Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“I’m not into all that.” Maddox rubbed at his regrowing hair. He’d finally taken a look at himself in the mirror—really looked. Patchy hair, coming back in uneven clumps. Angry red scar up one cheekbone and temple, ending in a deep gouge above his ear. Other minor scars on his neck and scalp. If he was going to do pictures, they were going to need to be old ones. Like the ones Ben had taken surfing last year—
Stop thinking about Ben. Stop it. They’d been dancing around each other for days now, a weird mix of working together to help each other with their injuries and avoidance the rest of the time. It was time for him to move forward.
Pike pulled into the apartment complex, coming around to help him with the scooter before he could even ask.
“In a hurry to get home to lover boy?” he joked as he got his leg situated.
“Well, thanks to you, I do have a nice surprise.” Pike winked. “Not that I need help...”
“Spare me the details.” Maddox laughed as they said their goodbyes and he headed up the sidewalk to the apartment. It took some juggling to open the door while leaning on the scooter, and he almost landed in a heap on the threshold, saving himself at the last minute by grabbing on to the door jam.
“Whoa,” he said as he righted himself. He inhaled deeply out of relief, but instead of the scent of the citrus cleaner he’d used that morning, he was hit with the smell of roast chicken and something sweet—not cake, but something fruity.
“You’re home.” Ben came out of the kitchen right as Maddox turned the corner to investigate the good smells. Ben didn’t cook. Like ever. Ben microwaved and Ben ordered in and Ben ate every scrap Maddox put in front of him, but Ben didn’t cook. And Ben certainly didn’t set the table, but that’s exactly what greeted Maddox in the dining area, a perfectly set table with his best dishes. Candles even and food in serving pieces, not takeout containers.
“What the heck? Are we having company?” Maddox blinked. “Are you having company?” This was way more trouble than he’d ever seen Ben go through for a hookup, but he wasn’t ruling it out.
“Nope, just us.” Ben’s cheeks were a dusky shade. “Thought it might be nice.”
Maddox blinked again, resisting the urge to check his friend for fever. “And you cooked?”
“Well...reheated, really. Got most of it from Sprouts in the ready-to-eat section.” Ben looked adorably sheepish, something Maddox had never seen on him before.
“And you’re doing this...why?” Maddox contemplated the table and how nice everything looked—white dishes and tempting food and even the cloth napkins he wasn’t aware Ben even knew he owned. “Did you dent my truck? Get orders to report to Little Creek?”
Oh please not that last one. They’d been so lucky all these years to serve alongside each other. He wasn’t sure how he’d bear Ben being stationed on the opposite coast.
“Do I need to have done something awful?” Ben pulled out a chair and indicated that Maddox should sit. He brought over a spare chair for Maddox’s leg. “This is me doing something...nice. Because of what you said.”
“What I said?” Maddox’s eyes narrowed as he studied Ben, who was still far pinker than normal.
“You said you want to date, right?” Ben sounded more than a little defensive.
“Yeah...” Maddox was seriously struggling to keep up. He fiddled with the fork at his place setting, making no move to go for the food.
“So I think you should. Date, that is.”
“And this is what? Practice?” Which was sweet, really, but so totally unlike Ben that Maddox had no clue what space alien had replaced his best friend.
“No. I mean...I think you should date. Date me. We should date.”
Maddox dropped the fork, and his jaw followed it on the tumble to the carpeted floor. He wasn’t sure he had a reply for this.
Chapter Thirteen
“You want us to date?” Maddox was blinking so rapidly that Ben feared for risk of stroke. “As in you and me? Together? Each other?”
“It’s not such a ludicrous proposition.” Ben sat in the chair opposite Maddox because looming over him wasn’t working out so well. Actually, this whole thing wasn’t exactly going to plan. Maddox was supposed to be happy. Grateful even. They were maybe supposed to be kissing by now. Or eating. One of those. Not this skeptical narrowing of the eyes and distrustful tone.
“But you don’t date. You have zero interest in a relationship. Tell me how this doesn’t kill our friendship dead?” Maddox grabbed a piece of the bread, shredding it onto his plate instead of eating it.
“Tell me our friendship isn’t already weird,” Ben countered. “The way I see it, this can’t make anything worse. And it’s true that I haven’t been the most...positive about relationships—”