Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
He shrugs. “I figured if the blowjob didn’t help, maybe distracting you by being a brat might.”
“How generous of you.”
“You’re welcome.” He finally steps back, and I pull up my underwear and jeans. “You want to stay for a bit and talk about it?” Levi heads for the kitchen, washing his hands in the sink and taking his apron off.
I want to stay so fucking badly but not to talk about what’s up with me. I want to stay because I want to hang out with him. I want to spend all my free time with him.
And I think I have my answer to my problem.
I can’t spend any more time with Levi while I work toward the NFL. I already like him too much, and if we keep doing what we’re doing, I’m going to fall ass over tit in love with him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
levi
I frown. “Pey?”
He hasn’t moved since pulling up his jeans, and he’s still hovering in the entryway to the apartment.
When he messaged, I wanted nothing more than to invite him over and talk him through whatever he’s worried about, but considering I haven’t even heard from him since the day after Thanksgiving when we awkwardly shuffled around each other wordlessly until I said I should get home and got the hell out of there, I figured he was looking for something more physical.
Now I’m thinking that was the wrong move because Peyton shakes his head and says, “Sorry. Umm, I’d love to stay and hang out, but this is a huge week coming up for me. Last game of the season and all.”
“Oh, is it a home game?”
“It is.”
I could drag Remy to another one. Maybe. But then I think about how the last one turned out and realize even bribery wouldn’t work on Remy. Bribery might work on Brady, though. He’d already be at the game, and he does owe me one for keeping my mouth shut about his late-night visitors. Bribery, blackmail … same thing, right?
The morning after our 3:00 a.m. run-in, I realized the guys he was with couldn’t have been so random after all. The way Brady said it, he implied they were random guys who were at the party, but I distinctly remember them both being older and he told them to go to his room, and they immediately knew where it was.
So yeah, I could hold that knowledge over Brady’s head if I wanted to.
Or I could put my big-boy panties on and go by myself. Though, that sounds a little sad.
Hopeless gay boy watches the star quarterback play football while everyone around them has no idea that they’re hooking up. Yeah, that doesn’t sound like fun.
“Does that mean after this weekend, the pressure will ease?” Maybe we can catch up then.
He shakes his head. “Not if we’re selected to play in the playoff. Then we have a few weeks to train for that. So, I’m going to be busy for a while.” Peyton averts his gaze, guilt written all over his face.
Yep. As I suspected, this was a flyby booty call. Not that I can blame him. I did lure him here with the offer of sex, so that’s on me.
“Maybe we can catch up again after you win all of the football, then.” My offer is empty because I don’t want to be that guy. The one who waits around for breadcrumbs from the guy they like.
“Win all of the football?” he asks in amusement.
“Go Kings,” I deadpan.
“Thanks for the support.” Peyton picks up his bag off the ground.
“You’re welcome. But for real, good luck. Uh, break a leg? I don’t know what’s good luck in these situations.”
“Telling a football player to break a leg? Definitely not good luck.”
“See, I’m learning things.”
“I’m gonna …” Peyton tilts his head toward the door.
“See you around.”
He leaves, and I’m left with a sense of finality. My biggest fear of moving to California and going to FU has come true. I would have rather had Peyton as a friend than not at all, and even though it wasn’t explicitly said, I know I’m not seeing him again.
At least, not until after football is done.
The realization football will never be done for Peyton hits me like a sucker punch to the gut.
While I don’t think coming to SoCal was a mistake—I’m doing what I love here—crossing lines with the person who made me want to create my own path in life was.
That was definitely the blowoff.
I look back at the project I was working on before Peyton showed up and want to kick my own ass. It’s another life art project that needs to express an emotion between two people. It needs to be obvious without a prompt, and I thought what I’d created represented love, but as I stare at the two hands intertwined, I have to laugh at myself because the message in my sculpture is clear: companionship.