Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 136029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“Yeah, of course, Summers.” Maximoff abandons the bread. “You can ask us anything.”
He tucks his longish brown hair behind his ears. “So like, if I’ve been watching porn for an hour every week is that too much?”
I try really hard not to smile in amusement. This is not the road I thought he was driving down.
“I don’t think so.” Maximoff glances to me, tagging me in because he didn’t recreationally watch porn growing up.
“Thank God for my normal adolescent behavior,” I tell him before telling his brother. “You’re not over-killing the porn game. An hour a week is basically tame.”
“What’s too much?” he asks me, not his brother.
Maximoff is smiling this soft smile at the wall. I’m guessing he’s happy his teenage brother is seeking me out for this shit, and I am too.
“You don’t need to worry about the amount right now,” I tell Xander. “Just ask yourself a set of questions.” I motion to him with my apple. “Is watching porn an hour a week impeding your life?”
“No.”
“Why are you watching it?”
He shrugs. “I was curious, and I liked how it…you know. Made me feel.” His neck reddens.
“Are you using porn to avoid something?” I ask one last question.
“No.”
“There you go. Your porn usage is healthy.” I bite into my apple.
He nods in thanks, the microwave beeps, but he waits to collect his Hot Pocket. “Also, I can’t go to that thing tomorrow.”
I chew slowly. “You mean my birthday party?” I invited Maximoff’s siblings and some other people to Superheroes & Scones tomorrow. I just wanted something low-key. No hassle or big deal.
“Yeah, that. I can’t go.”
Maximoff frowns at Xander. “Why not?”
He lets out a long sigh. “Uh, because I’ve gained way too much muscle working out with you two and boxing, and I’m so over the fucking paparazzi hounding me about it.” He weighs options on his hands, miming scales. “Either I don’t workout anymore or I don’t go out in public tomorrow, and you should be happy I’m choosing the second option.”
Maximoff gestures to his brother. “Temporary solution: you could wear baggier clothes.”
Xander grabs his Hot Pocket and slams the microwave. “No, I’m over it, Moffy. They can suck my dick.” He exits, and I force down a laugh.
Maximoff stares hard at the door his brother went through. “I can’t tell if he’s giving a middle finger to the media or if he’s hermit-ing.”
“The former,” I say. “And hermit-ing isn’t a word.”
He glares at the ceiling, then digs in his pocket. Someone texted him. He goes rigid. “They’re not Luna or Kinney’s tabloids.”
Shit.
Our eyes collide with the same realization. They have to belong to either his mom or his dad, and after their fight this morning, this isn’t adding up to anything good.
“It’ll blow by,” Maximoff assures me. “It always does. They can handle whatever’s happening.”
“Yeah.” My brows lift. “But what’s happening?”
He shakes his head, then freezes.
“What is it?”
“I bet they’re upset about the whole Luna-being-a-sex-addict rumors. That has to be it.”
We could ask, but I don’t like prying unless it’s needed. Their private business is their private business. Not mine.
“It’ll blow by,” Maximoff repeats with tough resilience.
3
FARROW KEENE
“OSCAR! FARROW! PAUL!” Fans and paparazzi shriek as we squeeze through pushing crowds, cameras flashing and glaring in the night.
None of us politely wave like we’re English dignitary or play “best friends” with strangers. It’s almost like we’re back at Yale together, bar hopping and staying unbothered by the drunk fuckers who try to start shit.
With no hassle, I unpocket a set of keys and unlock the storefront of Superheroes & Scones. Closing hours at the hybrid comic book coffee shop is the only time we can really consider going off-duty here.
We slip inside the empty store, and I lock out the screaming.
“Who’s Paul?” Oscar banters, tying a rolled bandana around his forehead.
I laugh into a widening smile, and Donnelly blows him a middle-finger kiss. I flip on the lights. Illuminating red and blue vinyl booths and racks of comics and merch.
But we go quiet at another sight.
Silver buffet trays line the café bar counter, and the unmistakable scent of breakfast clings to the air. My eyes burn with emotion.
Wolf scout.
My chest uplifts in a deeper breath. There’s no one else who’d surprise me with a catered spread of my favorite foods. He’s not even here yet, and he’s already made my 29th birthday memorable.
Oscar smiles. “You lucky bastard.”
“Jealous?” My lips rise, and we both watch Donnelly near the catered trays.
“Yeah. I miss being in a serious relationship. Sex is great and easy to find, but it’s nothing without the rest.”
“No shit.” I’ve never been into no-strings attached situations. It works for some people, but definitely not for me. I like having a boyfriend.
And I love being in a relationship with Maximoff.
Oscar outstretches his hand to the counters. “I can’t even find one person to toast me a fucking piece of bread, and your guy is buying you IHOP on steroids.”