Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“I’m sure it will be fine,” he says, but I can barely hear him through the thudding in my ears. He smells so different than he did two years back. Herby… Is it mint? Rosemary? Yet more proof that he is a changed man, and I’m desperate to smell my pits to make sure I live up to his standards.
He lets go all too fast, leaving me numb, and gives the same brief hug to my mom, making me feel somewhat less special.
Cass lingers in the door that bit longer, looking straight into my eyes with the same sincerity as always, and I can feel that his coming out to me took a lot of weight off his shoulders. He seems… happy.
“We’re gonna have a blast, Matt. I can’t wait.”
Me too. Even if my whole chest is on fire, my stomach is shrinking, and I’m dying to smell my T-shirt to check if Cass’s scent has clung to me.
What?
It’s a nice smell.
Chapter 2
“Go to the right. We’re almost there,” Cass says, carrying the final box of my belongings. We could have taken the elevator, but with one being broken and the other—already taken over by a group of girls occupying one of the larger apartments, we opted to use the stairs.
The apartment building is just off campus, and while it mostly houses students, it should be a neat transition from living in a dorm to renting someplace on my own. But instead of looking at the beige walls and barf-green carpet in the corridor, all I can focus on are the muscles of Cass’s back flexing under his T-shirt. We both love sporty stuff, hiking, swimming, so he’s always been fit, like me, but he’s grown since high school. His T-shirt fits on the tighter side, and it's hard not to assess how much work he must put into his workouts. Is it to attract guys, which is a weird thought in itself, or simply because he wants to be more toned? I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to ask.
“This is a good workout though!” I laugh, taking another sneak peek at him.
Yep, definitely more muscular.
Cass bumps his shoulder into the door and leads the way into a bright interior with large windows. To the right is a kitchen, and to the left—a wall of green interrupted by the dark blot of the flatscreen TV. Cassian’s always loved plants, but since he’s moved away from home it has become more of an obsession. And I’ve already seen way more in his bedroom.
“It will feel like living in a jungle,” I say, taking in the endless greenery.
“Hope you don’t mind?” Cass asks, settling the box on the kitchen counter. “My previous roommate claimed half of those shelves for his books, but I took them over since,” he says with a grin before heading to the window where a Venus flytrap grows out of an ornamental pot. “And here she is. You can finally meet Lollobrigida in person. Or should I say, in plant.”
I chuckle. “Did she wave? It’s only natural to wave back, right?” I say and wiggle my hand at the plant that’s Cassian’s pride and joy. “She won’t eat me at night if I’m polite to her, right?”
But then I turn my attention back to my best friend. The front of his T-shirt is dark with moisture, and it sticks to his body.
Seeing the change in my face, he offers me an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I think something broke in transport.”
“No, it’s my fault! I took a reckless turn when driving. Fuck. Mom’s pickles must be leaking. You don’t want that on you. It has staying power. Ask me how I know.” I rush up to him and pull on the T-shirt so the fabric pulls away from his body. I stiffen, realizing that what I'm doing could be considered weird, and end up just standing there, stuck in a conundrum of my own making.
Cass doesn’t seem to notice my awkwardness and pulls the top off, revealing his toned upper body with short dark hair dusted over his chest and stomach. Does he… trim it? No way it could have grown like that on its own. And his pecs?
Damn.
His pecs.
His skin is a naturally dusky shade, and sure, I’ve seen his nipples before, I know they’re a darker color than mine, but I’m still staring. Is it because I’m jealous of how much he’s grown? Ridiculous. I’m no small guy myself. I work out, though now I find myself wondering how long it would take me to match up with him. Is it the difference between us that makes me analyze his looks all the time?
“Fuck. Sorry,” I mutter when he stills, and I turn, cheeks on fire.
There’s a moment of silence, and then, “You don’t have to look away. We’re both guys.”