Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
But right here and now, the professor wanted me. And damn, he felt like the best thing that had come my way in a long, long time.
Too bad I couldn’t keep him.
He paid for lunch and insisted on walking me to my SUV. He was telling me about his friends who worked for NASA and the work they were doing on Mars. It was interesting and I was actually able to follow along, but we couldn’t hover in the parking lot. Spaces were hard to come by on weekends, and we’d already been given a few dirty looks.
“I should go. Thank you for lunch, and good luck with all the wedding festivities. I’m sure it’ll be magical.” I kissed his cheek and moved aside, digging my keys from my bag in a lame attempt to avoid prolonged eye contact.
“Hold on.” Thomas stepped in front of me. “Can I see you again?”
My heart did a funny flip. Everything in me said, “yes, yes, yes,” but I was wrong for him in more ways than I could count. And let’s be real, his enthusiasm was based on a blowjob. Great sex was a powerful influencer, but that was a one-time deal.
I sucked in a gulp of air and shook my head. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I just…”
“Not like a date,” he quickly clarified, waving his hands like mini windmills.
“You want to shop?”
He crinkled his nose in distaste. And yes, it was seriously adorable on a dude who looked a lot like Superman. “We can do other things.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you suggesting a sexual arrangement, Professor?”
The poor guy turned bright pink in seconds flat. “Whoa! No! I would never…I mean, what we did…the fellatio—that was…”
“Fabulous?” I offered.
He made a “mind blown” gesture then wiped his palms on his khakis, and fuck, that was adorable.
“Yes. Fabulous. But we don’t have to do that. We can…shop.” He winced theatrically. “I might need another sports coat or…socks.”
I grinned. “I think the only thing you need now is a wedding date and—”
“That’s it!” He raised his hand in the air excitedly.
“What?”
“You can help me find a suitable date. Like a consultant.”
“Thomas, that’s insane,” I sputtered.
“A little,” he conceded with a smile. “But it’s brilliant too. You know gay jocks, and that’s exactly the right sort of date for me for this…wedding thing. The athletic gentlemen I know are all friends of friends and they’re straight and very unrefined. Which leaves me with Holden, who’s dating a super dork named Marlon. I’m sure he’d go with me, but I don’t want to interfere with his love life. I could try a dating app, however, bringing a complete stranger to my sister’s wedding shower wouldn’t go over well with my family. If you could at least vouch for their character, I’d be okay with that. It’s a good idea, isn’t it?”
He looked so pleased with himself that I didn’t want to burst his bubble. But I had to…right?
“You want me to set you up with someone from my soccer team?”
He puckered his lips and made that “I just sucked a sour lemon” face.
“Sure.”
I snickered. “You don’t want that.”
“Not really, but I need to expand my horizons and heck, I suppose this could be my Script Club experiment.”
“What the hell is that?”
He threaded his fingers through his hair as he filled me in on the mission statement of the club he’d founded with his closest friends. I wanted to laugh it off, but the concept of pushing yourself to try things outside of your comfort zone spoke to me somehow.
Thomas gave a self-deprecating shrug. “I’m a couple of years behind schedule, but better late than not at all, right?”
“Right. Look, I know this makes me a terrible person, but I know myself pretty well. I can’t introduce you to any of the single gay jocks I know without going crazy with jealousy. And I’m a bad bet. See? If you’re the genius I think you are, you should run far, far away from me. I’m a head case.”
He grinned. “Well, I am a genius. And I’m sure there’s a solution here. Perhaps continuing our acquaintanceship would be beneficial to my long-term goal of finding an appropriate date. My problem is that I lack confidence when it comes to social intercourse with sporty men. I don’t feel that way around you. Therefore, I hypothesize that talking to you a couple of times a week would give me the push I need to meet a sporty gentleman on my own. We could converse on the phone or via text. Thoughts?”
My jaw opened and snapped shut. Twice. “Two things…you said social intercourse without cracking up. Kudos. And correct me if I’m wrong, but are you asking me to be your friend-slash-pimp?”
Thomas adjusted his glasses nervously. “I wouldn’t use the term ‘pimp.’ Friend is good. If that’s agreeable.”