Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Einstein: Trust me, Zach tires of peopling easy. I’ll have him home by dinner.
Now I just have to find something to do to fill five hours.
17
Seth
Spending the afternoon with Zach is great, but I won’t lie and say I’m not relieved when he finally asks me to drop him back. It’s only six, but it’s already dark, and five minutes after Zach gets out of my car and I pretend to drive away, Richie gets in.
He throws a bulging overnight bag in the back seat.
“Bit more than a toothbrush in there,” I say.
“Gotta be prepared.”
I like the sound of that.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hey.” I have the urge to lean over and kiss him hello, but that would be weird. Wouldn’t it? My nerves are back in force after a few hours apart, and I get the feeling he’s going through the same. Either that or being back in Vermont has suddenly changed the dynamic from hot as fuck to awkward, but I really hope that isn’t the case. “Eaten yet?”
“Nah. Not in the mood to go out though. Want to order something in?”
“Sounds good.” Though my brain automatically kicks into overdrive trying to determine whether he really doesn’t want to go out or just doesn’t want to go out for dinner with a guy. It’s not like it really matters at this point, right? We’re both trying to find our feet.
I pull up in the parking lot behind my building, and Richie lets out a whistle. “Shit, Seth, this is awesome.”
“Thanks.”
“The night I dropped your drunk ass off I was too busy making sure you got inside to take in where we were.”
An old wool mill on the Winooski River was converted into loft apartments in the eighties. It has history and charm, and the red brick reminds me of school.
“I might not be a history buff, but I like things with character.” I’ve had my eye on this place for a while, and since Foster’s making his own money now, it means Mom and Dad have more to spend on me. They wanted to show me how proud they were I was doing my master’s.
We climb out of the car, and Richie follows me inside.
“You have an apartment here, all to yourself?”
“Yep.”
“And I’m still stuck in the jock dorms.” His awe only increases when I unlock the door to my apartment and let him in. I have to admit, it feels kind of nice.
“It’s not that big,” I hurry to point out. The kitchen is tucked away to the side, and the dining and living area is all one big space. “The bathroom and my bedroom are up there.” I point to the open level overhead.
Richie drops his bag and paces over to look out through the large windows at the river. He lets out a long breath. “Can I live here?”
Yes, please. I only smile in answer.
“Are you sure you didn’t suspect the attraction to guys thing even a bit, because this place is styled …” He lifts his hand and forms an okay sign.
“Are you sure you didn’t?” I throw back. “You’re in my apartment, and the first thing you do is compliment the styling. You can thank my mother for that.”
He rubs his hair awkwardly, and the tops of his cheeks darken. Damn, that’s cute. “Yeah, I’m going to be real here. I’m completely out of my element.”
“Funny that. Me too.” It doesn’t seem like he’s going to take charge though. “How about you order something to be delivered, and I’ll grab some drinks.”
Relief floods his features. “Sounds good.”
I grab a bottle of vodka and pour a little into two glasses, then follow them up with Coke. I honestly can’t remember the last time I was this nervous to be spending time with someone, and even though I want to puke, there’s a tingle of possibility there too. Which is ridiculous considering I just spent two nights with the guy, and I wasn’t nervous at all.
Richie calls out for my address, so I give it to him, and by the time I head back out, he has made himself comfortable on my couch.
I sit down beside him, maybe a little too close, and hand over his drink.
Richie knocks his glass against mine. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
We lock eyes as we both take a slow sip, and a little excitement starts to overcome the nervousness. I set my glass on the table.
Richie’s arm shifts where it’s stretched across the back of the couch, and when I sit back, his thumb finds my shoulder. His touch is light as he starts to draw circles against my skin.
“I was reading back over some of our messages while I waited for you.”
“Really, why?”
“Now I know who you are, the messages feel different.”
“Umm … in a bad way?”
“No. It’s like I hear them in your voice now. And the thing is, if you were messaging anyone else, they probably would have guessed who you were. You didn’t give me a name, but you gave more details than you should have if you wanted to stay secret.”