Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
But I had, and it had weighed me down all night, then all day. He hadn’t spoken at all, hadn’t mumbled soft words or let loose the gravelly moans of need that were in all his other videos. That’s what it was, wasn’t it? Sam hadn’t seemed to take pleasure in it the way he usually did.
Would he lack that same passion, that same joy in sensuality and satisfaction when he was with whatever man he found? I was obsessing about him—if recording with someone was what he really wanted, what kind of man would he find, and would that man realize what he had in Sam? I didn’t know him, not in the ways that mattered, but there was an innocence to him that was impossible to miss. He worked hard, needed money for whatever reason. He liked to make people laugh and had terrible taste in jokes, but no matter how bad they were, you couldn’t help smiling because he looked so earnest when he told them.
Somehow, I’d felt even more lonely the past few weeks without his random visits, without him dropping off my packages or bringing dinner, even though I’d been an asshole to him every time.
The last thing Sam needed was to get tangled up with someone like me. I had nothing to give. Anything of substance inside me had seeped out over the years, a slow leak I hadn’t realized was draining me. When Daniel died, the hole burst open, taking the rest of me with it.
Still…I was curious. Sam was intriguing.
Late that night, near closing time of the diner, I ordered two meals and paid extra for a late delivery, telling myself it was just because I was worried about him. Because there were men out there like whoever had killed Daniel, and men like me, who made it easy for that to happen.
That was only a partial truth, though. I called the diner for me, because I wasn’t ready for the loneliness to swallow me down just yet.
On the front porch, there were two rocking chairs I never used—when I sat outside, it was usually out back—but I sat in one now, waiting.
Thirty minutes later, headlights broke through the black night. Wheels crunched against gravel, the toads and crickets singing along with the sound. Tree shadows danced in the beam of headlights from a car that might not even be his. Maybe it was better if it wasn’t, but I had a feeling if not, I’d call again tomorrow, and the next day, just keep on calling until Sam showed.
When the truck turned off, the night felt quieter than it had before he’d come, and the only thing breaking up the darkness was the glow of the porch light. He didn’t get out right away, but then he did, bag in hand, a backward ball cap on his head, and with a tentative smile that he clearly hoped looked more confident than it did.
“You ordered two meals. You got company tonight?”
“I do now,” I replied, the words tasting foreign on my tongue.
“What if I have to go back to the diner? Or if I have plans?”
“Then I guess I ordered extra food for nothing, and I’d try again tomorrow.”
This time when his smile stretched across his face, it was real, the corners curling high, a spark of excitement in his eyes.
“You’re easy to read,” I told him.
“That just proves you don’t know me at all. Maybe I try and hide certain things a little less around you, hopin’ it’ll get me what I want, but I’m real good at concealin’ what I don’t want people to see.”
What don’t you want people to see? sat at the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed the question instead of setting it free.
I’d always been pretty good at seeing people for who they were, at understanding what I needed to about them, but I couldn’t fit the pieces of Sam together. “Do you have to go back to work? Or do you have plans?”
“I do now,” he returned the statement I’d given him just moments before. Jesus, I couldn’t wrap my head around him. How he could seem so shy and inexperienced one moment, then flirtatious and going for what he wanted the next.
Without my prompting, Sam opened the door and went into my house. I waited for annoyance to hit me, but it didn’t, and I found myself standing and following him inside.
He was at the table, pulling from the bag the two plastic containers of roast-beef sandwiches and fries that were likely already cold. I got silverware, and two beers from the fridge when he said, “I don’t drink.” I didn’t really either, not anymore. I didn’t know why I grabbed them tonight or why I bought them in the first place. Just to feel normal?