Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“Uh, no. I have practice on Wednesday night,” Braden explained.
“Oh, too bad.” She skirted the cement-block reception desk and crossed her arms. “You’ll be at the tournament next weekend, right?”
“Definitely. I wouldn’t miss it,” he said.
“Good. I’ll see you there. Elly, VIP me, please. I’d appreciate knowing where the heck I’m gonna sit.”
“Um, sure.”
“Good boy. Look for me in the stands. I’ll make some noise, so you know I’m there. Oh, and I’ll be wearing the queer T-shirt Sophie dropped off. Some rainbow deal. It’s cute, but I’m cutting mine to make room for the girls, ’cause it’s a little confining, if you know what I mean. And I might add some glitter. Is bedazzling still a thing?”
“Do I look like I’d know?” I huffed.
“Nope. What about you, Braden?”
He grinned. “Sorry. No idea.”
“What am I gonna do with you two?” She shook her head mournfully, then pointed at the door. “Outta here. I got work to do. I love you!”
Braden pursed his lips in amusement as we stepped onto the sidewalk. “She’s funny.”
“I can’t believe you’re not traumatized. I tried to hold your hand, and my mom asked you if rhinestones are still in fashion.”
He snickered. “I’ll definitely require ice cream for the bedazzling commentary, but if you still want to hold my hand, I’m okay with it.”
I stopped suddenly and grabbed his elbow to get his attention. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you didn’t want anyone to know about us.”
He pulled me out of the way of pedestrian traffic and moved into my space. “I’m not ashamed to be with you, El. I’m afraid to get too attached to you. It might be too late for that and…I’ve never held hands with a guy. So if you want to, I’m not gonna argue.”
Braden held his palm up and wiggled his fingers meaningfully. I cast my gaze from his eyes to his hand and smiled as I laced my fingers with his.
“Your hand fits mine. Like it was made for me. Not too big, not too small,” I murmured.
“Just right,” he said with a smile. “Hey, I was thinking…if you still need a date, I might be able to make it work.”
“You sure?”
He shrugged. “I’ll ask my coach. It’s preseason and it’s only one night. I think it would be okay. If it’s cool with you.”
“Fuck, I lust you,” I groaned, snaking my free arm around his waist.
“That’s beginning to sound like a serious condition.” He rubbed his stubbled jaw against mine and kissed my cheek.
“It’s crazy serious and the only way to fix it is—”
“More sex.”
“No. Be my boyfriend for the rest of the night. Help me buy a stupid shirt, then let me buy you dinner, ice cream, whatever you want…and let me hold your hand. No one knows us, and no one cares that we’re just two random dudes who kinda lust each other.”
He glanced at our entwined fingers and beamed at me. “Okay, boyfriend. Let’s go on a date.”
I’d been on my fair share of dates. In high school, I assumed taking a girl to dinner and a movie was my ticket to getting lucky. In college, I went on preplanned excursions with my girlfriend because it made her happy. But I never really understood the spirit of dating until now. Spending time doing things that were a little outside of the norm with someone who made my heart do backflips was an incredible rush.
We didn’t do anything special, really. We went to the shop on the corner at my mom’s suggestion. Braden bought a classic blue gingham button-down he claimed he needed and helped me choose a loud Hawaiian print. For some reason, we took the Hawaiian theme with us for the rest of the night. We popped into various stores on the Strand, discussing places we wanted to visit and food we never liked.
We ordered blue Hawaiian drinks and watched the sunset from a rooftop bar, then discussed the wisdom of putting pineapple on pizza as we dined on sushi. And even though we were both full, we stopped for ice cream. We held hands on top of the table and continued a stream of conversation, flittering from one nonsensical topic to the next. I couldn’t tell you what we said. The words weren’t important. They were threads of a fabric that drew us together. They gave us a reason and a purpose, but the real magic was just being with him.
I loved his smile, his laugh, and the way his eyes lit up before he called me on whatever bullshit story I made up. I loved the way he looked at me when he didn’t think I was watching…like he thought I might be someone special. It made me wish I had more time to prove I could be someone worthy of him if we both gave us a chance.