into his breakfast.
* * *
He’d managed to put Ange off, but only because she was so tired she’d almost fallen asleep on her pancakes. She’d made him promise to call Fitch. It had been over an hour since their meal and he still hadn’t worked up the nerve. He sat on his favorite rock in Central Park overlooking the pond and watched the ducks swimming in the water. It was warm, a perfect spring afternoon, and if he weren’t feeling so anxious, he’d have soaked up the sun with glee. But as it was, the knots in his stomach were making it hard to breathe, and his palms were almost as wet as the water he was staring at.
If Ray were alive, he’d laugh his ass off over this. There were things to fear, like bombs, serial-killers, and starvation. Then there were things to embrace, like warmth, food, and friendship. Ray would classify calling someone you were attracted to in the latter category. Any other situation and Ansel would have too.