Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
“All right. Whatever you say.”
“God, you’re already a dream boyfriend,” he commented in a swoony tone, batting his eyelashes. “Are you going to kiss me goodnight too?”
I barked a quick laugh and started down the steps. But halfway to the bottom, I turned back and met him at the door. Mitch cocked his head curiously, but he didn’t flinch when I held his chin and kissed him. It was supposed to be lighthearted. Almost a joke. But when I pulled back, we stared at each other and smiled and…I had to do it again. The right way. I leaned in and hovered my lips over his and then licked the seam. He let me immediately. He hummed appreciatively, wrapping his arms around my neck and raking his fingers through my hair. I glided my tongue alongside his in a sweet, slow exploration that made me weak in the knees. I didn’t pull back until we were breathless and in danger of heading someplace we couldn’t easily navigate back from. I pulled away and then stepped aside.
“See ya,” I said huskily before heading down the stairs and out the gate.
I hurried to my SUV, jumped inside, turned on the engine, and sped down the block. I came to a screeching halt at the stop sign at the end of the residential street. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I felt oddly energized yet freaked out at the same time.
I knew why. I’d been here before, and I told myself I’d never do this again. And I’d been doing just fine until Mitch came along. I loosened my hold on the wheel and ran my finger over my bottom lip.
Fuck, I wanted him.
I wasn’t mildly curious. I was consumed. I burned with a feverish intensity I’d never felt off a football field. Everything in me wanted to turn around now and tell him the truth. Explain who I was, what I wanted, and why I was so fucking afraid. Selling myself as a good guy who was willing to help a friend of a friend was dishonest. But the truth…that shit was scary. I’d been through hell and back five years ago because of my so-called truth. I had physical and mental scars, broken dreams, and a host of issues I never talked about anymore.
And if I did this project with Mitch and jumped into cyberland, pretending to be his boyfriend, I’d reveal myself. My friends, family, and teammates might not believe the boyfriend story, but they’d wonder what I was thinking. Eventually, the truth would come out. Was I ready for this?
I glanced into my rearview mirror when a car pulled up behind me. I nodded to myself and then shook my head ruefully. Fuck, no. But I wasn’t backing down or bowing out. Not this time.
4
There was something surreal about launching into a mystery adventure I couldn’t share with anyone. School and football kept me pretty busy over the next week, but I found myself thinking about Mitch constantly. Not the questions he’d ask or how this might play out over the next month or so. I thought about him. The way he walked and talked and the way his eyes sparked mischievously when he smiled. And yeah, I thought about kissing him. A lot.
When my head wouldn’t stop spinning, I gave in and called him. At first, he gave me a hard time for not texting instead, but when I made up a story about my fingers cramping and possibly messing with my masturbation game, he laughed heartily. We talked every night after our respective classes, practices, or games. Sometimes he ran through some of his questions. It was a good way to ease into conversation.
“Coffee or tea?”
“Coffee.”
“How do you take your coffee? It’s not one of the official questions, but it’s something a boyfriend would know,” he explained.
“Black. How about you?”
“Same. Okay. Next…eggs or oatmeal? Donuts or cake? Corn or peas?”
“Eggs, both and corn. Peas are disgusting.”
“You can’t have both cake and donuts,” Mitch huffed. “You have to choose.”
“But it’s true. If I had a slice of chocolate cake and a glazed donut in front of me, I’d put ’em both on my plate.”
“And which would you eat first?”
“Whichever was closer.” I grinned when he laughed aloud. Then I asked, “What about you?”
“Oatmeal, cake, and corn. Peas are nasty.”
“The worst. My mom had a veggie rule when I was a kid. No dessert until all the vegetables on our plates were gone. I tried everything, man. I fed green beans to the dog, hid carrots under the throw rug when she wasn’t looking. I even stuffed brussels sprouts in my pockets once. Nothing gets by my mom, though. The dog barfed up the beans, Dad stepped on the carrots, and let’s just say she wasn’t too happy about the mushy sprouts in her laundry.”