Love and History (The Script Club #6) Read Online Lane Hayes

Categories Genre: Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: The Script Club Series by Lane Hayes
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Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
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This was a good time to transport myself into a different world where I could be someone else for a while. A super-genius mathematician, physicist, biologist who’d lived and died and didn’t have to deal with human limitations and frailties.

Being a regular guy with regular worries kind of sucked.

Needless to say, my mind was a jumbled mess when I pulled into the parking lot. It only made sense that I was late to rehearsal.

I set the hat on the passenger seat and slipped my computer bag strap over my shoulder before gathering my binder and—

“Yo, there he is. How’s it hangin’, Shakespeare?”

I shut the car door with a start and pivoted toward Ezra, who was leaning against his black SUV.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had a study group.” I adjusted my glasses, knocking my strap off my shoulder.

“I couldn’t stay away.” He lowered his sunglasses and flashed a winning smile. It was like being hit with a bolt of lightning out of the blue. And when he stepped into my space and set my strap over my shoulder again, I thought I might faint.

“Why are you really here?” I choked out.

He rubbed his nape and let out a strained half laugh. “The traffic from LA was light and I’m studied out, so I thought I’d see what the geek squad was up to.”

“LA?” As if that were somehow important.

Oh my gosh, where is my mind today? If this was what a bagel did to me, I was in big trouble.

“Yeah, I met Cole in Santa Monica to sign the paperwork for the new place.”

Oh.

He hadn’t said much about the house they’d looked at yesterday. Or maybe he had, and I’d been too mesmerized by his large penis and talented tongue to compute.

“Well, congratulations.”

“Meh, it’s no big deal. It’s good to have one worry out of the way, though. I’ll be paying rent for two places in August, which sucks, but on the bright side, I can take my time moving.”

My heart sank, but I smiled anyway. I wasn’t going to try to process my contrary thoughts. “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. Anyway, I thought I’d swing by and catch the end of rehearsal, but—” He glanced toward the entrance, nodding when Winston called out a greeting. “It looks like it hasn’t started yet.”

“Val had a meeting with our volunteers first.”

He twitched his nose. “Ah, so…you didn’t meet any of them yourself?”

“No, I just got here and I’m running a little late. Why?”

“Well…this is a weird one. My boss’s daughter is one of your students and she’s not doing well in your class. I think she’s looking for extra credit and may end up volunteering here to get it. So…heads up,” he said in a rush.

“I teach science. I can’t give extra credit for participation in a Renaissance fair.” I frowned. “Your boss’s daughter? Who is she?”

“Mallory Rossman.”

Huh. Mallory Rossman. Physics. Front row near the window, dark hair, glasses, pretty, asks a lot of questions.

“That’s a funny coincidence.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“She asked about extra credit earlier today. I already told her volunteering wasn’t a feasible option.”

“Good. I don’t want to be the middle of that,” he commented with an exasperated half laugh.

“Middle of what?”

“She’s transferring and my boss wants her to do well. I think he’s one of those overly involved dads. But that’s their deal, not mine, and—”

“Holden! Ezra!” Presley called from the entrance. “We bought pizza. Are you a pepperoni man or do you like pineapple and ham, Ezra?”

“Pineapple say what?” He made a choking noise Presley found hysterical.

I moved around them in a daze as my brain tried to process the new intel.

Mallory Rossman was Ezra’s boss’s daughter.

The one he wanted to set Ezra up with.

Geesh, she was pretty too. Not that I was jealous. No sirree. I had no reason to be. It was just…odd.

I didn’t have much of an appetite, but I helped myself to a slice of pizza and joined the dozen or so members sitting in a circle on cold metal chairs, discussing to-do items for the upcoming event. I picked at my pepperoni and stole clandestine glances at Presley and Ezra, chatting amicably on the far side of the stage while mulling over Ezra’s unexpected connection to one of my less gifted students.

Talk about a small world. And a sharp reminder of the reality that existed outside of our bubble. Bosses, jobs, students, lovers.

I refocused on Presley’s gold hoops glinting under the bright lights as she nodded at whatever Ezra was saying. She looked particularly smiley and agreeable and I couldn’t blame her. It was the Ezra effect. Now that my immunity had been compromised, I was aware of his magnetic qualities—his easy humor, sharp wit, and the way he leaned in as if he didn’t want to miss a word.


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