Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
“Ooh…clandestine. Another big word,” he teased.
“Fuck off.” I let out an amused half laugh before taking a swig of water.
“Okay, but what if he was Chris Pine?”
I waggled my brows lasciviously. “Then I’d totally do him.”
We busted up laughing and segued into a semi-heated conversation about which Star Trek movie was best.
“Into the Darkness,” Christian insisted stubbornly.
“Okay, first of all, there’s no ‘the’ in the title. It’s just ‘Into Darkness.’ And since you didn’t know that, you forfeit your right to an opinion. Besides, the first one was the best. End of discussion, Chrissy.”
He gritted his teeth. “I hate it when you call me that.”
“You love it,” I countered.
“Right. Change the topic before I lunge across the table and kick your ass. Tell me about Tucson. Where did you run into him?”
“In front of Granding. Phoenix is a theater guy. I saw him dancing in the rain in a fairy costume…and why are you looking at me like that?”
“ ’Cause you’ve got this funny smile on your face. You like him.”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure, but like I said…he’s a theater guy, and he’s seeing someone else anyway.”
Christian frowned. “Why do you keep saying ‘theater guy’? Is that a big deal?”
“No. It just means he’s really gay.”
“Oh, I see. And you’re just sort of gay?” he asked sarcastically.
“No, I’m really gay too. Really, really gay. But he’s super gay. He had eyeliner and lip gloss on that night in LA. You know, I’ve never kissed a guy who wore lip gloss before. ChapStick, yes. Lip gloss, no.”
“And?”
“It was hot. He was hot.” I swallowed hard and looked away for a second when I was blindsided by a rogue memory of grinding against Phoenix in the dark to electronic dance music that was so loud, it sounded like a jungle beat. Sensual and erotic and—
“Dude, you need to get laid,” Christian deadpanned.
“You’re tellin’ me. I haven’t gone this long without sex since I was sixteen. And I’m a helluva lot hornier now than I was then. It’s fucking miserable,” I groused. “I’m jacking off like three times a day on average, Chrissy. My dick is gonna fall off before my season is over at this rate.”
Christian threw his head back and guffawed. “Poor Max.”
“I’m actually thinking about trying a hookup site. Desperate times call for desperate measures, you know?”
I waited for his gasp of dismay and a mini lecture warning me about the dangers of talking to strangers—let alone having sex with them. But he didn’t say a word. And when he finally did, I almost fell off my chair.
“Well, a lot of people use ’em. Maybe try a dating app first. Or better yet, I can ask Evan if he and Mitch have any single friends. Derek and Gabe might know someone too.”
“Stop,” I commanded, holding up my right hand. “I don’t want to date anyone, I just want sex.”
Christian wiped the corner of his mouth primly and looked around us before leaning in. “I understand. But if you go that route, I want to know which site you use.”
“Why? Are you Rory looking for a third?” I joked. I winced a second later when he kicked my shin…hard.
“No, dumbass. I want to know how to track your murderer if I come home to a crime scene.”
“Is that a graphic way of telling me you still care about me?” I singsonged.
“You know I do. Hey, I know I’m not home much, but you can always call me to hang out. You don’t have to be alone…unless you want to be.”
“Thanks. I’m busy with baseball. It’s all good.” I gestured at his half-eaten french fries. “You gonna eat those?”
Christian pushed the container in front of me, then pulled out his phone to check his messages. “I gotta get going. I have class in ten minutes. When is your next home game?”
“Saturday at two.”
“Cool. We’ll be there.”
I frowned. “Aren’t you coming by the apartment to at least get a change of clothes so I can whip your ass at Call of Duty?”
“Yeah, but probably while you’re at practice. I don’t want to get stuck in traffic on my way to Rory’s. You’re welcome to come to his place for dinner. He always makes too much and—”
“No, thanks. I’m gonna swing by the store for frozen pizza and a jumbo-sized bottle of lube.”
“Just don’t get carpal tunnel in your throwing hand,” Christian advised with a laugh as he stood. “Thanks for lunch. I’ll buy next time. I think it’s totally cute that you wanted to meet here on the off chance you’d run into your crush.”
“Fuck off,” I huffed without heat.
“By the way, I passed the theater on my way out of statistics and saw the sign for A Midsummer Night’s Dream. They have performances all this week. The last one is Friday…in case you’re interested.”