Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 140629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
The handsome stranger didn’t want Caspian. He didn’t even care that the hot stud he desired was horrible at flirting. Maybe it shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did, because there was a guy who wanted him knowing who he was, and who appreciated him regardless. A guy who watched trash TV with him, enjoyed learning sayings in Latin, and taught him boxing moves.
His gaze gravitated to Gunner again, who at this point drunkenly leaned on the man he’d danced with earlier. There was a bit too much familiarity in the way they touched for Caspian’s taste, but Gunner had overestimated his drinking capacity. It would soon be time to step in, so he offered the stranger a smile and let go of his neck.
“I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for.”
The guy snorted. “Are you kidding me? You look like you’d wreck me, and that’s exactly what I’m looking for.”
Throughout his life, Caspian had often been afraid to react the way he wanted to when people tested his boundaries or were rude to him. Small and physically weak, he’d often been worried about the fallout, but he no longer had such concerns.
“If that was what I was looking for, you’d be bent over the hood of my truck already.”
“Why not then?” The guy asked with disappointment painted all over his face, but Caspian’s attention lapsed the moment he glanced at the dancefloor again and couldn’t spot Gunner anywhere.
“Because I’m taken,” Caspian said to soften the blow of rejection, since he knew all too well how badly that could sting a man’s ego
He tapped the guy’s shoulder and pushed through the middle of the dusky bar, scanning the rocking bodies. Someone touched his hip, but he didn’t even bother looking their way, on high alert as he sought anything that would point him to Gunner’s whereabouts. But none of the faces within sight belonged to the boy, and he couldn’t see his leather jacket or T-shirt either.
He walked from one end of the interior to the other and came to the conclusion that Gunner must have left, which meant that he was either outside or—Caspian’s gaze trailed to the neon sign pointing to the restrooms. He followed the blue arrow right away, prompted by an urgency burning in the pit of his stomach.
Had he started caring about Gunner’s safety when he’d stepped in and saved him from his old buddies, or when he’d realized Gunner didn’t have his shit together in life? It didn’t matter. What did matter was that he loved falling asleep with Gunner’s cheek on his pec and holding his hand.
He walked into the grimy bathroom and frowned when a lightbulb blinked in warning, but only one stall was closed. That was where he was headed.
“Come on, you wanted it on the dancefloor,” a man cooed to someone, and cold slime filled Caspian’s stomach.
He didn’t speak out or call Gunner’s name and, with tunnel vision guiding him to the shut door, he banged his fist on the scratched wood, not even bothering to look inside through the wide gap. “Open up. The party’s over.”
“Fuck off, man! Mind your own business,” the stranger yelled back.
“C-Cas?” That was Gunner. And the fact that he mumbled his name as if he had trouble pronouncing it correctly made Caspian’s self-control dry up.
This was war.
“This is your last chance,” Caspian growled and banged his whole palm on the door, fueled by growing rage. He should have known Gunner might drink more than his new, smaller body could take and watched him with more attention.
But despite offering the stranger a way out, Caspian didn’t have the patience to wait. He stepped back and slammed his shoulder into the flimsy door. A part of him didn’t expect it to work, but the lock gave and the door smashed into someone.
Gunner wasn’t the one who cried out, which meant Caspian hadn’t hit him by accident, but when he peeked inside rage turned his gaze red. The same fucker who’d been handsy with Gunner on the dancefloor held on to his face, staring at Caspian with eyes so wide they might’ve popped out of their sockets any moment.
Gunner was sprawled on the closed toilet, with legs spread wide and head rolling against the wall. Jealousy had simmered under the surface of Caspian’s skin when he stepped in there, but Gunner was in no state to entice anyone but a disgusting opportunist.
Who the hell wanted to bang someone who was literally falling asleep?
Fury rushed through Caspian’s veins like a wild river. He grabbed the bastard by the collar, tossed him out of the cubicle, and before he could have attempted to explain his actions, Caspian’s fist collided with his nose.
Bone gave way. Blood trickled to the man’s white shirt, and his head banged against the tiles like a basketball. He rolled to the floor with a shriek and climbed to his knees, one hand feeling up his rapidly swelling face while he supported himself with the other.