Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Joey: Like, WTF is that even? Fucking diabolical, that’s what. How can I sleep with his song in my head?
Joey: BTW, what kind of lube do gay guys use? Just curious.
Joey: Also… how do you know if a guy likes you? I mean, the kind of like where he wants to rail you into a mattress? Everyone says girls are hard to read, but dudes are waaaay more complex.
I tried hard not to connect these dots to form a picture… and failed.
The texts from my parents were a whole lot less amusing. And in fact, I found myself stifling a groan.
“Problem?” Bash asked. “Something from the investigator?”
“No, no, nothing about that at all. Just messages from my parents.”
“Ah. They must miss you.”
“Maybe. My mother’s worried that I’ve joined a cult or ‘fallen in with a bad crowd.’ Dad says Bobby needs another guy at the Tech Barn, and he’s talking about hiring one of our neighbors.” I clicked my phone off and slid it into my pocket. “I need to call them, but not right now.” That would pop this bubble instantly. “Wanna go?”
“Yeah.” Bash carried our dishes to the sink.
“No second thoughts?” I teased.
“About letting you have your way?” He shook his head as he walked back to me. “I know what I’m in for. Remember, I’ve seen you in a bunny bow tie, pulling rainbow-colored hankies out of your pocket at the MoMA.”
I stared at him. No doubt my face was turning scarlet right before his eyes. “You… you saw that? Oh my god. I was so embarrassed. Stupid Joey and his stupid magician tux.” I took a breath. “At least it was colorful.”
Bash’s bark of laughter made my heart skip several quick beats like a smooth stone skipping brightly over still water.
This. Him.
Him.
I wanted more time with him like I wanted to breathe clean air… like I wanted to splash bright colors across this stark house, like I wanted to run pell-mell down the beach with Bash hot on my heels, like I wanted to put Project Daisy Chain out into the world and watch others thrive.
“You ready?” he asked, pushing back from the table and raising his eyebrows.
“So ready,” I said, and in that moment, I meant it. If Bash wanted to fly me to the moon, I would go.
I pushed the inevitable goodbye out of my mind.
“Absolutely no. Not in my house,” Bash insisted. “Not now, not ever.”
I looked at the turquoise rotary telephone in my hands. “It’s a 1973 floral Empress. How could you not want this? It’s a steal,” I teased. “Do you have any idea what an incredible conversation piece this would be?”
I would say this for the Hamptons—even the items in the thrift store here were higher quality than most of the stuff I found in Linden. My fingers itched to buy some of these pieces, restore them to glory, and decorate some of the nearly empty bedrooms in Bash’s house. Unfortunately, the price tags on these items were higher, too, and it was hard to stop counting pennies, no matter how many of them Bash had.
“It’s ugly and hasn’t seen a dustcloth in the new millennium. I can’t even imagine how many smears of lipstick have touched the mouthpiece. Pick something else. Hell, anything else.”
I set the phone back on a shelf and patted its handset. “Someone will love you again one day,” I murmured. “I promise.”
“Weirdo,” Bash said with an affectionate grin. He pointed to a stack of colorful but inexpensive throw pillows. “What about these?”
“Pfft. Cheap reproductions,” I said in a low enough voice to not be overheard by the employee at the counter. “Move along.”
We came to a vintage velvet-and-silk throw in deep green, Kelly blue, and rich berry colors, which was being sold for a song—possibly because it didn’t coordinate with anyone’s minimalist decor. I couldn’t help my happy sigh. “We’re getting it. If you don’t like it, don’t tell me. Get it anyway and consider it my payment for sexual services rendered this week.”
Bash grabbed it and bundled it under his arm without even looking at the tag. “Done. What else?”
“You’re not going to argue about how many people’s skin cells have sloughed off onto it over the years?”
He made a face. “Are you trying to gross me out?”
I nudged his arm with my shoulder. “No. I’m just surprised at how quickly you agreed.”
“I’d do anything to put the look on your face you got when you saw this,” he said.
I wanted to tell him he already did. That I couldn’t remember the last time I’d let myself enjoy anything as much as I was enjoying this time with him, even though the unanswered messages from my parents made my phone feel like a lead brick in my pocket.
Instead, I leaned up to press a kiss against the edge of his mouth. “You’re an easy mark,” I whispered.