Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Two guys pass behind him, one in a tank, the other in a polo and holding a backpack. They head for the exit, and the one with the backpack says, “See you around, Dax.”
“Yeah, text us later,” the other follows, turning enough that I can see the glint in his eyes, which keeps me from having to speculate about what Dax was up to.
“What did you hit today?” Ryan asks Dax. “Arms? Shoulders?”
God, I love him, but he can definitely come across as the oblivious jock sometimes.
“I hit glutes,” Dax jokes. “Hard.”
“Yeah? Let’s see.” Ryan steps around to check out Dax’s ass, still not seeming to pick up on what Dax was insinuating.
“I was fucking those guys who just passed us,” Dax explains, putting our precious friend out of his misery.
“Oh…” Ryan says, his eyes widening. “That makes more sense.”
“But you guys clearly got in a good workout today,” Dax notes.
“Yeah, this isn’t like peak fitness. Planning to put on thirty, but look at these guns.” Ryan glances back at the mirror, flexing for himself.
“Damn,” Dax says, admiring his physique. “Looking thick as hell.”
“Come over and give it a little feel.”
Dax doesn’t pass up the opportunity to feel up a guy, so he takes Ryan’s bicep and gives it a squeeze. “Like a rock.”
Is it weird that even the word rock reminds me of Lance because of what he thought during that first…encounter?
Ryan grabs Dax’s hand and moves it to his abs. “You’d fuck this, right?”
“Oh my God, Ryan,” I say.
“I’d probably want you to fuck me,” Dax says, “but since that’s not happening, I suggest you take a pic of this and add it to your Insta stories.”
Wild to see Ryan joking about fucking around with a guy, having no idea what I was up to earlier this week.
What I can’t seem to get out of my head.
Ryan stands a little taller, clearly pleased with the compliment as he fetches his phone from his locker and snaps a few pics. “See, Dax appreciates that I just need my ego stroked every once in a while. My best friend could learn a thing or two.”
“It’s probably better coming from someone who would actually fuck you,” I say, “but I’ll take the best-friend note under consideration. Maybe we can add it to the minutes at the next frat meeting. Meanwhile, Dax, I noticed I haven’t gotten a compliment after this guy just put me through it in there.”
“Okay, okay,” Dax says. “I’d let you both fuck me, but it’d have to be at the same time. That better?”
I’m tempted to say, No way I’m fucking anyone other than Lance. But of course, I can’t say that, and it’s a weird-ass thing to even think, especially when I don’t even know if he’d want me fucking him.
“I don’t need your pity fuck,” I insist.
“Why you turning down Dax’s pity fuck?” Ryan asks. “You accept them from girls. That seems homophobic.” He’s got that playful expression on his face. The guy loves giving me hell.
“Fuck off, you big frathole,” I tease, and Dax and Ryan are in stitches.
We chat a bit more, get dressed, and head out. When I get into my car, I check my phone to see if Lance has messaged.
We’ve exchanged a few DMs on Insta. Just checking in. Yesterday, apparently there was a big to-do when one of Ash’s gerbils escaped, and they thought Frat Cat might have been a killer.
But neither of us brought up what we did. I’m hoping I’ll get to see him at Omega Psi’s party tomorrow night.
Maybe we could even sneak into another room and mess around some more…
Of course, if he’s decided he doesn’t want to mess around, I’ll understand. But fuck, I hope he’ll want to.
When I don’t see a message from him, there’s a pinch in my gut. I tell myself it could just be the tension Ryan worked up with that planks finisher.
But there’s panic mixed in too—that maybe Lance brought up that part of his day and not the messing around because he doesn’t want to do anything again.
Wants to forget about it.
After all, after he got me off, he was quick to head for the door.
Maybe I should have let him leave instead of getting him off.
I consider DMing him, but I don’t want to hound the guy, and we messaged yesterday, so I should be able to manage twenty-four hours without texting him again.
I pull it together and head to work.
It’s a rather uneventful Thursday afternoon, and I’m only into my second hour when I discover Ash, Lance, Payton, and Marty being seated in my coworker Jerri’s section.
Lance knows this is where I work. Is it strange that I’m hoping he was the one who suggested they come here tonight?
Maybe because he wanted to see me again.
Why does that set off fireworks in my chest?