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)
“Leave it. I’ll help you,” I said.
I offered him my hand and pulled him against me, cupping his ass to hold him close before crashing my mouth over his. He tasted like me now. Like he was part of me. Or like he should be part of me.
We made out in a passionate tangle of tongues and roving hands that was sweet and sexy and promising. After a few minutes, I kissed his nose and cradled his chin to get a good look at him.
“That was fucking incredible.”
“Are you okay? You’re not gonna hate me in the morning, are you?” he asked.
“Not a chance.” I traced his jaw and smiled softly. “Who are we now? Do we have a new title or something?”
Mitch captured my hand and kissed my knuckles. “Nothing changes, silly. We’re still just friends.”
I wanted to argue that I didn’t fuck around with my friends, but he was right. One blowjob didn’t make a new relationship.
“Okay. I’ll follow your lead. I don’t know what to do or how to act. If I fuck up, tell me and I’ll—”
“Hey.” Mitch squeezed my hand as he held my gaze meaningfully. “You don’t have to do anything or act a certain way. Just be you. I’ll be me and we’ll see where we land.”
I nodded in agreement and then asked, “We’re not talking about this in the video, right?”
“Hell no! That’s…not real. It’s just a project.”
“Right. Well…” I bent to pull my jeans and briefs up, then leaned in to kiss him. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s going to be amazing.”
“Me too.”
Maybe the significance of what we’d done would hit me later. Maybe I’d feel altered somehow and different in my own skin. I couldn’t say, but I knew I wouldn’t change a thing.
5
In the following days, I was grateful that Mitch was a good texter. Mindless back and forth conversations about our classes and friends helped ease the awkwardness I feared would set in after our impromptu blowjob-against-the-door. But it wasn’t enough. I needed to see him and yeah, I wanted to touch him again. I didn’t want to wait a week to film a video I had zero interest in.
I thought about asking him out, but I didn’t know if that was overstepping an imaginary boundary. Even if it was okay, I didn’t know how to do it. A simple “Do you want to go to dinner?” seemed like a very hard question to ask. The problem was…doing nothing was driving me insane. After three days, I gave in and texted him before my second practice.
Hi. Do you want to
I pushed Send before I finished my sentence and stared at my screen in a panic. Now what?
Mitch immediately replied.
Do I want to…what?
The instant shortness of breath alarmed me. Oh no. I couldn’t think that fast. I had to call him.
“Hi.”
“Hi. What’s up, Ev? Are you—”
“What are you doing tonight?” I blurted, nodding at one of my teammates before stepping away from the door to the locker room.
“Um…laundry, homework. Oh yeah, and I have to go to Target.”
“Hmm. Busy guy. Want company? I should be home around seven. If you’re free or just doing laundry, maybe we could hang out.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, wincing at the flood of lameness spouting from my mouth. I sounded desperate and a tad obsessive. Not cool at all.
“Just hang out,” he repeated. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the other night or—”
“No! Well, yeah, but not in a creepy way.” I licked my lips nervously and paced a few yards away before continuing. “I’m not looking for a booty call. I just want…”
“What do you want, Evan?” he prodded gently.
“To be with you. That’s all.”
I held my breath and waited for his version of a gentle rejection. I couldn’t believe how nervous I felt. My hands were slick, and my knees felt rubbery. This couldn’t be good for me.
“Okay,” he said after what felt like ten minutes but was probably two seconds. “What time?”
“I can pick you up at seven,” I said in a rush.
“It’s a date.”
“Great. So, just to clarify…is this a Target date, or can I take you to dinner?”
“You want to take me to dinner?”
“Well, yeah. They have a concession stand there. We can grab pizza, slushies…”
Mitch’s laughter floated between us. The joyful sound chased the butterflies in my stomach away and left me feeling calm…and happy.
“We can play it by ear, big spender. I’ll see you tonight.”
A few hours later, I was in a mini version of hell. Not that I had a thing against Target or any place where you could simultaneously buy bananas and bicycles. But it was busier than I anticipated, and following the guy I had a crush on down congested aisles stacked high with consumer goods was frustrating. I stared at his ass as I pushed the cart a few paces behind him. He looked hot tonight, I mused. His snug designer jeans hugged his ass in all the right places and went well with his unicorn “Sounds gay, count me in” T-shirt. He’d fixed me with a challenging look as though daring me to comment when I’d picked him up. I’d wisely complimented him and asked for directions instead.