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)
“That was my first thought. Transfer to McGill with Zach. Or go to Concordia if Zach wants his space. I’ve looked into it. The courses are a little different, but most of my core subjects are the same.”
“You should do it.”
I am seriously thinking about it. The problem is, I have friends here and my parents and an apartment I love. Zach doesn’t have any of that. Other than Ray and me, Zach doesn’t like making friends. He lives on campus, and his parents are in Wisconsin. He’ll be happy communicating through text and hiding away in a room with his books, knowing Foster will be home at the end of the day.
Can I do that?
Move, just for Richie, narrowing my entire world down to him, Zach, and my brother. Potentially changing my degree and what I want to do with my life.
But if he stays here, isn’t he doing the same thing?
One step at a time.
“I’m thinking about it,” I tell Foster before he has to go.
Having some kind of plan helps to get me through the afternoon. I know there’s no point asking Richie to apply again because he’ll tell me he doesn’t want to cause more issues with me and Foster, which makes me fall in love with him even more.
And makes me more determined to do this for him.
I’m late getting home from a meeting with my advisor, and since tonight is one of the nights Richie is staying over, I can’t put my plan into action yet. I have no idea how late practice will run, but I’m expecting him any minute.
When Richie eventually shows, tired as hell, he pulls me in close and kicks the door closed behind us. It’s already late, and their coach is working them hard in preparation for regionals. “I’m so glad I’m here.” Even his kisses feel exhausted. They’re slow and sweet.
I smile against his lips. “Come on, sleepy.”
We stumble to my bed, and I start to undress him, knowing how he likes to sleep naked. I’ve shut down any hopes of sex, even though he won’t let me out of his arms. His lips run down my neck, his hands close over my ass, and my dick protests against my decision.
Once Richie’s buck naked, I nudge him gently back into bed and cover him with the comforter, then strip to my briefs and crawl in next to him.
“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he murmurs, his hand pawing weakly at my junk.
I laugh and link my fingers through his. “Okay, sweetheart. It’s cute you think that.”
He hums and hugs me closer, slurring something sleepily that I can’t make out. I rest my face on his chest, not tired at all, but needing the closeness. Because I know what I’m about to do borders on the line of deceitful.
Which makes me feel like a dick.
But when it comes to Richie, I want him to have it all. I’m still working out all the details, but if this job is going to be a possibility, he can’t take any more time thinking about it. I won’t resent him for taking it, and I need him to know that.
Even if it means breaking up.
My heart doesn’t like that option, so I just have to work my ass off to make sure it doesn’t happen. Richie deserves to have a career he’s passionate about. What he does next is bigger than me and him—but that won’t stop me fighting for there to be a me and him when he finds out what I’ve done.
I’m not an idiot—I know he’s going to be pissed. I also know that I love him so much, I want him to have all the options in front of him before he makes hard and fast choices.
I’d do anything to make him happy. Anything to give him the world.
I can’t give him the world. But I can maybe give him this.
Richie’s breathing evens out, and I lie there for a little while longer, enjoying his warmth.
Then, when I’m sure he’s not going to wake up, I climb slowly out of bed and sit at my desk. I open my laptop and log in, checking quickly that Richie is still completely out of it.
All those times Richie used my laptop to search for jobs means his resume is saved to my desktop. After giving it a quick cleanup and formatting it more professionally, I open my email and send it off to Foster.
When the notification comes up to show that it’s been sent, I let out a long breath. It’s done. Maybe Richie will totally hate me for it, but maybe this will be the push he needs.
At the end of the day, if he gets an interview, or even offered the job, he doesn’t have to take it. Refusing to even apply takes that option away from him.