Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
I nod. “Yeah. Fletcher.”
“Fletcher Jacobson,” Lexi says, and I don’t like her tone. She’s got the playful glint in her eyes I recognize from countless other conversations, the glint that tells me, in no uncertain terms, that she feels attraction toward him.
My instinct is to throw my brush at her, tear my canvas to pieces, and toss myself into a world-record-level temper tantrum. I can’t think about Lexi with Fletcher. In my mind, insanely, he’s already mine.
“He’s something to look at, isn’t he?” Lexi says, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Her heavy bag session must be over.
“I don’t know,” I murmur, purposefully focusing on my painting.
“You didn’t notice?” Lexi laughs. “He used to come to class sometimes. He’d coach, or he’d hit the bag in the corner. There was always this intensity in everything he did.”
Just like in my fantasies last night…
“It was like he wanted to kill the bag. I had a crush on him.”
“Had or have?” I ask, trying to keep my voice as casual as possible.
“Aren’t we a little old for crushes?” she laughs. “Maybe I’ve just got daddy issues.”
One of the reasons Lexi and I bonded so quickly is that we both went to college in our home city for similar reasons. Her dad walked out when she was thirteen, and she wanted to stay here to be with her mom. My dad passed when I was fifteen, and I wanted to stay for the same reason.
“But do you?” I ask. “Still like him?”
Luckily, she’s too tired and cardio-high from her workout to hear the desperation in my voice. I’m unsure what I’d do if I saw adventurous, dyed-hair, fun Lexi on Fletcher’s arm. Realistically, I shouldn’t do anything. I shouldn’t care, but I can’t ignore that I do a lot. I can’t ignore the fact that thinking of them together hurts.
“I wouldn’t kick him out of bed,” she says, “but dating a man that old… I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
I should agree with this. My dad was fifty-seven when I was born. He and Mom had an amazing relationship. Mom often talks about it. Their sixteen-year age gap didn’t cause them any problems until it did, and Dad wasn’t there anymore. He left us alone.
“But he’s not old, old,” I say.
Lexi grins. “What does that mean? I’m young, young. He’s old, old.”
“He’s older,” I say, knowing I need to be careful. I’m pushing this point far too strongly for somebody who doesn’t care. “But it’s not like he’s some old man. He’s fit. He’s healthy. He’s experienced and mature.”
“Are you sure you don’t have a crush on him?” Lexi asks.
I laugh it off, gently guiding my brush across the canvas. “I literally saw him for a minute or two. It’s hard to develop a crush in that time. It’s just that age gaps aren’t the end of the world.”
This is my copout, implying I was talking about my dad.
“I’m not saying that,” Lexi says, getting the message I intended to give, a red herring if there ever was one. “But it would be complicated. He’s twice our age, Sam, more than, technically. He must be forty-one or forty-two. Imagine if we started dating.”
“Then he got older, got sick, and passed away. I get it, okay?”
Lexi stands up. “I’m sorry. I’m an ass. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You haven’t,” I tell her. At least, not for the reasons she thinks, anyway.
“Are you sure?” she asks doubtfully.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Really. It’s just I wonder if I’ll ever find anybody. If I’ll ever want anybody.”
Maybe I could tell Lexi right here how I feel, all the whispers of the future blooming to vivid life in my mind like fresh paint, but I know her. I know she’d try to make me see sense. Heck, it’s what she should do. It would be the only reasonable response to so much silliness. That’s why I don’t tell her. I don’t want to be convinced. Let me live in this delusion for a little longer.
CHAPTER SIX
Fletcher
Charles Malone is a short man wearing a scuffed-up leather jacket. He’s around my age, but he’s lived differently. I can tell. A cigarette hangs from his mouth as he approaches me in the park, and his belly peeks out the bottom of his T-shirt. I try not to judge him. Not everybody has had to keep their body in tip-top shape for their career.
It’s been two days since the date. Two days of dreaming about Samantha. Two nights of lying in bed and listing all the reasons I can’t be with her. She dated my son. She’s half my age. She’d never want me. She’s too innocent for somebody as messed up as me. Then, after I finish the list, I start stroking my manhood anyway.
My mind fills with fantasies of Samantha, using the short minutes I spent with her as fuel. Her hips in that dress, her shy smile, her tempting green eyes… Even now, as Charles gets closer, my cock begins to stiffen as I think of her. I need to focus.