Total pages in book: 13
Estimated words: 12376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 62(@200wpm)___ 50(@250wpm)___ 41(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 12376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 62(@200wpm)___ 50(@250wpm)___ 41(@300wpm)
“Better keep quiet now. Most will be asleep,” Matt whispered, leading him along a sequence of shut doors until they reached a large lounging area full of pillows scattered over the floor and anarchist posters hung on walls.
Boar nodded, frowning at the sight of one guy sleeping on the sofa with his sweatpants pulled down and a smiley face drawn on his buttocks. The place was like a frat house for adults without jobs the morning after a big party.
“Is it like this every day?” he whispered to Matt.
Matt blinked, but then nudged Boar with his elbow. “Why, you like that view?” he asked, ushering him toward the kitchen. Metal shelving units containing food stood next to it, and while some of the products looked shabby, they were surely edible. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and Boar would take whatever he was given at this point.
He snorted. “If I’d known I was saving the Prince of Squats, I would have been more courteous.”
“Kiss my ring then. You owe me an apology,” Matt said, extending his left hand, adorned with several metal signets.
Boar laughed out loud in disbelief at how comfortable he was around this near-stranger. Matt and him… they clicked. Just like that. Boar didn’t have to posture around him like he always had with friends from church, or pretend to be someone else, like he had around family.
He grabbed the offered hand and kissed it, watching Matt’s face. “I apologize, my prince.”
The fingers twitched, gently patting the underside of his chin. Matt’s chest expanded as he sucked in air, keeping his gaze trained on Boar’s face. “That’s not enough.”
Boar ran his fingers through his hair. Homeless, plain, and inexperienced, how was he the object of interest for a guy like Matt? Still, he would grab it, even if he didn’t yet know what to do with it. He glanced at the shelves
“You’re one greedy prince. I can make us breakfast.”
“He cooks! Maybe you can find a place in my court after all,” Matt said, entering the kitchen and opening a beat-up fridge.
Boar took the opportunity to stare at Matt illuminated by the bright light from inside the fridge. He was everything Boar wasn’t. Matt lived life however he pleased, and Boar would do so too if he decided to stay here.
“Whatever it takes. Any allergies?” Boar asked, reaching past Matt for a pan. The kitchen was basic and only had one stove, but it would do.
“Only sexism, homophobia, and racism,” Matt said, rolling away from the fridge with a can of cheap beer in hand.
As Boar cooked, they fell into comfortable banter, chatting about Matt’s life in the squat and about the other people living there. Matt shared an outrageous story about how a police raid had ended up with the cops joining an orgy, and boasted about his skills in juggling lit torches. By the end of the cooking, Boar was invited to stay for the evening party and witness Matt in action.
In the street, people had barely talked to Boar, and once his phone had run out of battery, the sudden onslaught of loneliness had been unbearable. Matt was the breath of fresh air Boar needed, even if neither of them smelled fresh.
For a meal made out of food reclaimed from supermarket trash, the impromptu frankfurter and tomato stew not only looked good but also smelled decent. By the time Boar was about to serve the dish over rice, Matt had gravitated dangerously close. So close Boar could sense the warmth of his breath on his nape.
He wasn’t sure he was ready to acknowledge it yet, but the sound of someone approaching the kitchen made him pull away without thinking, only to see a skinny guy in cutoff shorts and a tank top revealing tattooed arms.
He smiled at Boar with charming blue eyes and pushed back long black hair. “Smells nice, new guy.”
Matt stood between them and spread his arms. “Whoa! Stand in line okay?”
Boar snorted, trying not to stare at the pretty arrival. “There’s enough for both of you.”
“I like a man who can cook,” the twink said, gliding across the kitchen with his eyes locked on Boar.
What was this new reality where every guy he met acted as if he were a juicy piece of steak? He had no idea, but he definitely didn’t hate it.
“Dru, don’t push it. I found him first,” Matt said, putting his hand on Boar’s nape and letting it rest there.
Boar laughed, because how else was he to react to something that both scared and flattered him? “As I said, there’s enough for both of you.”
Dru offered him a little smile and grabbed a plate. “Are you offering a threesome?”
Boar raised his hands in panic. “Wha—no! I’m sorry, just a stupid joke, don’t mind me!”
“You’re stressing him out,” Matt said, resting his chin on Boar’s shoulder. The heat of his body was a flame, and Boar’s heart was a moth, but he ignored its longing for now and finished preparing the food.