Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He changed the subject with, “You said something about a baseball game tomorrow. Are you watching or playing?”
“Playing. I’m on a team with a bunch of people from work.”
“Do you have a punny name?”
“Of course. We’re the Artful Dodgers. Get it? Because we’re a bunch of artists, and the Dodgers are a—”
“Major league baseball team. Dude, I get it, right down to the random Dickens reference.” He shifted around so he was curled up on his side in the dog bed, with one hand propping up his head. “You can still play, even after messing up your shoulder?”
“Yeah. We’re not exactly going for major league pitching speeds here. Plus, even if I get sore, there’s plenty of time to recover between games.”
“Can I come along?”
“Didn’t you tell me all of five minutes ago that you hate sports?”
“That’s not exactly what I said. I don’t like attention-seeking high school athletes, and that’s because the jocks at my school were such a stereotype. They always went out of their way to pick on the scrawny gay kid. How was I even worth the effort?”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that. But for the record, not all of us jocks were bullies.”
“Well no, not you, because you were also the only out gay kid at your school. You would have had to beat yourself up. It’d be like, Fight Club, the early years.” I grinned at that, and he asked, “When did you come out?”
“When I was sixteen.”
“That’s bold, especially in a small town.”
“What about you, when did you come out?”
“I never had to. People started calling me gay when I was five. I didn’t even know what it meant at that point, and once I found out I was like, is that supposed to be an insult? All you’re doing is accurately describing me.”
“To circle back around to your original question, if you really want to come along to the baseball game tomorrow, you’re more than welcome. I guess I’m just surprised that that’s how you want to spend your first Saturday in the city.”
“If I go, I’ll get to meet a few people and see you in action,” he said. “That sounds way better than wandering around aimlessly without my van.”
“Then it’s a plan. You can come out with us afterwards, too. We go to this cool pub with darts, and axe throwing.”
“I’ll pass on hurling projectiles, but I’d love to go for drinks with you and your friends.”
We sat in the cat room talking about the most random stuff for the next hour or so. Finally, I stood up and stretched as I said, “I think I need to head to bed, or I’m going to be pretty useless at the game tomorrow.”
He got up too, smiling at me flirtatiously as he asked, “Want some company?”
It was tempting. He was very cute, but I found myself saying, “Thanks for the offer, but I think we should just keep this as a friendship.”
He looked so dejected that I felt like an asshole. “Yeah,” he muttered, “I knew it was a long shot. You’re way out of my league. I get that.”
“That’s not it at all! I think you’re adorable, and if I was going to hook up with anyone, it’d be you.”
“It’s okay, Miller. I’m used to rejection.”
“But I’m not rejecting you. The truth is, I haven’t been with anyone since my ex and I broke up, and I’m not ready to jump back in the saddle, so to speak.” I hadn’t planned on confessing that, but I couldn’t let Collie think this was about him.
“You don’t mean the ex from eleven months ago, do you? The plastic surgeon? There must have been one or two exes since then.”
“No. Just him.”
“Holy crap, what did that man do to you?”
“It’s a long story.”
Collie said, “Give me the short version.”
“He dumped me two days before our wedding.”
“Fucker!”
I nodded. “That about sums it up.”
“How long were you together?”
“Eight years.”
“Double fucker!” I grinned at that, and he said, “I don’t get it. After eight years with a douche canoe, why aren’t you out screwing all of gay San Francisco, instead of punishing yourself in this self-imposed sex desert?”
It was self-protection, not punishment. But I didn’t want to try to explain that, so I went with, “It’s better this way.”
“Is it?”
“He really hurt me, Collie, and I never want to go through that again. I’m done with relationships, and one-night stands and random hookups were never my thing...”
“So, where does that leave you?”
I broke eye contact and muttered, “I don’t know.”
“Well, if you decide to give the whole friends with benefits thing a try, you know where to find me.” He gave me a hug, which I returned awkwardly. “Good night, Miller.”
“Good night, Collie.”
Once he was gone, I looked at the cat, who was staring at me with wide, unblinking yellow eyes. “I know,” I whispered. “I have issues. Quit judging me.”