Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Crayon-eater,” I reminded him.
“Right. Sorry.”
I grinned and turned on the radio while Nathan inspected the interior of my baby. It’d seen some things over the years. My folks had driven it all over the country for festivals and protests in their hippie days. It was about as old as me.
I’d done my best to restore it to its former glory once Dad gave me the keys. I’d replaced the padding and the leather on the bench seat. I’d sure as fuck removed the two hundred air fresheners hanging on the rearview.
“Is it just me, or does it smell like weed in here?” he asked.
I scratched my nose. “It ain’t just you. The previous owners have a past as free spirits. I found an old bong under the passenger’s seat when I took over.”
He chuckled. “I’ve never tried it.”
“Really?”
“You have?”
“Sure,” I said. “But I grew up with two parents who have a past as free spirits and left an old bong under the passenger’s seat.”
That made him laugh.
He had a sexy laugh. I liked it a lot.
“What’s the hotel?” I asked.
“The Westwater by Reading Terminal.”
Very close to my place, in other words. “On that note…” I dug out the napkin and handed it to him. “In case you wanna hang out after work. Or crash, for that matter.”
He was quiet for a beat, studying the napkin. Then he cleared his throat. “I don’t get off until two AM.”
“I’ll be up, but it’s your call. I figured it could be nice to have a night you didn’t have to go all the way back to Strawberry Mansion.”
“Heh. That’s unfortunately my reality three times a week,” he said. “It’s not a normal shift. My dad’s wife’s cousin is the manager at the hotel, and he created a position for me. Most second-shifters come in at three and get off at eleven…” Was he nervous? He was almost rambling now. “Sometimes, I’ll work the night shift too, and then I gotta go directly from the hotel to my regular job.”
Fucking hell, it all sounded exhausting. “And you have a third job too?”
“Yeah, I deliver pizza on the weekends.”
I shook my head. That was fucking insane. “I’d lose my fucking mind. I’m not a stranger to sleeping three or four hours a night, but if I don’t get my weekends off, hell has no fury.”
He chuckled. “Hath.”
“What?”
“Hell hath no fury.”
I side-eyed him. “What the fuck does hath mean?”
“It’s the old version of has, and it’s how that phrase is used.”
Oh. Whatever. “I’m a modern man, Nathan.”
I caught him smiling out his window.
Fuck him. Fuck him for making me think about him all night.
At two AM, I turned off my TV and just let the silence fill the place.
I’d actually invited him to my sanctuary. My little studio slice of heaven. Where I could see every inch of the place, aside from my bathroom, from the comfort of my cushy couch. The sleep alcove, the kitchenette, the dining area where I just dumped mail, and the entryway. A place that was sacred to me. I’d never had a guy over. My mother was allowed to visit because she tended to bring casseroles and steaks. My brother wasn’t welcome. He had a nasty habit of taking off his dirty socks and leaving them here.
So what was it about Nathan?
Even though I was making plans for a life full of mess, gray areas, and chaos, I wasn’t there yet. I’d just started dipping my toes in the world of adoption policy. I quizzed Ma sometimes. I spent an hour or two at the library here and there. I made calls. I was learning about state laws and federal laws—and how nobody seemed to have solid answers, because every rule had an exception. Not to mention extensive waiting periods. But other than that, everything in my life could be fit into specific boxes. Friends belonged in one. Family in another. Hookups were kept separate. I didn’t have many exes, so that box was small. I was very new at exploring BDSM as well, making that box even smaller.
Nathan should be crammed into the hookup box, but that didn’t feel right.
He was dating material. That much was clear.
Maybe I was rusty. I hadn’t had a boyfriend since… Fuck.
I scratched my head.
The year after high school? Nameless hookups and casual play partners were so much easier.
I blew out a breath and rose from the couch, and I brought my plate and soda can with me to the kitchen.
2:09
Was he gonna come? He hadn’t indicated either way. The topic had been forgotten, and I hadn’t brought it up again, in case he’d wanted to let me down easy.
Good thing I knew where he worked. I could yell curse words at his boss’s window and lure him out.
How long did it take to walk from the Westwater? Two, three minutes?