Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Mixed with the pain in my jaw and knuckles is the burning question: why do I keep getting involved in Dax’s life? I don’t even know the guy. Not really. Although, maybe I know more than I should.
It’s not something I have much time to consider before I hear, “Hey!”
Dammit.
I dig into my pocket and fish out the joint I was planning to enjoy later tonight, but I’d love to be high right about now. I keep walking, hoping Dax will leave me alone, but I’ve learned that’s not his thing.
He jogs up beside me, then walks at my pace. “You gonna tell me what the hell that was about back there?”
I light up, taking a drag. It’s a good way to buy me time to come up with some excuse. Any minute now. I enjoy the sensation of the smoke filling my lungs before pushing it out. The fall breeze shoves it right back against my face.
“Miles…” he presses.
Hearing my name on his lips really grates on my nerves.
“Didn’t think a guy like you needed to run around snatching people’s boyfriends,” I snap.
“That’s not what was happening.”
“I fucking know. I heard the whole damn thing.”
He flinches.
Oh. That was a dumb thing to say.
“You guys weren’t exactly having a discreet conversation,” I reply to the question he hasn’t asked. “And here I heard you were good at reading people, but you can’t ask the most basic question when you want to fuck a guy.”
“I guess I forgot to give him the usual fifty-page questionnaire before I started dancing with him. And from his boyfriend’s reaction, it’s clear he’s a decent liar, so don’t put that on me.”
We come up to Omega Psi’s house. They’re having their own party tonight, and guys are hanging outside on the front deck and the lawn. I head through the yard.
“I’m not done with you yet,” Dax says.
“Apparently.”
I head up the porch and through the door. A few acquaintances say hey and offer fist bumps as I navigate through the crowd, up to the second floor. I check one of the rooms that’s usually open for hookups, and when I see it’s clear, I head inside, Dax right behind me. I walk into the en suite and search through the medicine cabinet for some shit to deal with my lip.
I’m expecting questions or more pushing, but Dax is surprisingly quiet, which draws my attention more than if he was confronting me. He’s leaning against the doorframe, glaring. My gaze lingers on his features, studying them like I would when I draw him in class. The curvature of his full lips, the way the light casts against his cheekbones, his vibrant green eyes with subtle brown streaks.
“I’m fine with sitting in silence,” he says.
“Is that why you just killed it?” I take another drag of my joint, then keep it between my lips as I grab the antiseptic. Before I have a chance to reach for a tissue, Dax already has it and hands it to me. This is where I’m supposed to say thanks, but I just take it and start wiping at the blood until it clears. Not such a bad ding.
“Don’t worry, you’re still hot,” Dax says.
I turn to him, study his face again, this time to figure out if he’s serious.
Does he think I’m hot?
Why do I even give a shit?
“You have a thing for people who tell you to fuck off?” I ask. “Is that your kink?”
“Do you want me to have a thing for people who tell me to fuck off? Is that your kink?”
I ignore him as I check myself in the mirror again before disposing of the bloody tissue. “Well, been as fun as it always seems to be with you, Dax. But this is the part where you actually fuck off.”
I breeze past him, ready to make an exit the way I did in class the other day, when I hear behind me, “You know, if you want to fuck me, it doesn’t have to be this difficult.”
I stop, turn back to him.
Now he’s got his back against the wall, arms folded, looking pretty damn full of himself, and I don’t know why it bugs the hell out of me—I guess I don’t like when people make assumptions about me that aren’t true.
“What?”
“Come on, Miles. This back-and-forth. One minute you’re hot, the next you’re cold. If you want to hit this, that’s not a bad thing. And you definitely don’t have to be a dick about it.”
I approach him, which I already figure is a mistake, but I can’t help myself, which seems to be my problem around him. “You think the reason I’m acting this way is because I’m denying some impulse to fuck you?”
Though…maybe. I consider it for longer than I should.
“It’s not a crime to be attracted to guys,” he says.