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)
It was nothing more than a simple press of lips, but it felt like the earth moved. I saw stars and moonbeams and to be perfectly honest, I think my heart stopped. That was the only explanation I had for feeling centered and overwhelmed at once.
“Here are your nachos. Enjoy.”
I released Braden and turned to glance up at Drew. “Um, thanks.”
He spared me a cutting once-over before moving to the next table.
“Oh, wow,” Braden said in an awed whisper. “Well, that should do the trick.”
I let out a shaky half chuckle. “Sorry. That was…”
“Acting. We’re both better at it than we thought.” He gestured to the small plates at the end of the table. “Pass one over, please. And let me personally thank you in advance. If I get that part, I’m gonna nail it.”
I was too stunned to make any smartass comments about nailing anything. I wordlessly handed him a plate and greeted Tucker with an absent nod when he rejoined us. I did my best to keep up with the conversation and hum in the right places. I eventually snuck a sideways peek at Braden. Of course, he caught my stare.
He nudged my knee under the table and smiled reassuringly. I didn’t think I could be more confused if I tried. I was grateful he went with the flow and didn’t make a big deal out of the rogue kiss, but I was a little concerned that I couldn’t seem to do the same. I had to get over it fast. The last thing I needed was a complicated roommate situation. And lusting after a straight dude was the ultimate complication.
2
Braden
Living in Long Beach was better than I expected. The location was great, the fact that I didn’t have to commit to a one-year lease was even better, and bonus…I liked Elliot. I couldn’t believe he was that Elliot. He’d always struck me as a good-natured goofball when our teams played in college…quick with a smile or a silly joke. A laid-back guy like him should be easy to cohabitate with for a short stint. The only thing that worried me was the intense sense of awareness I felt around him.
It had to be that kiss. I had to get it out of my head. Until I figured out how, I purposely avoided spending too much time in the apartment.
The kiss had been quick and almost innocent…and yeah, I’d practically goaded him into it, but he was the one who jumped on top of me, melded his body to mine and plundered my mouth with his talented tongue.
Fine. That didn’t happen. It was a friendly kiss meant to scare off an old boyfriend. It was my idea, and it worked. Drew looked bummed as hell, and Elliot just looked…dazed. I couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing, so I steered clear.
The other reason I avoided the apartment was…and there was really no nice way to say this…Elliot was a pig.
Not joking. He was the kind of guy who’d shed clothing the second he walked through the door. He’d dump his bag in the foyer and kick his flip-flops off in the living room, then tug his sweaty T-shirt over his head and fling it toward the sofa or a barstool in the kitchen. That was better than wiping his pits with it and leaving it on the counter…and yeah, he did that too.
Elliot was also a “drink from the carton” kind of guy. He’d stand in front of the open refrigerator, chugging half a gallon of OJ, before swiping his forearm over his mouth and twisting the cap on again. Not always securely, either. I almost doused myself when I moved his OJ to make space for my yogurt. I supposed it was nice that he made the effort to put the top on at all since he rarely, if ever, put the cap back on his toothpaste. And he was a middle-of-the-tube squeezer. It wasn’t my toothpaste, so maybe I shouldn’t care, but hey, middle-squeezers were a breed of their own.
Look, I knew I had issues with extremes. I never claimed to be perfect, but basic cleanliness was important. No one wanted to walk into a steamy bathroom and set a fresh towel on top of a glob of toothpaste or trip over a pile of someone else’s discarded clothing on their way to use the toilet.
I’d winced through the clothes-flinging and OJ-slugging during week one and gritted my teeth through toothpaste smudges on countertops in a towel-strewn bathroom during week two, but I knew I’d have to say something…eventually.
Other than being a tad gross, Elliot was sweet and fun. I liked him. As a friend.
He had a gregarious, lighthearted personality that drew people in. And I wasn’t immune. Okay, so he had an issue with picking up his shit, but in other ways, he went out of his way to be thoughtful. He asked about my day and remembered quirky details. If I said I was visiting my parents, he’d ask how my visit went and if I’d sat in traffic. If I went to bed before he did, he made sure to turn the volume down on the television and lock up. He wasn’t as great about turning off lights, but that was a minor offense, comparatively speaking.