Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Dude…I just…you guys were young when you had me. I’m going to go to college and do a whole lot of shit you guys didn’t get a chance to do.”
“Not too much,” I interrupt.
“Oh, a whole lot,” he teases. “Seriously though, I know you guys love each other, and I know you guys have always been happy, but I also know a lot of what you did in your life has been because of me. I just think you should be enjoying yourself a little more. I’ll be right back.” Zane stands up and disappears down the hallway. He comes back a moment later and tosses something into my lap.
I look down at the box of condoms there. “You gave me a box of those when I turned fifteen—told me that you didn’t want me having sex but if I did, you wanted me to be safe. You did your job. You raised me right. Go take classes or go meet women. I plan to meet a lot of women in college. Hopefully often.”
“Oh God.” I drop my head against the back of the couch. “Not too often. You’re really trying to give me a heart attack today.” But I’ve always been a realist. I’ve never believed in pretending kids aren’t out there doing what we don’t want them to do because I know I was. And I always want Zane to know he can come to me.
“I’ll take care of my responsibilities. I learned that from both of you. I’ll do well in college because neither of you had the chance to go to school carefree, but I’m going to have some fun, Dad, and you need to get your old ass out there and start doing it yourself. Speaking of which,” he grabs the condoms back. “I will probably need these. I just used them for dramatic effect.”
A rumbling laugh starts in my chest and pushes past my lips. Jesus, he’s a good kid.
“You guys did your job. I’m a happy, well-adjusted eighteen-year-old. Stop working so much and stressing about my schooling and money—Mom told me, by the way—and grab life by the balls. You’re always telling me to do that. Now it’s your turn.”
He’s the second person in one day to tell me something similar. The second person when I’ve been losing my fucking mind about Derek all day.
“How’d you get so smart?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “I had a great role model. My dad is the best. Now can you please take me out for pizza? I’m starved.”
I smile. “Yeah, I can take you out for dinner.”
When Zane and I are done eating and I’m on my way back to Atlanta, I pick up my phone and call Derek, trying to do as my son said and grab life by the balls. It goes straight to voicemail. “I know you’re freaking out as much as I am, but…let’s just have fun. I wanna have fun with you, Derek.” I deserve it. “And we’re taking that class. I don’t care if I have to carry your little ass there. You’re the one who climbed into my Jeep that night and now you’re stuck figuring this shit out with me too.”
16
Derek
It’s been three days since I’ve listened to Jackson’s message.
He wants to have fun with me? When I think of fun, I think about him shoving me up against a wall and pulling my hair while his cock slams against my prostate. I don’t think about tango classes, which is like the datiest thing in the world.
Gross.
I haven’t gone on an actual date since Christian. I’ve hooked up with plenty of guys. Had more serious hookups that I hoped might evolve into something more, but we never went on any dates.
This is totally unfamiliar territory for me. I’m used to understanding what’s going on.
Sex is easy. Top, bottom, condoms, lube…and me giving a guy the best night of his life. That, I get. But taking tango classes with a guy I like being around, but not just as a friend and who I want to fuck but never get to fuck? I don’t get that.
Jackson’s an incredible guy, and I’m sure a god in the bedroom, but what he wants isn’t something I can give him. And even worse, when I listened to his voicemail, it wasn’t that I didn’t want what he was talking about. It’s that I did, and that scares the fucking shit out of me. He wants to get to know me, but he doesn’t understand that when he finds out who I really am, it’s not going to be pretty. It’s not going to be this fun, frisky kid he’s used to seeing. And he’ll leave. Just like everyone else has.
He’s called and texted since that message. I responded via text to let him know I’m busy right now. I had to say something. I didn’t want him to worry about me because I know how he is. How he cares.