Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Awesome. Because this is a great bed and I don’t wanna leave yet.” Renzo scraped out the last of the ice cream, licking his spoon clean.
I don’t want you to leave ever. The thought echoed through Canaan’s head, loud as the clang of cymbals. He wanted this thing with Renzo to last in the worst way. He didn’t want to get to the part where Renzo ditched him in favor of someone who had their life more together, wanted this thing to keep going even if the timing was imperfect. And as Renzo moved from licking the spoon to licking Canaan’s neck, he tried to focus on the here and now and not the future, when apparently he had to meet Renzo’s family. God, he hoped he didn’t fuck that up because so far, getting stranded on that ledge with Renzo was possibly the best thing to ever happen to him.
Chapter Eighteen
Renzo drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the incessant thrumming of his pulse.
“Would you relax? You’re going to vibrate the truck apart.” Next to him, Canaan stretched. It was another early start for them, trying to beat traffic going up to Anaheim. Renzo’s family had flown in last night, but he’d known they’d want to rest after the long flights, and they’d arranged to meet for breakfast before heading to Disney for the day, and then he and Canaan would stay over that night.
“Sorry.” Really, Renzo should be far more relaxed. He’d spent the night at Canaan’s, which always made him sleep like an old dog in front of a fireplace, deeply relaxed and content. And the sex last night hadn’t hurt either. Canaan had been right on about a lot of good sex being finding out where people’s favorite things overlapped. They’d spent the last week and change seeing each other whenever they could, and Renzo was pretty sure he could write an ode to the many versions of frot they’d tested out. Not to mention Canaan’s oral skills.
As if he’d sensed the direction of Renzo’s thoughts, Canaan laughed. “You need me to blow you at a rest area so you stop fidgeting so much?”
“What? No. No, we are not having public sex.” Blood rushed south anyway, but Canaan was always going to be a lot more adventurous than him in that area.
“Darn. You look like you need a good distraction.”
“Better start hoping our room is nowhere near my folks’, and I’ll show you need tonight.” Outside, the coastline zipped by, dawn dancing over the ocean on one side, sun peeking up on the other. It’d be pretty if he wasn’t such a mess of nerves.
“Crossing every damn thing.” Canaan gave a smug smile. “Not that I can’t be quiet if we’re close—”
“Nope. You can’t. And I love that. But no way are we having sex if we’re next door. Sorry.”
“It’s a good thing you’re so hot.” Sighing heavily, Canaan settled deeper into his seat, but didn’t sound too put out. “Wanna tell me what you’re so worked up about? Some topic I should make sure not to mention? Is it the me-being-a-guy thing?”
“Nah. They know I’m bi.” True, Canaan was the first boyfriend he’d brought around, but that wasn’t why he couldn’t seem to settle. “Just want it go well. Want you to have a good time too. I’m worried they might annoy you. Joe will probably forget having met you at several points and—”
“Ren. Am I really that much of a dick? I can deal with him, I promise. He’s important to you, so he’s important to me too.”
“Sorry. Some of my high school friends were...less than patient with him.”
“Well, I’m not them. And I like talking. I’ll handle all the questions they want to toss at me.”
“Hope so.” Renzo exhaled hard and tried to will his muscles to relax.
“It’ll go good. I was worried about Grandpa and you getting along, but after you cooked the other night, I’m pretty sure he’d trade me for you any day.”
“Ha. It was just chicken and some pasta.” Renzo had texted Canaan a list of groceries and then they’d made Nona’s chicken. It had been fun, cooking together, Canaan’s grandpa telling them stories while they worked.
“And this is just breakfast.” Canaan sounded confident, so Renzo let that carry him until they pulled into the hotel. The plan was to eat at the restaurant here, then head to the park itself. He texted his mom from the parking lot, but he knew her and knew she’d likely be waiting in the lobby already.
Sure enough, the three of them were waiting when they entered the hotel. His dad was occupied with the sports section of the paper, but his mom hopped up. She was wearing a Proud Navy Mom T-shirt with a jaunty pink anchor. She seemed to have a new variation on that theme every time he saw her, to the point that he wondered what she wore when she wasn’t around him.