Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
I shrugged and grinned. “Maya had one condition on moving out of the house. She wanted a fireplace. Chief Kincaid and I had words about my options, and then he reminded me I could use the store’s wholesale discount for it.”
“Cheater,” he murmured before taking another sip of wine.
“I prefer the term dream-fulfiller.”
Adrian stared into the flames for a few minutes as the silence settled around us. “I used to think bonfires were trashy,” he said after a minute. “Like, suburban dad energy. Oversized hoodies, red Solo cups, that sort of thing.”
“And now?” I asked, eyes on him.
“Now I think I maybe missed something important.” He tilted the glass in his hands, watching as the light sparkled off the burgundy wine. “We never had stuff like that growing up. No bonfires. No cocoa stands or community potlucks or town parades. We had… galas. Brunches. Pressed napkins and catered shrimp towers.”
I made a sound of encouragement.
Adrian shifted until his back was against the arm of the sofa and he was facing me. “I know I sound like an asshole, complaining about the fancy shit—”
“You don’t,” I said, voice low.
Adrian inhaled through his nose. “It’s just… I don’t know. I’m not saying I was neglected. I wasn’t. Not in a way that counts. I had everything. Clothes, school, skiing in Stowe, and summers on the Cape. I just—” He shook his head, eyes flicking to the fire again. “My dad said I could absolutely be gay; I just needed to do it in private if I wanted to have a decent career. My mom once told me I’d never get anywhere with ‘that tooth.’ So I got braces for a third time. At sixteen. Even though the orthodontist tried telling them it wasn’t easy to twist a tooth that was otherwise perfectly aligned.”
He pointed to the crooked canine I already low-key had a crush on and tried for a laugh, but it came out too thin. “Isn’t that fucked-up? That these stupid things bother me? Like… I didn’t have it that bad. Nobody hit me, or screamed at me, or… or left.”
I didn’t speak, but my heart felt like it was being shredded. I reached my hand out and slipped it into his and squeezed.
“I’ve told myself for years it wasn’t that bad,” Adrian whispered. “Because it wasn’t. I just don’t… remember being anyone’s favorite. Ever.”
Adrian’s admission was devastating because I imagined they represented an all-too-common experience. The fact that Adrian had experienced it made me want to fly to Connecticut and hunt down his fucking parents.
I set my glass down and shifted closer. My voice was rough around the edges when I spoke. “That’s a wound no one allows you to claim,” I told him softly. “And it breaks my fucking heart, Adrian.”
Adrian’s throat worked as he tried to swallow.
“You deserved more than being the good-looking accessory in a Christmas card,” I continued. “You deserved to be loud and messy and loved anyway. You deserved someone who looked at you and thought, ‘That one’s mine.’”
Adrian blinked hard.
I squeezed his hand and cupped his cheek before leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. Gentle. Solid. Real.
“You’re still trying to be so good for everyone,” I murmured, pulling back only enough to meet his eyes. “You’re perfect just as you are, Adrian. Messy and real. Crooked tooth, weird oat milk fixation, and all.”
He sniffled and grinned, reaching out to poke me between the ribs. “Jackass. Sadie doesn’t think my oat milk fixation is weird. She said lots of her customers have been using that creamer since she started buying it for me.”
I caressed his cheek with my thumb again before moving my thumb to lift his upper lip, exposing his crooked canine. “Do you know that the first time we met, I kind of, sort of had a thing for this tooth?”
“Liar.”
“It’s true. I thought it made you perfectly imperfect. I would imagine if you were able to fix it, you wouldn’t look like yourself anymore. You’d look like all the other pretty boys on socials. Boring.”
“Keep lying,” he teased, though his voice sounded rough. “I like it.”
I tilted his chin until he met my eyes. “Anyone who makes you feel small for wanting to be loved, to be chosen—they’re the broken ones. Not you.”
Adrian’s voice was hoarse when it came. “Stop saying nice shit, or I won’t leave before morning.”
I grinned. “Not letting you leave before morning. Did I mention I also get a wholesale discount on chains?”
The air between us shifted, the gentle intimacy of the conversation bleeding into something more charged. Adrian’s gaze dropped to my mouth, and I felt that familiar pull, the gravity that seemed to exist between us.
“Adrian,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
“Yeah?”
Instead of answering with words, I closed the distance between us, capturing his mouth with mine. This kiss was different from the desperate hunger we’d shared before—slower, more deliberate. Like we had all the time in the world to explore each other, to learn the taste and texture of want without the fear of interruption.