Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
He rolls his eyes. “I’ve known you going on a year, kid. I don’t think I’ve ever seen blue on you. Usually black. Recently some other colors, but never blue.”
“I’ve been inspired lately,” I say with a shrug.
Jarrett waggles his brows at me, already interested in the gossip he seems to smell from a mile away. “And who is this sudden inspiration?”
“You assume it’s a who and not a what?”
“Boy, I wasn’t born yesterday. You’ve got that nauseating lovesick look about you. Or dicksick. You’re dicksick. Dear God, I hope it’s contagious.”
I laugh at his idiocy. “I’m not lovesick.” Liar. “And maybe I’m a little dicksick.” A lot dicksick.
He drops onto the arm of the chair I’m sprawled out in. “Do tell. I’m bored and need to live vicariously through the young.”
The smile on my face is back. I can’t get rid of it. Atlas drives me wild. He’s so fucking kinky, but I am there for it. So there for it.
“I’m seeing someone,” I admit.
“Don’t act like we both don’t know who it is.”
I lift a brow. “Yeah, smartass. Who is it?”
“The cop who bought your chaise. You know, your new roomie.” He smirks at me. “He was singing your praises when he came in to buy that thing.”
I perk up. “He was? What did he say?”
“Just that you were an expert in all things artsy and decorative. He got that same cheesy grin on his face that you’re wearing now.” He playfully smacks my shoulder. “Spill, man. I want to know? Is the cop hung or what? Does he suck a good dick? I bet the filthy bastard handcuffs you.”
My cheeks blaze with heat. “I’ll never kiss and tell.”
“Please. You’re dying to spill the beans to someone, and your bestie Zak is too in love with you to tell him. You’re a total asshole, kid, but you’re not the type to hurt people for sport.”
Sometimes I hate how much this old dude knows me.
“Fine,” I huff. “Atlas is my boyfriend.” A stupid grin slips out. “And he’s incredibly…creative in the bedroom. Extremely talented. Filthy as fuck. You happy?”
“No, dumbass, I’m jealous.”
We both chuckle.
“Are you buying anything today or just trying to infect me with your dicksickness?”
“I want to buy that antique desk that’s been sitting there for months,” I tell him, gesturing to the desk along the wall. “It begs me to every time I see it.”
“Your cop boyfriend gonna pick it up for you?”
Cop boyfriend.
Never thought I’d hear those two words together, but here we are.
“Yeah, we can come by tomorrow and get it.”
“Where are you headed to next?” he asks as he stands up and makes his way over to the register.
“Need to pop in and order a few things from Addison and then off to Comida’s to pick up dinner for the hot cop.”
Jarrett makes a sour face at the mention of one of the owners of Granger’s Home Décor. He thinks their upscale New Yorker store is in direct competition with his ancient furniture finds. Sometimes Jarrett is such an idiot.
“You can come with if you want,” I taunt.
“Pass. I’d rather talk to Ebenezer.”
The cat meows as though he agrees his cat daddy should stay with him.
“All right,” I say, walking over to the register where he’s rung me up. I toss him my debit card. “I’ll see you later, man.”
He swipes it, and once the receipt prints, I sign it and bid him goodbye. By the time I make it outside, heavy snow flurries make it kind of difficult to see. I tighten my coat—or Atlas’s if we’re being technical—around me, shuddering against the cold. Comida’s smells amazing, per usual. I hurry inside, shaking off the snow in my hair. The restaurant is busy this evening. I recognize a few faces. I’m almost to the register to place a to-go order when someone sniggers at me.
Jeremy Powers and two of his buddies.
Great.
I pretend to ignore them though every hair on my arms is standing on end. Fernando is on the grill tonight. He’s super hot for an older guy. Even though he’s Hans’s brother, he still looks good. I think Hans got all the goofy genes, whereas Fernando got all the good-looking, suave ones.
“Faggot,” a voice carries over the hum of the busy restaurant.
I cringe, knowing it came from Jeremy. I fucking hate that guy. There was a time I’d have probably gotten pissed and popped off at the mouth. But not after Hank. Hank fucked me up both physically and mentally. It’s best to avoid saying anything at all.
“Be there in a sec,” Fernando calls out.
After he plates some food, he sets it in the window for the waitress and then saunters over to me.
“Hey, man. How’s it going?”
“Pretty good. Your brother knocked my sister up yet?”
He chuckles. “Let’s hope for the sake of mankind, no.” His chin lifts. “What can I get you?”