Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“I’m proud of you,” Bryson whispered.
“One game? I can do better than that.”
He chuckled. “I’m sure you will. You’re a force of nature. The whole town thinks you’re pretty amazing.”
“How about you?”
“Me especially.” He smiled and my God, that smile was the sun and the moon and the stars. “I’m very glad you’re here. I think this is where you’re supposed to be.”
I didn’t respond…not with words, anyway. I kissed him and did my best to pour everything I was feeling into it. Gratitude, affection, desire, and something that kind of scared the hell out of me.
19
BRYSON
Toronto in late January was not for the thin-blooded. A brutally cold wind whipped off of Lake Ontario, seeping under my down jacket as Smitty and I hustled into his luxury lakefront apartment building.
Yes, Toronto. Canada. I’d flown with my secret-boyfriend-slash-neighbor from Burlington to Toronto, complete with an hour-long layover in New York City. And no, that didn’t mean the world finally knew there was more between us than friendship. Smitty’s team happened to have a bye the same weekend Jake was playing in Toronto. Smitty had to move out of his apartment, and the timing worked out perfectly.
Like a lucky coincidence.
But no one knew.
No, we didn’t tell anyone we were here together.
Don’t get me wrong…a few people knew we’d be in Toronto at the same time, but they assumed we had separate business in the city, which was true.
But we were together. So add another lie of omission to my list of sins. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know how to act casual about our “friendship” without giving myself away.
Something had changed. I couldn’t put a finger on the day or time, but it was impossible to deny I’d developed real feelings for Smitty. I was proud of him, I was enamored of him, I was horny for him. He made me laugh, think, and…hope.
For the first time in forever, I wasn’t alone. I had someone who wanted to be with me, talk to me, play games with me, share pieces of his day and life. Someone who wanted to hold me. There was no way to pretend this was just sex anymore. We’d simply become more. It wasn’t overnight, of course, but in a way, it felt like a blindfold had been stripped away and everything about us was so…obvious.
We clicked on every level. We’d become good friends who shared unpleasant truths. We respected each other, cheered wins and consoled losses. In private, we were inseparable. And in the days and weeks after the holidays, we gave ourselves permission to step out of our comfort zone and be friends in public.
Nothing crazy, but we had coffee together at Rise and Grind, met for lunch or dinner at the diner, shoveled snow, and yeah, I went to a few games. It wasn’t a huge stretch to let our friends know we’d be in Toronto at the same time, but we didn’t talk about it. And we didn’t talk about feelings or intentions.
I was used to protecting my privacy—and Jake’s, for that matter. I didn’t know how to act with a “boyfriend.” If that’s what we were. We hadn’t discussed labels and Smitty wasn’t out, so maybe it didn’t matter. I just knew I wanted him, and the wanting made me nervous.
Yet when I was with Smitty, I’d wonder what I was so worried about. Who wouldn’t want to hitch their wagon to a six-foot five beefcake who owned Dragon Ball Z VHS tapes and a well-preserved Pokémon card collection?
I shrugged off my coat and hung it on one of the barstools at the island in the sleek, contemporary kitchen and peered into the box filled with childhood memorabilia.
“Are you giving that stuff away or storing it?” I asked.
Smitty gasped in mock horror. “Are you joking? This box is getting a fast pass to Elmwood.”
I raised my brows. “This might be a touchy question, but…why? Do you even own a VHS machine?”
“No.”
“I see. And what are you going to do with those cards? You could probably sell them. Just thinking out loud, of course.”
He blinked…fifty times. At first, I chuckled ’cause it was mildly amusing. But the longer he stared and blinked, willing me to retract my statement and grow a heart, the funnier it became. My laughter morphed into unruly, knee-slapping hysteria. I repeat…this wasn’t funny, but he was.
After what felt like an hour, Smitty pointed at the door. “Out, you big…meanie.”
And now I was doubled over, heaving desperate gulps of oxygen. This was what he did to me. I collapsed onto the nearest barstool and wiped tears from my eyes. My cheeks and stomach muscles hurt from laughing so hard. I didn’t dare look at him for fear he’d set me off again.
I pulled myself together and arranged my features into a mature tight-lipped expression, surprised to find Smitty standing above me, grinning like a fool.