Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
A rush of adrenaline courses through my body.
There’s something so exciting and exhilarating about this experience. There’s a freedom to it that I wouldn’t have expected, especially considering how much I’d been freaking out about even the idea of a puppy hood. For some reason, there’s this impulse within me rising to yelp or bark.
“That’s a good boy. That’s a good boy,” Z says, resting his hand on the back of my neck and stroking gently. I can tell he’s not mocking or teasing. He’s genuinely accepting, and there’s something about the interaction that feels so special, so different than anything I’ve experienced before.
“You should come to PupStravaganza at the end of the month,” he says. “Just for fun.”
6
Frankie
I peek my head through Evan’s bedroom doorway. He’s standing in front of a full-length mirror in a pair of underwear and a T-shirt. “What are we gonna do tonight, Karaoke Kid?” I tease.
Evan jumps. “Shit. You scared me.”
Chuckling, I go into his room and flop down on his bed, watching him. Something is…different but I can’t put my finger on what it is. “Sorry. You’re awfully jumpy today. You okay?”
He runs his hand down his chest as though he’s straightening his shirt. “I hate this shirt,” he mumbles and then walks to the closet, his tight little ass looking sexy in his Andrew Christians.
“Um…hello? Earth to Evan?”
“Sorry,” he replies, buried in his closet. “What did you ask?”
“Well, first I asked what we’re doing tonight, but that question was trumped with, ‘Are you okay?’ You’re being weird.” I don’t know how exactly. He’s just, distracted, I guess, but Evan isn’t usually distracted with me. And he obviously has somewhere to go since he’s freaking out about his clothes the way he is.
“I thought you weren’t going to be home tonight?” he asks, his voice slightly unsteady. There’s a strange quality to it, almost as though he was hoping I wouldn’t be here.
“I wasn’t, but I canceled.” I push off his bed and head to his closet, just as he pulls on a different tee—this one blue. He glances my way but doesn’t hold my stare. In fact, by the way his eyes are darting around, it’s obvious he is doing everything he can not to make eye contact with me. “Hey,” I say as I step closer and he smiles, shyly. It’s then that everything makes sense. “Do you have a date tonight?”
His cheeks flush a sweet pink that makes me grin at his innocence.
“You do. Holy fuck, you have a date tonight. Good job, Ev.” His eyes dart away and my stomach twists uncomfortably…or twists more. I can’t really tell. Had it been knotting before Evan looked away from me again, or not? There’s no reason for it to be uncomfortable. I want Evan to date and have fun…I think. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m nervous. This is different for me.”
It really fucking sucks that he’s twenty-four years old and has to be nervous to go on a date. His fucking parents. Fucking Peter. I hate the fact that he was the one to get to Evan first, to be Evan’s first everything and then to screw him over the way he did.
“It’s just a date,” I tell him. If anything, his face gets redder and he turns away from me, pulling down a pair of jeans from a hanger. It’s obvious he’s pretty fucking nervous about this, but strangely, he almost seems like he’s uncomfortable with me knowing too. That’s new for Evan and me. Since our first night as friends, there have been no barriers between us, and it makes my skin feel too tight having one there now.
I close the short space between us, turn him around, and cup his face in my hands. Yes, I decide. Yes, I want him to go on a date. He deserves it. “This is a good thing. You’re gonna be fine. Not every man is Peter.”
“That’s not…” He shakes his head. “Never mind. Thanks, Frankie. I know this likely seems like a strange overreaction to you.”
It does, actually. Evan might not have fucked around since Peter, but something isn’t sitting right with me. I don’t know what it is, but his reaction to this whole date just doesn’t fit the Evan I know. I think people look at him and write him off as weak, but he’s not. Evan’s the strongest person I know. “You’re gonna have a blast. And you picked the perfect jeans, because your ass looks fucking hot in those.”
He nuzzles into my hand and smiles. He’s so damn cuddly. I’ve never met someone who just likes to be touched the way Evan does—a hand in his hair, his head in my lap, the way his face nuzzles me now. “Text me every half hour,” I tell him.
“Every half hour?” He jerks away.