Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
I fixated on the corner of his mouth, fascinated by his ability to make chewing a fucking tortilla seem sexy. “It’s what you ordered. I just told them to put ‘Spicy’ stickers on it.”
He tilted his head curiously and smiled. “You’re weird.”
“I know. Keep talking. Do you live in Long Beach?”
“No.”
“So, you plan on commuting every day from Orange?”
“Yep.”
I gave him a sharp look. “Cut the one-word replies. I don’t have time for twenty questions, and you aren’t a guest on Good Morning America. Get talkin’, Jameson. We don’t have all damn day.”
He looked like he was poised to unleash some serious snark, but he froze when he met my gaze…and something happened.
I suddenly felt breathless and lightheaded. I would have blamed it on the heat or exhaustion or any other lame excuse, except my dick swelled too. It was like there was an invisible conduit between his lips and my cock. The pull was so strong, I felt dizzy for a second.
“What’s the matter?” he asked softly.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“You look confused and a little spaced-out, like you just—”
“I’m fine,” I intercepted. “Get talking. The job, the commute, Harry…”
“There’s not much more to say. Except I start on Monday.”
“This is your interview, part two. Take it seriously. Tell me your name, your birthday, where you were born, etcetera.”
“What part of ‘I already got the job’ don’t you get?” Sky huffed.
“What part of ‘I’m gonna kick your ass if you don’t cooperate’ don’t you get?”
He furrowed his brow angrily. “I can’t tell if you hate me or if you hate that you like me. Whatever. My birthday is June twenty-sixth. I’m from Boise, but I’m newly emancipated from my family, so this is home now. I live in Orange and room with one of the guys on my team. Micah’s a total pig. I’m gonna try to find another living situation ASAP, but it may have to wait till January. Hmm. Let’s see…my dream job is to play shortstop for the Dodgers and my backup is something in finance. Don’t ask me what. I don’t want to think about it until March.”
“What happens in March?”
“It’s the halfway mark in my final season. If any scouts are interested in me, I’ll know by then. If not, I need a real job.” Sky sipped his Diet Coke. “What else do you want to know?”
I bit into my burrito and took my time chewing before asking, “What do you mean by emancipated?”
Sky made a slash across the throat motion. “Adios, amigo. Later, alligator.”
I frowned. “Did your parents kick you out?”
“You could say that,” he replied nonchalantly as he pulled his cell from his pocket and scrolled through his messages.
The not-so-subtle brush-off clearly indicated it was time to switch topics. That was cool. We weren’t buddies. I only needed enough personal info to make sure he wasn’t a psycho. Sky seemed harmless enough. In fact, he looked like a spoiled country club dweeb. The kind who wore striped V-neck sweaters and white jeans while they sipped champagne and chatted up girls with fake nails and plastic smiles. He had an air of entitlement about him that made me want to kick him in the nuts…or maybe just order extra hot sauce for his burrito. Yet he was sharp around the edges too. Something told me that big ol’ chip on his shoulders was courtesy of some family bullshit. I could totally relate.
So I wasn’t sure why I didn’t let it go. “Why?”
He flashed a feral grin. “Is that really any of your business?”
“No. I’m just curious. Emancipation sounds so…legal. Like you divorced your parents.”
“I guess I did.” Sky regarded me thoughtfully, then glanced down at his cell. “So what else did you want to know? Let’s see…I’m a Star Wars and Star Trek geek. I love comics too. Old ones. Batman is my favorite, which is weird ’cause I’m really more of a Marvel guy.”
“Of course you are,” I huffed derisively. “The movies are good, but DC has better superheroes…by far.”
“Who? Superman?” he asked sarcastically.
“Yeah, and The Flash, Aquaman, Green Lantern…”
“You did not just say Green Lantern. That’s embarrassing,” he scoffed.
“Hey, Green Lantern is powerful.”
“Yeah, but only if he’s wearing a fuckin’ ring. C’mon, that’s hokey. Admit it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. But Batman makes up for all the lame ones. Not that it matters. We weren’t talking about superheroes anyway.”
“What were we talking about?”
“Your parents.”
He lowered his gaze and tapped a message on his phone dismissively. “I’m done talking about parents. Unless you want to talk about yours.”
“No, thanks.”
“I didn’t think so.”
I felt an unreasonable urge to start a fight. It was childish and seriously immature, but I itched to grab him, body-slam him, or do something to get his undivided attention…and all his fucking secrets. That last thought hit me like a rogue wave, leaving me sputtering and confused. Again.