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)
He wears a warm, friendly smile. Even though he’s playing it off as a joke, I know he’s looking out for me.
He’d never want to stop me from enjoying myself or having a good time when I go out with friends, but he’s protective.
That’s the thing I’ve learned about being friends with him. It comes with him being a little protective, but in the ways I’ve really needed since I broke up with my dickbag ex—a guy who encouraged me to remain isolated and away from others. Frankie’s not like that at all. He encourages me to get out and have a good time, which has been a hell of a lot easier when I know he’s there to keep me company and from feeling like I’m all on my own.
We spend about half an hour more laughing, chatting, and dancing around with friends before everyone starts separating off into different groups.
My friend Gary greets me with a hug. “How’ve you been, man?” he asks.
Gary and I have an…interesting history. We both have the same dickhead in our past—Peter. For a long time, I thought Gary was a dick, and apparently, he thought the same thing about me, but we both learned who the real bastard was.
“I’ve been really good.”
“How’s the job at the coffee shop?”
“I love it. It’s great getting to meet so many new people every day. And I get to make myself free iced caramel lattes during my break. How about you?”
Gary talks to me about his fiancé and their plans for their upcoming wedding. It’s nice being able to stand here and chat with him like this. He’s great, and I know his influence is largely the reason why his crew embraced me so much after I left Peter.
After some more time passes, Gary heads off before returning to tell me, “We’re all about to head over to Pump, just to give you a heads-up. And Derek wanted me to give you another drink.” He hands me the shot, and I laugh.
“Oh my God. Does Derek want me to be on the floor?”
“I’m pretty sure the one who’s about to be on the floor is Derek.”
He turns and I follow Gary’s gaze to Derek, who is making out with Jackson in the corner of the room.
Daddy Jackson’s hands greedily feel their way around Derek’s twinky body, and I can’t say I don’t feel a little jelly.
“I want to be manhandled like that,” I tell him.
Gary chuckles. “You and me both.”
His fiancé, Travis, comes up behind Gary, wraps his arms around him, and says, “If you insist, Superass.”
I’m about as jelly of Gary’s nickname as I am of what Jackson is doing to Derek in the corner.
Travis spins Gary around and claims his mouth. My face flashes with heat before I slip away to let them have their private time. I find Frankie as he finishes chatting with some guys.
He runs his hand down his beanie. Those familiar brown eyes settle on me as his smile stirs the dark scruff on his chin. I’m not that short, like five-five—okay, maybe five four and a half—but whenever I get near Frankie, who stands at a little over six feet tall, I feel like I must’ve lost that half inch.
“You want to head to Pump with everyone?” I ask him.
He glances around and shrugs. “I can be done for the night now if you are. I know you have to work tomorrow.”
“I’m good to go.”
“You want to finish your shot?” he asks.
I shake my head, and he smiles before taking it and offering it to one of the guys he was talking to.
We text the other guys in our crew to let them know we’re heading back to Metropolis, the condo building where we live. Well, the condo where most of my friends and I live…along with a ton of other gay guys. It’s practically a joke how many gay guys are in the building. Grindr heaven, some call it. Not that I use Grindr much, but Frankie is always eager to joke with me about the guys he hits up on there.
Frankie and I read the follow-up texts from our friends out loud to each other on the walk from the house on 8th Street to Metropolis. The guys give us some hell for sneaking off early, saying we’re probably leaving to have a fuck-fest back at our place.
They’re just teasing, though. They know we’re just friends and roommates. And more than anything, they’re echoing the comments about Frankie and me that run wild through the Midtown rumor mill. Everyone’s convinced there must be something between us because we went from spending a lot of time together to living together, but really, that’s all it’s ever been.
Don’t get me wrong—he’s hot as fuck.
He doesn’t go to the gym much, but I guess he doesn’t have to because even in the thermal he’s wearing tonight, his impressive bis and tris push at the fabric where the sleeves are bunched up by his elbow. They’re the kind of muscles that let me know he could throw a guy around in the sack when the inspiration strikes. And between his hot bod and his pretty face, it’s no wonder I was so attracted to him that night we first met—when he made sure I was okay and took me home after Peter hurt me, but he did so much more than that.