Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 109038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“David isn’t going to be here until this evening. I won’t be drunk by then.”
I’m not exactly breaking a rule. Our boss has made it clear that if customers purchase shots for us, we are allowed to take them while working behind the bar. And I’m going to put money in the register for this one, because I’m not a thief, either.
I just need my mind to be a little less sharp than it is right now.
“I wonder when the Scotch guy is going to show up,” Julian says.
I glance up. “Blond guy? Kind of built, but looked like he was about to say aw, shucks half the time?”
“That’s the one. Yesterday he showed up after dinner and was here all night.”
I grin. “He was here in the afternoon, too. Did he flirt with you and stare behind the bar, or to clean up after you?”
“No,” Julian says. “He was pretty normal, other than somehow being able to tank, like, 500 gallons of liquor and still remain composed. Left a really nice tip.”
Yesterday, after grabbing a shipment from the back, I came out and found the little note the guy had left me.
It’s now hanging on the front of my fridge at home with a magnet, because I love a badge of honor.
Somebody wanted to be my friend.
Gold star for me.
“He wanted my dick,” I tell Julian.
He snorts. “You think everyone wants your dick.”
“And I’m never wrong. He had this fuck-me look in his eyes that he stopped being able to hide the moment he got tipsy.”
Julian shakes his head. “Did you tell him you’re straight?”
“I did. But he’s probably one of those rich, successful guys who always gets what he wants. He looked like he wanted to win me over so badly. Swear I could have told him to bend over for me right there and he would have.”
“You’re awful.”
“He knew nothing was going to happen. I’m innocent.”
“Innocent is the last word in the English language I’d ever use to describe you, Chase.”
There’s still something that lights up inside me when I think about it. I’m a sucker for attention, no matter the source. I keep remembering the way that man’s eyes kept focusing on me. He was trying to look all cool and calm, but there was this fire beneath the surface.
He was trying so hard to seem composed, but…
I was getting to him.
And I enjoyed that.
All day I’ve been making guesses about what his life must be like. He was dressed perfectly. He obviously came from money. Drinking at 2 o’clock, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Sometimes it feels like I have to go chasing attention like it's a butterfly, but he came right to me.
Maybe I just have an overactive imagination. Or maybe it’s just because another relationship of mine is probably about to fail.
Julian glances up at me now as he’s washing out a metal canister.
“He asked about you, actually.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Scotch guy?”
“Mhm.”
“When were you planning on mentioning that?”
“I didn’t want to juice up your ego any higher than it needs to be. He asked if you’d be here today.”
“Cute. He’s fucking obsessed with me.”
“Chase,” my brother warns me, narrowing his eyes. “If you’re considering some sort of gay exploration, you really shouldn’t do that with a Bellwood hotel guest.”
“I never said I was considering shit.”
“Good. You’d break that poor fuck’s heart.”
I smile and give Julian a shove. “I’m not going to do anything with him. He’s too rich and boring anyway.”
“Are you coming to the party after our shift?”
“Fuck yes. They’re going to have someone doing stick-and-poke tattoos there. I’m getting something on my thigh.”
“You’re going to let someone tattoo you at a party? Do I even need to explain how unsafe that is?”
“It’s very safe. This girl is trained, and last time I saw her doing tattoos at a party, she had every precaution in place.”
Ever since I moved into the city after high school, I feel like I actually started to live my life rather than dream about it. It's even better now that Julian’s here, too. New York is expensive enough that I need to live with him and two other roommates, but I don’t give a damn that our apartment is small.
All I care about is that I escaped.
I got out of the suburban neighborhood in Queens Village where we grew up, where I knew I didn’t fit in. Sports were king at my school, and I was no one, because I never played.
My father tried to mold me in his image and it didn’t stick. He put everything in my hands when I was a child: basketballs, footballs, baseballs, hockey sticks. He was never impressed when I showed him a completed painting or drawing, and he’d stare at them like art was a language he didn’t understand. He didn’t care that I won first place in a photography competition when I was thirteen, where the prize was five hundred bucks and free private art classes for the next year.