break point_a mm romance novella by Daya Daniels

Author:Daya Daniels [Daniels, Daya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sayad Books
Published: 2019-01-17T05:00:00+00:00

channing

WE’RE PARKED BENEATH THE Hollywood sign. The nine white forty-five-foot tall letters loom high above and the view from here of the city below and its bright twinkling lights is incredible.

My head lulls to the side.

THUMP.

It finally hits the window.

I exhale a breath, exhausted, since I’ve spent the last hour listening to Harper talk about nothing.

Harper Brian Cooper—twenty-three years old, sushi fan, super smart, owner of an impressive head of mahogany curls and the humblest brown eyes, son of a pair of “fuck-ups” as he calls them who he isn’t close to by a longshot and who he addresses by their first names—a mother who is a super bitch and can’t do without her daily dose of Xanax and a father who’s never been around—university student, spoiled brat—like me, and a boy who I fell deeply in love with the day he purchased me a Steve McQueen belted trench coat as a gift because he said he thought of me as soon as he saw it shining brightly on a rack in Neiman Marcus.

He’s currently gazing out the window, sad expression on his face, yet none of his words reflect it. His cellphone is buzzing away, buzzing, buzzing. I snatch it up and toss it in the glove compartment and then I’m back at the window.

Harper’s communication skills are exhausting…

Ask Harper a question and you get another question. Ask Harper how he’s feeling and he encourages you to guess. Ask Harper what he wants to eat for dinner and he tells you to go with whatever you want.

The lack of direction is enough to drive a dude fucking mental!

Sigh.

I’m more direct.

I say what I want, how I feel, what I don’t like, what I need.

Communication is such a simple thing when it’s direct.

It’s people who complicate it.

So many fucking games.

Harper and I have been together for a month now, not long. But I love him…I think.

No, I’m sure of it.

Fuck.

Was Rupert right about that shit about how I’m still figuring myself out?

The white Audi R8 coupe idles and Billie Holiday’s “Crazy He Calls Me” drifts from the stereo.

Reaching out, I place a hand on Harper’s shoulder. Instantly his eyes meet mine and I can’t help but focus on his pretty mouth. “What’s really the problem?” I shift in my seat, my dick solid as a steel peg. If I knew that after dinner tonight would be like this, I can’t say I’d be sitting here right now, unexpectedly finding myself in couples’ therapy without the therapist.

“I don’t know, Channing, I don’t want to talk about it.”

I can’t tell you the number of times Harper has almost told me about all the details about his life. Each time, he gets cold feet and tells me it’s pointless, too depressing and makes him too sad. So, I move on.

“Then why did we come out here?”

His mouth twists. “Because I like the spectacular view.”

“Oh, right.”

“Yeah.” My fingers weave their way into his hair and settle there, then I play with the strands. “I’ve missed you.

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