Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“Why … why is this turning me on?” Felix blurts.
Thank you so much for making this awkward, I want to say but don’t.
Marshall pulls Felix to his side. “Because you’re a horndog.”
“Right. That.” Felix nods. “What is it with the straight-guy thing? They’re so hot.”
Levi and I speak at the same time but say very different things. “It’s because they’re unobtainable, and that’s appealing,” I say.
“I pass for straight? Haven’t had that happen for a few years.”
“Oh, sorry,” Felix says. “I shouldn’t have assumed.” But then his face lights up. “Wait. You went to high school with them.” He points to me and Brady. “You’re gay. Did you and Brady ever—”
“Nope,” I cut in. “Not going there.”
Levi smiles over at me.
Felix gasps. “Are you the one who took Peyton’s guy virginity? The one he claims made him realize he was super straight?”
Levi laughs. “Ouch, Pey. That cuts so deep.”
Felix jumps up and down. “Oh my God, this is so much fun.”
“And we’re going to need to start drinking,” I say. “Like, right now.”
I grab Levi’s wrist, take the wine he brought off the table, and lead him to the kitchen to our stash of red Solo cups.
“Football players are so classy,” Levi says as I pour us drinks.
“Hey, I was going to start on the hard stuff, but as you put it, you need something to line your stomach first.”
“Red wine wasn’t on the list of options to do that.”
“I meant we can drink this before eating pie.” I take a huge gulp and cringe. “This tastes expensive.”
“So, so, so classy,” Levi deadpans.
“Let’s go out back. We have a huge yard and couches and stuff.”
“You don’t want to hang with your brother and … whoever that little guy was?”
“That was Felix, and no. It’s bad enough having to field all the jokes that Brady will use as ammunition. Both of them together is impossible.”
“Okay, so Brady, Felix, and who was the big guy?”
“Marshall. Felix’s boyfriend. But there’s really no need to try to memorize names. You’ll want to give up when the team shows their faces.”
“Just how many people are coming to this thing?”
I try to calculate a guess. “Maybe forty? Fifty?”
“Damn. Tonight is going to get messy, isn’t it?”
I nudge him. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
levi
It’s been a long time since I’ve been to this type of party. Sure, back in Boston, we’d drink and hang out, but it usually involved some type of study session beforehand and an early night because there was no such thing as a day off from Harvard. If you didn’t have classes, you had study groups, assignments, or meetings with professors you can’t be hungover for.
And I wasn’t lying when I said it’s been a while since I’ve drunk this much.
Peyton hasn’t left my side on the couch in the backyard all night except to get us more drinks. Or pie. He appears to be alternating between drinks and pie, and fuck, he can eat a lot without feeling sick.
I’m slumped backward on the couch, leaning my head against the cushions, and I shudder. “Okay, don’t think of the word ‘sick.’”
Peyton stares at me over his shoulder. “Good tip. You feeling vomity? Need me to take you to the bathroom?”
There are deep laughs, but they sound far away. Or really close. I don’t know.
People have been approaching Peyton all night, talking about football and basically kissing his ass.
“Eww, don’t say ass.”
“I didn’t. I said vomity.”
Reflux hits bad, and I get a taste of pie trying to come back up.
“Oh, shit. I didn’t think you actually meant it.” Peyton wraps his arms around me, and I swallow down the vomit. “Can you stand?”
“I can try.”
“Love the confidence. Okay, ready?” Peyton helps me up, and I’m a little wobbly, but nothing major.
He keeps his arm around me the whole way to his bedroom and even while he kicks the door to his bathroom open.
“How are you not drunk?” I ask.
“All the pie. Plus, I am drunk. Just not as drunk as you.”
“I don’t think Hemingway was ever as drunk as I am right now.”
“And here I was hoping we could fool around when everyone goes home.”
“Drunk sex is fun.”
“When you’re this out of it, it’s a felony.” He closes the lid to the toilet and plonks me down.
The whole bathroom spins. “Fair enough. Am I moving, or is the wall?”
“You kinda look like it’s hard to hold your head up.”
“Oh, cool. Drinking gives me the cognitive function of a baby.”
“And yet, you’re using words like ‘cognitive function’ and not even slurring. You really are a Vanderbilt.”
“Ergh. I don’t want to be a Vanderbilt.”
“Ah. You can take the boy out of the Vanderbilt, but you can’t take the Vanderbilt out of the boy.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense.” Does it?
Peyton gestures to me. “Exhibit A. Picking on my grammar while drunk off his tits.”