Page 19 of Totally Geeked

Now’s your chance. Tell him you were joking and back out. You’re already falling for the guy. You really think teaching him to flirt is the best way to go here?

“Sure.”

Idiot.

I park the truck atLouie's Pizza,and before I can get out, he turns in his seat and asks, “Okay, so how do you flirt?”

Looks like we’re really doing this.

I face him, and it’s like all the nerves he showed waiting to read at the library have transferred into me. Sweat prickles the skin on my back, and my stomach turns in knots.

He pushes up his glasses and brushes a few loose strands of hair behind his ear.

“There, that right there, you can do that,” I say, and he frowns.

“Huh?”

“The hair thing. Pull your hair out,” I say, and he does, the red waves falling to frame his face beautifully. My stomach flips, and I take a breath hoping my nerves aren't showing.

“Now brush your hair behind your ear again but do it slower and hold eye contact with me when you do it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay,” he replies, then his head tilts down a little, his gaze locks onto mine as he reaches up and loops his finger through the loose strands by his chiseled jaw, the back of his fingers brushing against his perfect skin up and over his ear. His tongue swipes at his lower lip, and I gulp, quickly looking away before I reach across and kiss those perfect fucking pink lips.

“How was that?” he asks.

“Good. I mean, great. Yep, do that.”

Chapter eight

Arlo

I flick through thepages of my sketchbook on my bed at Gordon’s. I can’t bring myself to start calling it home. It’s not. I get that I need help with a lot with this cast on, but the whole cooking thing was a fluke. I think as a grown-ass man I can live alone if I want to. I’ve only got a few weeks before the cast comes off, though, so I guess I can suck it up until then.

Yesterday’s reading was amazing. Okay, the truck ride to pizza with Harrison was amazing, the reading was…scary. Gordon warned me that Harrison is a notorious flirt. I hadn’t seen it, not really, not until yesterday, and when he apologized and said he was trying to break the habit like it was a bad thing, I couldn’t hold my lips closed. I always envied those guys through school, the ones who always seemed to know how to say the right thing and look so freaking cool when they do. I tried to flirt with a guy I liked in college and sent half the food hall into hysterics.

I’m that guy. Harrison offered to teach me how to flirt, like it’s something you can actually learn, and I jumped at the chance, but I don’t think he knows what he’s signed up for. Howawkward and pathetic I really am. He said the hair thing was good, but he turned away, and in the pit of my stomach, I have to wonder, was he trying not to laugh?

My brothers were always the smooth ones growing up. For me, the red hair and pale skin brought teasing and insults. For them, it brought a whole other kind of attention. And if I can learn even a small part of that, I might get a date for the first time in years. Shit. It has been years. I try to think back to the last time I was with a guy. It had to be Matthew. My old agent. That asshole led me on just to get his signing bonus from the publishing house, then disappeared. Thank fuck my contract with him only lasted a year, and Gordon insisted I get a lawyer to look over it, or that fucker would be making a commission on this book and possibly any future ones, too.

I stop turning the pages when I land on a sketch of Harrison. It’s from behind, his round ass popped out as he’s waiting for the pitch. My mind immediately strips him down to tight white briefs and I’m reminded of my earlier idea to play with a few…naughty sketches.

I grab the extra sketchbook I brought and sit back in the bed and start to draw. I start with the same position as the sketch in the other book, only in this version, he isn’t holding his arm at the ready for a pitch, he’s holding on to the cock of the batter standing beside him. I play with the sketch, adding color and details like the muscles of his back, the slight gray in his otherwise dark hair. The batter’s next. Only, when I’m done coloring him, I find I’ve basically drawn me, and fucking hell, it looks like I’m enjoying myself. I’ve got my head back, eyes closed, and mouth slightly open in pleasure, the bat is still in my hand but balanced on the ground like it’s holding me up as I’m worked over by his thick long fingers.

My cock throbs, and I set the sketchbook to the side, spit into my palm and slide my hand down my sweats.

My fingers wrap around my thickening cock, and when I give it a slow stroke, my gaze zeros in on the sketch, and now it’s Harrison’s hand I’m imagining is working me over. I picture his thick fingers sliding up and down my shaft, squeezing just a little with every stroke. It’s like I can really see us there, on the baseball field, him crouched in the catcher's position, his round ass out, bouncing up and down as he jerks me off over the home plate. His free hand down his white briefs, stroking himself in time with me, our moaning and heavy breaths coming faster and faster.

“Fuck yeah, Harrison,” I whisper to myself, and my balls pull up tight, my come coating the inside of the sweats.

I definitely need to create more sketches like that.

Thankful for the direct access to the guest bathroom my room at Gordon’s offers, I jump in the shower to wash off. Holding my casted arm out of the open shower door at all times means it takes me twice the time it would have otherwise. I’m careful not to get my hair too wet, given I can't exactly style it properly with this thing on either. I am getting good at throwing it up though, which is good, because it basically lives in a messy bun when I’m writing or sketching to keep it out of my face.

“Hey, Arlo,” Gordon’s voice calls, and my heart races. Shit, did I leave the sketchbook open on the bed?

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