Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 32051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
“Seb, huh?” A frown mars his beautiful features. “He’s the gay one you grind on every show?”
My insides warm at the pure jealousy oozing from him. “Yep, that’d be the one.”
I probably owe him an explanation, but I don’t want to give it right now.
He doesn’t give anything extra either. “And you thought I stood you up? I bought my own ticket.”
“I didn’t know what else to think. We haven’t seen each other in a decade.”
“Fair enough.” Locke leans back in the seat. “So, let’s get the last ten years out of the way and play catch up. Starting with … worst date you’ve ever had.”
I eye him skeptically. “You really want to do this?”
“Why not? If we were mature enough to break up so we could hook up without any guilt, we should be mature enough to talk about it now we’re adults.”
“You might be an adult. I didn’t really mature much after you left.”
Locke smiles again, and it’s a head trip. The boy I loved is right there. Smiling at me. Looking so damn irresistible and grown-up and put together.
And here I am shirtless. Like I don’t even know how to dress myself.
Yeah, that’s about right.
“Fine,” I relent, “but rules. I only want to hear about your shit dates. No sweet boyfriends or hot, perfect hookups with guys who have bigger dicks than me.”
“Wait, that’ll mean I can’t talk about any hookups.” The fucker grins.
“Ooh, burn. I’d be offended if we both didn’t know how untrue that is. You had your hand wrapped around this bad boy not ten minutes ago.” I grip my junk. Because I’m a classy act.
“When we started dating in high school, I remember thinking I was bad at giving head because I couldn’t fit all of you in my mouth.”
I cup his cheek. “Oh, honey, size has nothing to do with that. You are bad at giving head.”
He swats my hand away. “Fuck you.”
“One, you already did. And two, I had to get you back for the dick size joke.”
He nods. “Good. For a second there, I thought I was going to have to prove myself.”
“Damn it! I take it back. You’re terrible, no good, just horrible at sucking dick and need practice.”
“Maybe later. I want to know about your life.”
“Okay then.” I turn and face him. “The important bits. Worst date was a total slimeball who said he was a music producer and had connections. Spoiler: he did not.”
“What was his name?”
“Every single guy I met that first year in LA.”
Locke laughs.
“Out with it. Your worst date.”
“I went out with a guy in Paris, he stuck me with the bill, and then after I paid and we left the restaurant, he pickpocketed me while kissing me goodnight.”
I wince. “Ooh, brutal. I was once thrown up on.”
Locke’s face lights up. “No way.”
“And get this, Mr. Vomit is now with another guy I hooked up with who said he doesn’t do relationships.”
“H-have you had anyone serious since …”
“Nah. This lifestyle isn’t conducive for successful relationships.” I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth. “But, I mean, for the right person—”
He squeezes my hand. “It’s okay, I get it. Living and working in Sin City isn’t exactly the most innocent. It’s probably tenfold on tour.”
I shake my head. “I can’t believe you ended up back in Nevada after all this time.”
“I went to see your mom once.”
I pull back. “She never told me.”
“Her house was empty. It was in between getting my undergrad and starting my master’s.”
“Ah. Yeah, she moved out to LA to be closer to me …” I count … “About seven years ago? Now she lives in the house next door to mine.”
“That can’t be good for your sex life.”
I laugh. “I don’t bring any guys back to my place.”
“I would say that’s smart seeing as you’re a celebrity and everything, but is it really smart going to theirs? What if they lock you in their basement?”
“Hasn’t happened yet, but could you imagine album sales if I got kidnapped?”
Locke frowns. “We may need to reassess your priorities.”
Even though it’s a joke, I get caught on the “we.”
I like the “we.” I want us to be a we again.
“I think we’re all caught up,” I whisper. Without hesitation, I press my mouth to his.
Hesitation builds on his lips until he pulls back. “Wait, I had one more question. It’s been driving me crazy for years. It almost made me break my block ban.”
I’m intrigued now. “What is it?”
“Cash Me Outside? Really?”
I burst out laughing. “Right? Man, I’ve had some shitty band names over the years: Cashed Up, Loaded Cash, Cash 22 … but the one to hit it famous is a viral pop culture reference from 2016 hardly anyone remembers.”
“I wanted to smack you upside the head.”
“Oh, you wanna cash me outside, how ’bout dat?”