“If you insist it needs to be transactional, I will… eventually.” I smirk, shrugging.
“Don’t take too long deciding on what and when,” he warns me. “A month and a half goes by quicker than you think.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes.
I pay for the pies and usher Brooks outside to one of the patio tables, cooler in tow. If this man thinks I’m in this just for the experimentation, he’s got another thing coming. The more he reiterates the time we have left, the more I am goaded to call his bluff.
Thing is, I think I’ve finally met someone I’m interested in—attracted to him both physically and romantically—and, go figure, he is as infuriatingly stubborn as I am.
Chapter Seventeen
Evan takes me by surprise, once again, when he hauls me onto his lap so we can share the pie and watch the parade together. Poor guy must be touch starved, because he hasn’t been able to keep his hands off me this entirenotdate. I saw the look of shock in his eyes when Mom shirked his handshake and went in for a hug.
I don’t think he’s gotten many of those, but I can fix that for him too. I never grew up with a lack of touch and affection from both my mothers, that’s for sure. Both of them are convinced there isn’t much that can’t be fixed with a hug.
He gives me a weird look when I stop mauling the pie, in favor of not looking like a complete swine. Sitting on his lap right now, I’m feeling more self-conscious than ever. Feeling the weight—literally—of having let myself go for too long. Though, I will say, if anyone’s thighs could carry my weight, it’s his.
“Why’d you stop eating? You looked like you were enjoying it,” he asks, concern etching his features.
Yikes, I guess he noticed my gorging as well.
“I’m good,” I reply. “You’ve barely had any.”
“More of an apple pie kinda guy.” He shrugs.
“Ev-an!” I slap his shoulder playfully. “You should have said something!”
He grins. “I’m treatingyou, baby.”
I roll my eyes, and he slides another forkful of pie between my lips. He watches as I slowly roll the bite off, and savor it on my tongue.
“You shouldn’t be calling me baby,” I warn him, after gulping it down—my mouth suddenly going dry on the term of endearment. “Might give me the wrong idea that you actually like me or something…”
He gives me a wry look, before gazing back out over the parade moving down Main Street. “Gonna call you that until you believe it,” he murmurs, without tearing his eyes off the sight of Marcia Hildebrand and her all-senior ladies motorcycle club rumbling by, all decked out in rainbow flags.
He’s so engrossed in watching the motorcycles, that I think he misses my reply, “Or until the summer is over.”
He doesn’t miss it though. Of course, he doesn’t. He glares back at me. “This isn’t a jug of milk, Brooks. There doesn’t need to be an expiration date. You’re going to be reckless with me, until this either runs its course, and you get sick of me, or you’re going to put an end to this now—before it even has a chance to go any further.”
I spin in his lap and gape at him. No part of me wants to end this now, it feels like something that’s just begun. No part of me fathoms becoming sick of him either. Quite the opposite, actually. But, it can’tbe…
“So, what—we just date, even though we go our separate ways at the end of summer? That seems highly illogical. We’ve both got kids we can’t uproot for their last year of school.”
“Why can’t we try it now, and cross that bridge when we get there?”
I huff and roll my eyes. “You literally had a huge self-revelationyesterday.”
“Mhm, sure did. Still coming to terms with it, here and now.”
“You can’t possibly know you want to pursue a relationship so soon,” I protest.
He places his hands on my hips and sighs. “You’re going to sit here and tell me you know my wants better than I do? That’s kind of patronizing, isn’t it? I may have just been able to admit that I am gay, but I definitely know I’m not that kind of guy who fuckin’usessomeone for sex.
“You deserve something better than to be treated like a test dummy. You deserve someone who will take you on dates, who will buy you special sheets, who will buy you a year’s supply of your favorite treats, who will get your mind off your responsibilities every once in a while, who will take some of the burdens off your plate for you—you, Brooks, deserve that much. So stop telling me what I should do, and think of yourself for once.”
Alright, crap—I’m swooning. Hard.
“What’s it going to be,baby?” he asks, arching an eyebrow up at me.
