My body bursts into flames as I read the text again. And again. Brad’s into guys? Since when? Now, the image of Brad on his knees for a guy is forever burned into my brain. And even Crush Orange soda isn’t helping my situation.
But his next text does the trick.
JK, Chuck. Don’t freak out on me. Your straight virtue is safe. Plus, Minni would cut off my balls.
Shit. My guesswascorrect. What the fuck, dude?
I need to review my talking points, but my dick is still half-hard and focused on the silver Daddy texting me.
He thinks he’s texting my dad. Good chance my mom would cut off his balls if she knew he was texting herprecious only childpictures of his junk. And my dad might help her. Holy Jesus.
But it’s not really Brad’s fault. I should have told him he had the wrong number five texts and one almost dick pic ago.
Now what do I do?
Brummm. I’m startled by the vibration of my phone. Another text.Ignore it. Focus on your presentation.
And another.Have some self-respect, Charlie.Except all that went out the window before the Crush Orange-soda incident—when I was old enough to realize I was gay and my wrestling coach was hot.
Another text comes through. Wouldn’t it be rude not to answer?
As opposed to pretending to be someone else? But I ignore that voice in my head, sounding suspiciously like my mom.
Chuck?
Seriously?
I only have a minute. Answer when I call, asshole.
Panic shoots through me. Ignoring his texts was a bad idea. I can’t talk to him. Not now.
Maybe he’ll call the right number. My dad. Still embarrassing, but not as?—
Raja claps their hands. “Everyone, please return to your seats so we can get started.” They frown at me. “Are you ready, Chas?”
Not remotely. “Could I have one minute?”
They open their mouth, but they must see something in my expression because they press their lips together and nod.
That’s all I need. One?—
Brummm. Brummm. Brummm.
Even on silent, the vibrations are loud enough to get everyone’s attention. I turn away from the group and answer, mostly to get the ringing to stop.
“Hello?” Why do I sound so breathless?
Silence. How can silence be heavy through a phone? I check that we’re still connected. We are.
“Charlie?” The sexy deep voice comes from my phone.
And the room.
What the fuck? I swing around, too shocked to do anything but stare at the man stepping out from the crowd with his phone in his hand and his brows scrunched in confusion.
“Charlie?” he asks again.
I do the only thing I can. I rejoin the nuns in the monastery and forget all about Homes for Hope and Brad Rathborn.
