Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 47200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
And he busies himself with selecting ingredients for the meal he’s gonna have us stand here talking over while he makes it.
Then we’ll all have to sit down and eat it, talking for more hours….
Hours without me being able to even look at Brandon without thinking twice.
Brandon’s saved dad’s ass for good by the sounds of it, so whatever Brandon suggests from now on, I know dad will eagerly go along with it.
“I wasn’t getting paid very much to tutor, Dad,” I remind him, poking my tongue out at Brandon when my Dad’s not looking.
Cocking my brow as I consider what my hourly rate might be should I decide to accept his little job offer.
It takes some getting used to but just hanging out in the kitchen with Brandon and my dad. Once I get over the compulsion to have him hold me every five seconds.
It feels good just to talk, eat and even goof around without having to worry about anything else for a while.
There are plenty of times I can see the strain on Brandon’s face, but my dad’s my dad, and he’s still Brandon’s best friend.
We eat and sit around talking about anything and everything as I’m washing up and the men are having their little after-dinner pow-wow out on the porch. I realize I might have to spend the night away from Brandon too. Like not just tonight, but every night until we figure out what to do.
It’s not a happy thought either, and I know Brandon is thinking the same thing as the time for bed gets closer and closer.
We’ve spent more hours today not touching and kissing than we have actually doing it, and I just know Brandon isn’t happy about that either.
So when my dad comes back inside without Brandon, I try not to sound panicked when I ask where he is.
Dad chuckles. “He went home, sweetie. He lives next door now. Remember?” he asks, stifling a yawn and scratching his belly, letting me know he’s about to turn in.
“I gotta huge day tomorrow, so I might not even see ya before or after work, but thanks for helping Brandon out. He’s really saved our bacon,” Dad says, pecking my cheek before stretching out another yawn and heading to his room.
Not long after hearing his door close, there's a light rapping at the back door.
I spin around and see Brandon, his finger pressed firmly to his lips before he stalks over to me in two steps, kissing me like he knows I need it right now.
“Wait ‘til he’s asleep… Then come over,” he murmurs, cocking his head and darting back out the door before my dad shuffles down the hall again.
He’s in his pajamas this time on the way to the bathroom. But once he goes back to his room, I know he won’t be coming out again. And if he does, he’ll think I’m asleep.
So, tidying up the rest of the kitchen in record time, it isn’t long before I hear my dad blowing bubbles in his sleep, and I’m hot-footing it next door.
I’m eager to make up for lost time, and feel the need for Brandon now more than ever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Brandon
I don’t think we slept a wink the first week.
Creeping around in the dead of night and then again in the pre-dawn light.
May’s over at my place every morning, right after her dad leaves for work.
He still thinks she’s in her own bed every night and only helping me out part-time during the day.
But in between when he leaves for work and when he gets home for dinner, she’s here where she belongs.
Right by my side.
Or, in most cases, bouncing her fine ass on the end of my fat cock until she screams my name into a pillow.
It’s not as if I haven’t tried to tell him, though. May too.
It cuts me up to keep anything from my oldest friend, but seeing him on such a high, it would just ruin him if I told him how I feel about May.
Even though I know, it’s the only right thing left to do.
But there’s just never the right moment, and Steve seems the happiest I think I’ve ever seen him once his business starts moving in the direction he wants.
He’s even making noise about setting up a workshop on the east coast. Making my original idea sound like his own, but if it makes him happy, I’m happy.
Because of all that, May and I made a pact.
If Steve asks either of us directly if we’re anything more than just friends, we tell him. But he’s so busy now we actually don’t see much of him at all.
As uneasy as it makes me, keeping our thing a secret just a little longer is the easiest way to avoid making waves.
Or so I thought.
It’s been two weeks to the day, and I don’t think May nor I have ever been happier our whole lives, except for the sneaking around past her dad bit.