Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
When Torin asked me to join him for dinner, I practically stammered at him.
I’ve been acting weird around him all day, ever since he woke up in my bed, kissed my forehead, and bounced out like a ball of energy to go for a swim.
“Him,” Torin says as he nods over toward a table near one of the corners. I spot Roman. “Roman’s been leaving us out of the loop on something, and I’m going to figure out what that is.”
“Okay. Sure.”
I’m too distracted by Torin right now as we walk outside and line up for food. He’s wearing this shirt I haven’t seen him in before, and there shouldn’t be anything special about a dark green T-shirt but for some reason, there is.
It’s tight enough on him that I can see the faint impression of his pecs and nipple ring through the thin cotton, and his biceps come out of the arms like they’re about to burst through. His eyes are also stunning in the light of the sunset, and fuck, I’m so fucked, and I’ve never noticed any of these things about other men before in my goddamn life.
Chill the fuck out.
It’s typical that I would spend the night with someone and suddenly have my brain crosswire into crush-land, but having it happen with Torin Jensen is pure mental warfare.
I know it will go away.
I just have to act normal, which is apparently easier said than done.
We go down the line for food and get barbecue chicken, corn, and some veggies.
“This looks fucking delicious,” Torin says when we get near the end of the line.
“Oh, did you see the grilled peach and pineapple? I know you love pineapple,” I tell him. “Not that you, like, have to get it, I just thought… like, you know. You like it.”
Fuck, how many times can I say the word ‘like?’
Torin glances up at me and my chest aches again when his eyes do that thing where they’re looking right through me.
“Yes, Noah. I see the pineapple.”
Is he holding back a smile, or just judging me with the fury of 10,000 suns?
“Did you want me to grab some for you?” I ask.
“Yeah, and you can tie my shoes and hold my hand while I cross the street, too,” Torin says. “I can grab my own pineapple, babe. I’m just going to come back and get it after I finish the chicken.”
“Okay! Cool,” I say.
Way too overeager.
Did he call me babe? How the fuck do I usually act around Torin? Because I can’t remember.
We head back through the doors and find Roman sitting at his table alone.
Roman nods at us. “If it isn’t the Vancliff duo.”
“Don’t call him that,” I say as I sit down next to Roman and Torin takes the opposite side of the booth. “Is that side good, Torin? If the sun gets in your eyes we could swap.”
Torin scoots about one inch to the side and the sunset isn’t hitting his eyes at all anymore. “Look at that. Magic.”
I laugh a little too loudly and suddenly find myself wishing for a rewind button on this entire evening so far.
Luckily, Torin doesn’t begin the interrogation the moment we sit down, and I have time to enjoy my food.
Roman chats with me about an upcoming block party we’re planning for the three societies, and for a handful of blissful minutes, I can relax.
A few minutes later, a group of guys walk by and one of them accidentally bumps Torin’s shoulder with his tray.
A splash of water gets knocked out of the guy’s cup, hitting Torin’s arm.
“Shit. Sorry, man,” the guy says.
“Here,” I say, standing up immediately and grabbing a wad of napkins from the center of the table and reaching over to drag them across the water on his arm. “All good?”
Torin’s eyes are pinning me with a fierce gaze. “Yep. I’m fine.”
“Cool.”
I can’t read his expression, and suddenly I feel my cheeks heat as Torin stands up. “I’m going to go grab that grilled pineapple. I’ll be back.”
I bite back the instinct to offer to go get it for him, because holy shit, I’m even bothering myself at this point.
The moment Torin walks off back out to the grill area, Roman turns to me.
“You’re acting weird,” Roman says.
“No I’m not.”
“You’re acting very fucking weird.”
I pull in a long breath and put down my fork. “It’s just been a long week, okay?”
“This is how you act when you have a crush on a girl,” Roman says. “Did you get in a fight with Torin or something and now you’re over-apologizing?”
I furrow my brow, shaking my head. “No.”
Roman peers at me for a few moments and then suddenly a smile breaks out on his face.
He leans back, starting to laugh, which starts slowly and then gets louder.
Apparently Roman finds this to be the most hilarious thing in the world, because I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him laughing so hard at anything.