Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 140629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
But Caspian had been there, watching out for him. It made Gunner’s insides all mushy and wishing to hug his boyfriend all day instead of interacting with all these fancy strangers.
Caspian’s presence would have been a lifesaver, but he knew better than to discuss a last-minute invitation with the Bradys. While Barb and Thomas had expressed gratitude toward Caspian’s high school classmate, he had no doubt a guy with a skull tattooed over half of his face wouldn’t be welcome at a party like this, even if he did own a suit to fit his broad-shouldered body.
The cell phone buzzed in his pocket, and he hurried toward the edge of the garden, to a modern statue shaped like a wave, which Caspian’s parents had received as a present from an artist they knew. With heat climbing up his back, he stood behind its stone bulk and peeked at the crowd of guests in ‘cocktail attire’, as Barb called it, and pulled out the cell phone when he deemed it safe.
It was Caspian!
A stupid grin spread on Gunner’s face. “Hey, I think it’s going well, but what’s foie gras?”
A soft chuckle came after a moment’s silence. “It’s pâté made with livers of force-fed geese or ducks.”
Gunner eyed the far-away table of canapés, spotting Barb speaking to a blonde woman in a flared knee-length dress. “Thanks but no thanks.”
“I thought not. I wanted to check up on you, but seems you’ve got it under control,” Caspian said in a warm tone that felt like a stroke to Gunner’s nape. Oh, how he wished to be wherever Caspian was instead of stuck with all those people and their expectations…
“And how’s your day going? No unexpected drama?” He leaned against the statue, feeling guilty over burdening Caspian with his shitty life and its demands.
“I’ve found some odd jobs for the day, and I’m having my lunch now. It’s all good. I wanted to tell you that if you needed something, just call or message me.”
“Can you come over, kidnap me and—”
“You’ll be fine. It’s just a few hours.”
“I know, I know, it’s just stressful.” Weakness. Something he’d rarely admit to anyone in his old body but felt comfortable to disclose to Caspian.
“I can take you away once it’s all over. Let’s go somewhere quiet and have a little picnic.”
Gunner chuckled. “A picnic? Like with a basket and shit? On a blanket?”
“Yep. I checked the forecast, and the sky should be clear throughout the night too. We could stay out until late.”
“That’s like… real sweet, Cas.” Gunner had an urge to bury his face in Caspian’s chest and tightened his hold on the phone. He’d dated women since his teens but never had anyone organize something for him. For some reason, Caspian believed he was worth pampering. And while neither of them used the word date in relation to meeting up, getting together had been increasingly about spending time with one another instead of trying to solve the issue that turned the world on its head. Some days it felt Noah was more invested in it than either of them.
They only ate at inexpensive places, but despite having less cash, Caspian had always picked up the bill, as if he were trying to make a point of it. And Gunner let him, more flattered every time.
“Can’t wait to see you and hear all the gossip,” Caspian said with a smile to his voice.
Thomas waved at Gunner from around the dessert buffet, indicating he required his presence. “I gotta go. But I can already tell you Aletia had pretended to take French lessons when she was really going to chess practice. Saucy stuff.”
Caspian laughed louder this time, but ended up smacking his lips, as if he were giving Gunner a peck on the cheek. “Good luck keeping up appearances.”
Gunner put the phone back into his pocket and made his way toward Thomas, hoping the luck that had kept him blunder-free so far would not turn away from him now.
“Hey, Dad, what’s up?” He was toying with asking Barb and Thomas if he could start calling them by their names, because calling the man he met two weeks ago Dad was painfully awkward. But that could wait.
“I know you don’t like those events, but now that you’re out of college, you should start thinking of networking as part of the job,” Thomas said, putting his hand between Gunner’s shoulder blades and leading him through the crowd gathered in little groups all around the garden while soft piano music played in the background.
Gunner had only seen events like this on television, but as it turned out, some people really organized lavish parties featuring large chocolate fountains as centerpieces, staff to wait on the guests, and expensive clothes. He wondered if, unlike him, they were actually having fun, or if it was a performance for all other members of the local upper crust.