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)
There’s no doubt that I liked it, but guy friends who cuddle doesn’t sound … normal.
Not that it’s not normal. For other people.
Ugh.
I don’t think I’ve overanalyzed something this hard since my injury where I was constantly asking, Why me?
I’m a mess by the time Saturday night rolls around. The temptation to call in sick is strong, but Ned got fired because he used the I’m-sick excuse too often. I can’t afford to lose this job.
Tanner’s behind the bar when I get there, looking as grumpy as ever.
“Hey,” I say. I put my phone and keys under the counter for safekeeping while I work.
“Your college boy coming in tonight?” He speaks in his usual gruff tone, and his expression stays grumpy. I’m not sure why he’s asking.
“Probably. Why?”
He steps closer to me. “You’ve got to be careful with that one.”
“Huh?”
“He’s got major love hearts in his eyes for you.”
I scoff but practically choke trying to make the noise. “Bullshit.”
“No bullshitting. Just, let him down easy, okay? Don’t be the straight asshole and ridicule him for getting a crush.”
I frown. “I wouldn’t do that. We’re friends.”
“No, you’re friends with him. He’s like an animated puppy sniffing out a bone.”
My heart starts beating faster for some reason.
I rub my chest. “Don’t think so.”
Tanner leans against the bar. “Think about it. How many guys has he spoken to or hit on since he started coming here?”
“Lots.”
Tanner laughs. “Nope. He sits on that stool right there, orders cider, and talks to you every chance he gets. Then you go home with him.”
That feeling is back. The unease in my gut. Though, is it unease or is it butterflies?
I can’t be sure.
When Whit walks through the doors a few hours later, I’m surprised by the warmth in my chest. But as he takes his usual seat at the bar, orders the same drink he does every week, and doesn’t even look at other customers, I realize Tanner might be right.
I don’t know what to do with that.
10
Whit
Rainn is acting weird, and I have a feeling it has something to do with me falling asleep next to him last week, but it’s not like it’s my fault. I was on a comfortable bed, and with my schedule being as crazy as it is, I’m always tired. Give me a chance to fall asleep, and I will.
When he first woke up, I thought he might have felt weird about it, but everything was fine when I left him last week.
Right now, I’m guessing that impression was wrong.
The bar is always busy on a Saturday, but tonight Rainn seems to have no time for me at all. He avoids eye contact, and when he does bring me a new drink, he’s so speedy I don’t even get a chance to ask how his week was.
At one point, his boss pulls Rainn aside to say something to him, but I can’t hear what it is. Directly after that, Rainn approaches me. “I’m going on break. You want to come with me to get something to eat?”
I don’t have a great feeling about this, but I down the rest of my drink and stand. “Sure.”
On our way out, I spot Ian at one of the booths with a couple of guys, and he lifts his beer toward me. I nod back, but when he smirks, I get the feeling it’s at me, not with me, and it’s probably because of my stupid crush on the straight bartender who I’ve been lusting after for weeks now.
Rainn takes me to the Church Street Marketplace to a little kabob shop. “You want anything?”
“I could always eat. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“Ah, the appetite of a hockey player. You better watch it come graduation. You’ll end up like me.” Rainn rubs his stomach, drawing my attention to his filled-out form. And by filled out, I mean amazingly hard and toned.
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“No, but I used to be all lean like you. Stop all that cardio, and the slimness goes away.”
“You’re forgetting I work on a farm. That’s all physical activity.” I show him my guns to prove my point and see the small smile trying to break through on his lips.
“Put those things away before you hurt yourself.”
We get our food and go to the small bench seat by the window, and I have the distinct impression Rainn wants to tell me something. He makes no move to say it, so we eat in silence.
“Thanks for the food,” I say when I’m done, wiping my hands on a napkin.
“No problem.” He swallows hard. “That’s what friends do for each other.”
I know that’s what we are, and yet the word somehow hurts, which is ridiculous.
“So, listen …” he starts, but then his mouth closes.
I hold my breath. For some reason, I picture Rainn telling me about a life-changing sexual identity crisis he’s having. Oh, naïve little baby gay heart.