Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I rub my hand down my face. “I lied. It’s totally work. Yup. Work.”
“Leighton—”
“We really don’t need to do this. If I were straight—”
“I’d be asking the exact same thing. Ask your brother. I hounded him with questions about Christie until he brought her around.”
“Well, you won’t be meeting this guy. I’m discovering the painful side effect of being gay.”
She purses her lips. “Is this a sex thing? Because that, I don’t need to know.”
I groan. “No. He’s straight, so he only wants to be friends.”
“Aww, hon. I’m sorry. You should try out that gay wine bar in town.”
I laugh. “That’s where I met him.”
“I’m confused.”
“He works there, but anyway, I’m going back tonight because he promised to introduce me around to some guys who aren’t straight.”
“As long as you’re safe.”
I screw up my face. “Mom!”
“I meant don’t drink and drive! Not …” It’s her turn to screw up her face.
“Can we please pretend this whole conversation didn’t happen?”
“Agreed, sweetie.” She promptly leaves, and I know I’m going to spend the rest of the day not only trying to forget any romantic feelings for Rainn, but also about that awkward conversation with my mother.
It’s funny to me that when I was in the closet, all I could think about was coming out. Now that I’m here, those small confining walls seem mighty appealing.
Campbell walks in as I’m finishing up breakfast. “One of the farmhands found a fence down on the northeast pasture. Want to give me a hand fixing it?”
“Sure.” Anything mindless where I don’t have to think is the most I can handle right now.
Fixing the fence takes most of the day, and by the time we’re done, I have to shower and get ready for tonight’s game.
I move on autopilot, from showering to driving to school and suiting up, it’s all a blur. I’m exhausted when I hit the ice, but when I do, something ignites inside me. It always does when I’m playing. There’s no gay or straight out here, no farm, no obligations other than getting that puck in the net.
Though my muscles are tired, my body knows what it’s doing, and when I light up the lamp, I’m on a high nothing can bring down. That is, until I hit the adrenaline crash in the locker room after the game.
Games are exhausting, tonight’s even more than usual. I’m dead on my feet, but I told Rainn I’d be there tonight. Then again, I’m not sure he’d really miss me if I went home and climbed into bed instead.
I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do by the time I head for my car, but when I see a teammate run into his girlfriend’s arms and kiss her hard, the longing I’ve had in my chest since hitting puberty rears its ugly head, and I want that for myself. But with a dude, obviously.
I steer my truck toward town and leave my car in the same parking garage as last week.
The bar is as busy as it was the first night I came here, and there are a few familiar faces who I know to stay away from, thank you very much. Repeat embarrassments are not on the menu tonight.
I head straight for the bar, but there are no stools available, and Rainn is busy.
I tell the disappointment to fuck off because I’m not here for him. He’s here to point me in the right direction. That’s all.
He acknowledges me by immediately getting me a drink.
I make my way through the crowd, and a group of four leaves a booth, heading for the exit as I get there.
It’s selfish to take a whole booth for myself, but there aren’t any other tables available.
And hey, maybe someone will ask for a seat, we’ll hit it off, and I’ll forget all about the dude behind the bar.
“Hey,” a soft voice says.
See? My plan is flawless. I turn my head, and okay, maybe it has some flaws.
I never thought I’d be the guy who looks at someone and goes, “Nope.” But … nope.
“Hi,” I say anyway, because I’m not a rude asshole.
There’s nothing wrong with the guy—he’s attractive, probably around my age, and I don’t recognize him from school. They’re all good points, but he’s pretty and twinkish. I’m attracted to muscles. That’s been the type of guy I’ve always checked out and fantasized about. I like so much testosterone that my ideal guy would shave every day and still have a face covered in stubble.
Like someone I already know but should not be thinking about.
“Mind if I …” The guy gestures to the spot opposite me.
“Go for it.”
“I’m Ian.”
“Whit.”
Amusement shines in his eyes. “Whip? That sounds promising.”
“Whit. With a t.”
“Oh. Shame. Is that your real name?”
“Nah, just something my friends call me.”
I don’t miss the way he checks me out while he takes a drink from his short glass. “What’s your deal?”