Page 73 of A Minute More

“Yeah. Same.”

It’s lame but my brain is still not functioning completely. Every time with him just gets hotter and hotter. Pretty soon I’m not going to have a brain left. He’s going to have incinerated it.

A deep-fried brain.

“Come home with me,” I say. “I don’t want to spend the weekend without you.”

He sighs and stands up on shaking legs. I can feel the tremble in his hand as he presses it to my bare chest, right above my thumping heart.

“I’m your dream, remember?” I tease, and Simon’s already red cheeks darken. “Come home with me and meet my mom and sister.”

“Are you out to them? Or am I going to have to pretend?”

“I’m not, but I’ll tell them about us. I’m not worried.”

He doesn’t believe me and he still hasn’t given me an answer yet.

“Can I think on it?” he asks, and I nod because what else can I say? I don’t want to pressure him, don’t want him to enter into something he doesn’t want. And I might be his dream, but that doesn’t mean things still won’t end when he leaves in August. He might not want to continue.

We just began.

And maybe this is where we end.

CHAPTER10

SIMON

Wesley left this morning, sneaking out while I was still asleep. But not before kissing me softly on the cheek. I stirred, but pretended not to wake because I wasn’t sure what to say to him.

I want to go with him this weekend, but at what cost?

It’s too soon.

That’s what everyone tells me. That’s what my brain tells me.

And yet my heart doesn’t care.

I didn’t lie when I said Wesley is my dream. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

But I’m leaving in August.

And it’s too soon.

I putter around the apartment, making myself a strong espresso and drinking it far too fast. My stomach churns so I gulp down some water too. Now it’s just a sloshing mess in there. So I piss and shower and brush my teeth for far too long. I have the cleanest teeth in Iowa at this point.

I stare at my tired eyes in the mirror and remember how alive I felt just hours ago—with him in my arms, with my mouth around his cock.

He’s surprised me in more ways than one. I never thought I stood a chance with him. Never. And then I started to hope. Started to dream.

That’s the mistake I made. I let myself think of the future.

Let myself think about what I want.

When have I ever done that? Not recently. Not for a very long time.

“Fuck,” I mutter as I move to the bedroom and grab a duffel bag and stuff it full of clothes. I don’t look at what I’m bringing, but I pack anyway. My brain tells me not to, that it’s all moving too fast, but my heart propels me forward.

As I’m walking to the car, my phone rings and I stare down at it.

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