Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
He took the baggie, a rolling tray, and some papers to the desk.
“This isn’t old shit from the nineties, right?” I asked.
“It’s from my recovery,” he promised. “I smoked a lot of weed on top of all those painkillers. Which probably wasn’t a smart idea. Don’t follow my bad example.”
While he rolled, I wandered the room and inspected things. There was a collection of movies on tape. I pulled one out. “This is VHS, right?”
He didn’t look up. “Yes.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in person before,” I said, giving the cartridge a little shake.
He sighed deeply.
“I’m making you feel old again, aren’t I?” I put the tape back.
“Time makes me feel old. You point out the existence of time.” He glanced up and gave me a little smile. “I don’t even have a VHS player in here. These are for nostalgia.”
Near a set of French doors stood a long sideboard with an impressive collection of fully assembled Lego sets. “You were clearly a very popular teen.”
“Hey!” he said defensively, coming to stand beside me. “Don’t disparage my teen hobby. Do you know how far you have to drive to get to a fucking mall out here?”
“You would have hung out at the mall?”
The look on his face told me I was making him aware of his mortality again.
He turned his attention to the Lego. “First of all, these sets were amazing. This was before the scourge of the licensed property. I’ve got the Royal Knight’s Castle, The Black Knight’s Castle, the King’s Mountain Fortress… These are collectors’ items.”
I had to turn away to hide my laughter.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” I turned back and looped my arms around his neck. “I can’t figure out why I find you so charming.”
“Well, you are related to your brother. Nerd genes are strong. Isn’t your dad into model trains?” he asked.
I opened my mouth to protest, but he was right. “Yeah. Now that you mention it, he did have this huge model train set before I was born. He had to take it all apart when…”
When I was born. I didn’t want to dwell on that.
“We can’t smoke that in here, right?” I changed the subject before Matt could call me out on my trailing off.
“No, my mom would kill me.” It was such a cute statement coming from a grown man. He nodded toward the doors. “We can smoke on the balcony, though.
“A balcony,” I said, as we stepped out onto it. “Must have been pretty convenient for sneaking out.”
“Sneaking out to where?” He dropped into one of the padded wicker patio chairs and pulled a lighter from his pocket.
“Good point.” I rested my arms on the rough stone balustrade. “Is this place made of granite?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed around the joint held between his lips.
“So, we’re getting a low dose of radiation the entire time we’re here?” I turned and leaned against the railing.
He frowned. “Granite is radioactive?”
“Yeah, it can be. It releases radon, which—” I stopped myself. He’d said his dad had died of cancer. I would keep my knowledge to myself. I waved my hand. “There are those nerd genes.”
“They’ll get worse through exposure to me.” He patted his thigh. “Come here.”
I sat on his knee and let him bring the lit joint to my mouth for a puff. He was right; I did need something to unwind my nerves. I looked out at the view, a terraced lawn with paths and fountains straight out of Pemberley.
“My sister and I used to Rollerblade on those paths,” he said, gesturing to two wide, white-paved avenues flanking a rectangular pond. “I could get so much air off those stairs.”
How had he managed any sort of a normal childhood, living here? Legos and marble floors. Rollerblades and ornamental gardens. My mind rebelled at the notion of any of those things going together.
“This is nice,” I said, relaxing against him.
He called my bluff. “You hate it here.”
“It wouldn’t be my choice for a vacation, but it’s fascinating. Seeing how you grew up. What shaped you into the guy I love.” I nuzzled his cheek above the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave off that morning.
“You’re making this into an anthropological study,” he said tightly as he held in a hit.
“Kind of. A study of you.” I waited for him to exhale, then went in for a kiss. I was expecting to have a playful little taste, but his arm tightened around my waist, and his tongue slid into my mouth. My head swam, and I squirmed against his thigh, my own pressed tight together. I caught his low groan between my lips and responded in kind, pressing my hands against the front of his crisp linen shirt.
“Oh, for god’s sake.”
I started and lifted my head guiltily at the voice. It sounded very much like a mom voice. This can’t be how I meet his mother.