Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“You, too,” I quickly admit.
His lips part, then his eyes drop to mine, as if instantly remembering where we left off last night.
My heart jumps. Every inch of my body vividly recalls where we left off. If I could, I’d snap my fingers and put us right back in that photo booth and never let Vann interrupt our moment in the first place.
“I don’t regret asking to kiss you,” I tell him.
He meets my eyes. “What?”
“I know we said we’re not into each other. And we’ve been pretty adamant about it all weekend. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say a part of me is … curious.”
“Curious?”
“About what would’ve happened next had we not been interrupted.” I lick my lips and suck them in, anticipating his reaction.
A cute smile slowly breaks across his face. His cheeks redden. Then he tilts his head, studying me.
I frown. “What?”
“It’s funny. I was … actually thinking about the same thing. All damned day. I almost texted you, but … each time I typed something out, I’d delete it, second-guessing myself. I wondered if maybe the pace I like to take things is too slow for you.”
“I don’t care what pace we go at, just as long as we’re going.”
“Going …?” He takes a couple of steps toward me, coming close—really close. His lips are mere inches from mine. “You want to … go with me?”
I blink. “Is this a metaphor …?”
“Isn’t everything?” He bites his lip and gazes down at mine, thoughts teeming in his eyes. “I go back to campus soon, but …”
“Yeah …?”
“… I was thinking maybe, um … if it isn’t too much trouble … after you’re finished celebrating your little bro’s eighteenth … maybe you can be the one to take me back.” He lifts his brow, forehead wrinkling up cutely. “It’d spare Vann the long bike ride. Plus, we’d get a little bit more time together. Maybe I could show you my cramped and embarrassingly messy loft where I live and do my work … maybe show you some of my art …” He second-guesses himself at once, wincing. “Only if it isn’t a bad idea. Is it a bad idea? It suddenly sounds like a bad idea.”
I take hold of his hands, silencing him. “It’s a perfect fucking idea.”
Chapter 13 - Quintin
I never actually brought a guy to the loft before.
That thought hits me as I give him a quick tour of the place, hoping to avoid the messier corners of the kitchen, living room area, and this one spot where all of my lovely roommates’ old art supplies seem to accumulate.
“Sorry ‘bout the mess,” I say as we pass by another pile of crap. “This … general area is what I kindly refer to as the inspiration graveyard, where all good art goes to die. I’m sure I have a final project or two that’s seen a slow and horrible death here. Oops, watch your step, paint brushes everywhere. Unfinished sculpture … thing … right there, don’t step on it, it might be someone else’s final project. It is a very good and rare thing that none of my roommates are actually home right now,” I point out, rambling on and on as I do when I’m nervous, “because half the reason I agreed to go to Dreamwood Isle with Vann this weekend was to avoid the lovebird lesbians I live with. Not that I don’t like them, they’re great, they’ve helped me out of a dry spell or two, but … they’re a bit sexually noisy, if you get what I mean. Alice in particular. Thin walls … loud expressions of … delight …” We stop in front of an easel. “Did you want anything to drink? Are you thirsty?”
Adrian blinks. “Are … you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m … yes, of course, totally,” I stammer. “Why?”
He smiles. Whenever he does, the whole world seems to smile with him, everything feeling better no matter what. “No reason,” he decides to say.
But I’m pretty sure I know the reason.
I’m acting strange. He notices.
“Sorry. I’ve never showed anyone my art space before. Except for other artists. Not even my parents. But that’s a whole other thing.”
“Right. Your dad.”
I keep forgetting how much I’ve already told him about myself. “Yes, that. Maybe someday he will come around, realize my artistic dreams aren’t a total waste of time. Or else I’ll prove him right by failing. Anyway, how long are you staying, by the way? I didn’t mean to keep you from your brother, if he’s—”
“Oh, the party will go on until the morning, probably. He’ll stay up all night playing video games with his best buddies, long after everyone’s left or gotten drunk and passed out on the beach. I’m not missing anything.” He faces me, soft-eyed. “I’ve got all night.”
He’s got all night.