Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 137135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
I breathe a sigh of relief when his response comes in.
RomanticSadistLL:
Not quick EVER. Friendship and desire first. Mind before body. Always. The things I enjoy and need make that a requirement. It’s why I’ve pressed to meet you in person, because it’s impossible to truly feel someone’s energy over messaging.
I need to process what he just said, so I get back on my TikTok and mindlessly scroll through my own videos. If he’s being honest and that’s the real reason he wants to meet in person, then that’s a totally valid explanation. He’s right. I was literally just thinking that before I received his first message, that maybe I couldn’t feel chemistry with anyone through a computer or phone screen.
But it would be so disheartening to finally meet him in person after crushing on him from afar for so long, and him decide there’s no desire on his end. An unrequited love story is not what I had in mind for my first book idea in nine months.
“Instalove or die,” I murmur Vi’s and my mantra for our storylines.
But that’s fiction. I’m not sure instalove exists in real life. I may be smitten kitten over Gym Daddy, but it’s not a love at first sight thing, I don’t think. I’m infatuated, for sure. Have a hardcore crush because of how fucking attractive he is. But instalove? If anything, that would definitely have to be discovered in an in-person situation.
Yet… is it just because I find him hot beyond belief that I’m so infatuated? I see ridiculously good-looking men all the time. At the gym. At the club. Hell, it’s literally part of my job to be surrounded by gorgeous, Adonis-bodied male cover models. And never once has any of those men had the effect on me Gym Daddy does. His face is the only one I’ve consciously pictured as I made myself come.
His face is the only one.
That’s not to say I haven’t imagined Dream Daddy more times than could be considered respectful. No, I definitely fantasize about that man doing very disrespectful things to my body, but since I have no idea what he looks like, he’s faceless while I imagine the filthy things he’d make me do.
But the man I’m currently messaging with, while his face and the rest of him are downright beautiful, that shouldn’t be anything very special to me. That shouldn’t be remarkable in any way, since I’m overexposed to hot guys, jaded, desensitized to the effects male beauty can have on a woman.
So there must be something more about him that I’m not consciously aware of. There must be something else at work when my eyes connect with him. Even across an entire gym, through all the equipment, between and past all the other stupidly fit and good-looking people, when my eyes land on Gym Daddy, I not only feel those infamous butterflies everyone always talks about, but I have an actual physiological response. My heart races, and it has nothing to do with moseying along on the treadmill without even an incline set. My skin prickles, and it’s not because of the AC pumping out onto the workout floor. My breathing becomes quick and shallow, my panties are suddenly wet, and it’s not a rare thing for a whimper or moan to come out of my mouth without my consent. All just from spotting that man I’ve never even spoken to in person before. I don’t even know what his voice sounds like, since I’ve never been close to him while he’s been speaking.
“I bet it’s deep and rumbly, like what a bear-shifter would sound like if they were real,” I tell my cat, just now remembering he’s been curled up beside me this entire time.
I read through comments for a few more minutes, and then I come across the TikTok I made about a St. Andrew’s cross before the one I sent him earlier, and I snort. “What are the odds?” I copy the link and send it to him.
WillDive4Plants:
Of all the things in the universe you could’ve posted a picture of on your profile, it just so happened to be this little contraption I said just a week and half ago that I’d love to try out.
“That was pretty flirty, right?” I scratch the back of my head, my broken nails getting caught in the strands.
RomanticSadistLL:
Yes, you and I should definitely play.
“Psh!” The unladylike noise leaves my mouth as I pull a hair out of my nail that got yanked out of my messy bun. “You say that, but if you were to see what’s on the other end of the phone at the moment, you’d never trust online dating ever again, good sir.” But I don’t text that. I still have a little time I can attempt to get my life together. I mean, I could definitely summon the energy to shower at some point.