Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
The guests are waiting for an answer.
Owen looks up at Tobey, his eyes wide, his lips parted. But no words come out.
The silence is so awkward, you couldn’t cut it with a knife. There is no utensil the right shape for this kind of awkward. My instinct is to jump in and smooth things over with a quip, but I don’t want to. I kind of want to know what Owen will say now that the dumb app is up for discussion.
But he’s silent. Except, he seems to be breathing a little harder than normal.
“Tobey, they’re not together. They’re just friends,” Nisha corrects him gently.
TJ chuckles under his breath, then takes another bite of mashed potatoes.
What’s the deal with that chuckle? I file it away to ask Owen later.
Tobey winces, holds up his hands in surrender, a stuffing-covered fork in one, a knife in the other. “Gah. My bad. So sorry. I was just getting a vibe in the van. But I was wrong about the murder podcasts, so I must not be good at reading people. Good thing I can speak dog, huh?”
“I’d like to speak dog,” Holden offers, then digs back into the salad.
Owen clears his throat. “We’ve been friends forever. River and me,” he says, slapping on a grin. But he just seems . . . off.
Well, same here.
Also, fuck friendship.
And I think I just growled.
God, I hope this meal ends soon.
Steven clears his throat, flashing a smile, ever the diplomat it seems. “But it’s a great dating app. If anyone is looking for a girlfriend or boyfriend, it’s fantastic.” He directs his gaze to me, then Owen. “And really, if either of you two blokes is looking for a boyfriend, I highly recommend it.”
“Thanks for the tip,” I say, while plotting to take down an entire dating app Ocean’s Eleven-style, mirroring how the bombing expert shut down the Vegas power grid.
“And really, I bet you’d both clean up on it,” Brooks adds.
“Are either of you? Looking for a boyfriend?” Nisha asks, turning her gaze to Owen, then to me.
I wait for Owen to go first.
21
OWEN
Ten pairs of eyes bore into me.
Jillian, Jones, Steven, Brooks, Tobey, Nisha, Hailey, TJ, Reese, and Holden are focused on my face.
The only one who’s not staring at me is River.
He’s studying his plate, but he looks like he’s about to rip the table in half. It’s an unfamiliar look. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him quite like this.
On the surface, the question—am I looking for a boyfriend—is dead easy.
But underneath, I’m a ball of nerves. Have been since I arrived. Wait, make that since this morning.
So I pick the easiest way out of the question. Wriggling away from it. “Sure,” I say, noncommittally, then pick up my fork again, but since I don’t want to choke on the tofurky, I set it down and opt for another drink.
“What are you looking for in a boyfriend, Owen?” Jillian asks. This is typical of her. She’s never met a question she’s unafraid to voice.
But I kinda wish she wasn’t asking this one.
It’s not even because one of my players happens to be here.
It’s because everyone is here, and we’re at the table, and I just want meals to be nice, and pleasant, without any scenes, and then you clean up and do dishes and move the hell on.
Right place, right time, and all that.
Surely, I’ll find the perfect moment so damn soon.
“You know. Just someone nice,” I say breezily, like I can just make the question evaporate.
“Oh my God, you’re so ready to get serious,” Brooks says with glee in his voice. He grabs Steven’s arm. “This makes me so happy.”
Steven laughs, knitting his brow. “You’re happy because he wants to get serious?”
“Of course I am. I like love. I like love stories. He’s going to meet someone on Boyfriend Material like that,” Brooks says, snapping his fingers.
TJ shoots me a crooked grin. “He’s not wrong. You’ve kind of always been a dude magnet, O.”
I dip my face, pick up the fork, consider what the hell to stuff into my mouth so I don’t have to talk.
I don’t want to talk to any of them.
They’re great. Truly, they’re great. But I don’t want to talk about this stuff with anyone but one person.
“That’s true. Owen has never had to buy a drink anywhere,” Nisha says, then turns to me again. “Are you? Ready to get serious?” she asks, rubbing her belly, like that’s the next step for me.
Hailey laughs, shakes her head. “Nish, I doubt he’s thinking about having kids.”
Nisha rolls her eyes self-deprecatingly. “Gah, sorry. I kinda can’t stop touching my belly.”
“It’s a great belly,” I say, and that came out so dumb. I can’t believe anyone lets me speak for them professionally when my words tonight are of the um and doh variety.