Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Derek’s eyebrows scrunch slightly. Now I feel bad. “What do you normally eat pastrami with?”
“Usually with mustard on rye.”
He nods like he’s absorbing some received wisdom, not a sandwich recipe. “Cheese?”
I shake my head.
“You sure?” Like he’s concerned about not being a good host. “I think I have some Swiss somewhere.”
“I don’t eat meat and cheese together.” Another eyebrow scrunch, this one bordering on cute. “I’m Jewish,” I clarify. “Assumed it was obvious from the name.”
Derek looks briefly surprised. “Is there other food I should get?” he asks, which is kind of cool, actually, but also implies I’m going to be staying here a while.
And I can’t, if the last hour is anything to go by. Not sure I can last this long with my attraction to him.
“I’m good. If I’m still here in a week”—I might combust, semi-spontaneously from being around him all the time—“we can do some shopping.”
That’s a surreal thought, crashing for that long with someone I’m attracted to. But Derek doesn’t seem perturbed by it. Once our sandwiches are made, the three of us flop onto Derek’s sectional to eat. Travis and Derek are watching a TV show I haven’t seen before, a crime thriller that they half-explain to me while chewing loudly. I pull out my phone, scrolling through real estate listings that haven’t become any more auspicious since I looked at them earlier today. I switch to Twitter, where the main topic of discussion seems to be one of those advice posts asking if the person who wrote it is an asshole. One that makes me imagine my current situation.
Dear Internet, I hooked up with a hot colleague in order to get over my ex. A few months later, I got transferred to the same office as my hookup. Now I’m living with him while I search for an apartment in a saturated real estate market. Also, he’s still blisteringly hot. Am I the asshole for taking a free room from a guy I hooked up with then left?
The answer is almost certainly yes. So when Travis and Derek are done eating, I offer to take their plates back to the kitchen.
A favor that doesn’t make me feel much better about taking a room.
I return to the living room, but don’t bother to sit again. Instead, I do an exaggerated yawn, then I make my excuses to go to bed. “Long day. See you tomorrow,” I say.
Travis nods a friendly goodnight. “Catch you in the morning, Chason.” A ch like church. I don’t bother to correct him.
Derek cuts in. “It’s Chason,” Derek says, pronouncing my name correctly. I expect an eye roll from Travis, to be called Chason like Chasing just to be an asshole, the way some guys in the minors used to. Because ballplayers pick at each other, constantly, sometimes for funny stuff, sometimes for stuff that isn’t as funny. I’ve learned to smile and say it doesn’t bother me, even when it does, because sometimes that escalates. Nice doesn’t pick fights in the clubhouse, even when guys deserve it. Besides, I’m not the only one with a name people can’t seem to wrap their mouths around. Just ask Eugenio Morales on the Gothams. The broadcasters botch it more than they get it right. You learn to just deal with it.
“Like Hazin’, but the H is in your throat,” Derek adds, maybe for my personal benefit.
Travis startles, clearly surprised at the correction. “My bad, Chason,” he says to me. He can’t quite manage the ch, a noise that proves tricky for ballplayers despite us all being experts in spitting. But it’s not nothing, especially when Derek gives him an approving nod.
I murmur a thanks, not looking at Derek. Because his explanation makes something tighten in my chest. I like it—probably too much.
All the more reason I need my own apartment right away. If I throw my name around, I could get one fast. Tomorrow, I promise myself. I’ll start looking tomorrow.
7
Derek
My first thought when big-mouthed Travis offered my spare room to the new guy was Are you fucking kidding me?
My second thought was about what Adam looks like rolling out of bed first thing in the morning.
I’m about to find that out.
I hope I don’t regret it. I bought this place for its view—of the city skyline. And now of Adam, sitting at my kitchen island.
I’m not all the way awake yet. My “good morning” comes out hoarse.
For some reason, his cheeks go slightly red.
I wonder how far down that flush goes. Followed almost immediately by Don’t screw this up.
Even if Adam probably blushes like he does most things—spectacularly. Which is endearing, and a little entertaining. His shy side makes me want to wind him up. And undo him in bed.
Not exactly a clubhouse leader thought. I definitely shouldn’t be lusting after the guy living with me temporarily and working with me…for the foreseeable future.