Feinted Love by Elle Keaton

Author:Elle Keaton [Keaton, Elle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dirty Dog Press LLC

17

Chapter Seventeen—Arnie

* * *

I stumble up the hill to my apartment building. It’s still warm out, and the sun is setting, but I don’t pay attention to the show tonight. My brain is churning a million miles an hour—a kaleidoscope of thoughts, and none I’m able to focus properly on; they twirl and float just out of my reach.

Tobias, dinner, Will, my mom. Tobias laughing as Mom told a story about when I tried out for Pee Wee football—spoiler alert, I didn’t make the team—all mixed with the drinks and delicious food. The job interview. The job interview I haven’t told Tobias about yet. Yet. The fact that I think I like Will. I want to hate him, but seeing my mom laugh and lean into him made all the difference. I’m not excited to meet his kids, but I know it’s coming.

With all these feelings swirling around, I’m not paying as much attention as maybe I should be when I let myself into the studio.

Lost in my very confusing and distracting thoughts, I push the door open and flick the overhead light on at the same time. At first I don’t know what I’m seeing, until my eyes move from the stranger’s face full of cock upward and I recognize Duff’s shocked expression. And then I’m wishing I hadn’t; I’m wishing there really was something like eye bleach or brain bleach, because I’m never going to be able to erase this from my mind.

“Jesus Christ, Duff!” I shriek, loudly enough our neighbors can probably hear me over their TV shows.

Scrabbling backward along the wall with my eyes squeezed shut, I slam the light back off so I can’t see my roommate’s dick in someone else’s mouth. Not that I want it in my—no, no, no, no, I can’t even go there—I just have no desire to see Duff’s, or some stranger’s, junk.

Even with the lights off, it’s never truly dark in our studio. I can still see Duff and blow-job guy, so I sidle into the kitchenette and turn my back to the spectacle.

“What the ever-loving fucking hell… have… have you never heard of putting a sock on the door? Even me, no-sex Arnie, has heard of that. What the hell?” I sputter as I open the refrigerator door and pretend to look for something inside.

“Arnie?”

“Seriously, Duff, what the fuck?” I say to the mayonnaise.

“Arnie!”

“What?”

Duff says, with what I think is ill-placed impatience, “Would you please shut the front door? I’m sure we don’t need any of the neighbors over here.”

Huffing, I edge across the small space and close the door. As much as I want to slam it, I manage to shut it quietly.

When I turn my attention back to my roommate, Duff, thankfully, is pulling his pants back up, and the other guy—as usual, no one I’ve met before—is also straightening his clothes.

“I can’t even—” I shake my head, belatedly realizing the other guy is not Charley, with whom Duff supposedly has been on a date. This guy is toned and muscly.

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