Page 65 of Totally Geeked

“Are we ready to hear a story?” I ask, sitting down on the large cushion in front of the children. The big chair they used to have wasn’t me. I want to be down here with them like Harrison was when he would listen to me read. Sure, it means I have to hold the book up at the side so they can see it, but I'm more comfortable and the kids seem to like it, too.

“Can we read this?” the little boy asks, holding up the book. “My name’s Gordie, too.”

“Wonderful. Yes, let’s start with Gordie Goes Bananas, and then, if you like, we can read something else,” I say, looking across at the other children sitting patiently smiling over at me. A few other children join us on the floor while their parents linger nearby checking out books on the racks surrounding us, and little Gordie passes me the book. I run the pads of my fingers across the shiny surface. Admiring how the colors pop so beautifully and wondering if I will ever get used to seeing my name on a published book.

“Okay, let’s begin,” I say, not even a slight rumble of nerves in my stomach, and I turn the page. The first line comes out easy, and then so does the second. The story flows and the children listen, and it’s amazing, and before I know it, I’ve read Gordie, and three other books and almost an hour has passed.The children like to stop and ask questions, and it’s so cool how their little brains work. Gordie was super excited to learn I had another book coming out until he found out that the main character was Harry and not Gordie.

“But Gordie is the best,” he exclaims, and his mother just shakes her head and smiles.

“Harry is pretty cool, too,” I try to explain, but he’s shaking his head.

“Gordie is the best,” he says again, and I laugh.

“I’ll tell him you said so.”

“Gordie is real?” he asks, and I pull out my phone as the other children all head off and show him a picture of me and my brother.

“That there is me, and there is my other brother, Gordon. He plays for the real Banana Ball team Animal Control.”

“Cool.”

His mother holds out a copy of my book.

“Do you mind if we get you to sign it?” she asks.

“No problem at all,” I say, pushing up from the ground to stand.

“Can we get a picture, too?” she asks, and little Gordie bounces on his toes.

“Sure, you can tag me in it, too, if you put it on socials,” I say, signing the book to Little Gordie and handing it back before posing next to him for the photo.

“Thanks again. Will you be here next week?”

I wasn't sure myself until today, but it was so much more fun than I thought it would be, and I can’t wait to do it all again.

“Absolutely. Story time with Arlo is going to be a regular here on Saturday and Little Gordie is always welcome,” I say, and they leave.

I pull out my phone and text Harrison.

ARLO: It went amazing. It was so much fun, and I met a little Gordie. How was your flight?

HARRISON: That’s amazing! I knew you would crush it. I am almost certain karma is real. Duckie threw up twice on the way, and he dropped one of the sick bags onto my shoe twenty minutes out, so now I smell like vomit, too.

I laugh, send back barf and hysterical laughing emoji, and head home to work on the final drawings for book two. I get them, and the final copy off to my publisher, before settling in with my naughty sketchbook and a bowl of pasta in bed to wait for Harrison’s call. He promised he’d call after dinner.

I pass the time by working on a new sketch. This one has nothing to do with baseball. Instead, it’s a drawing of us from the other night, when I showed him the mirror I bought for my room. Watching our reflections in it was so fucking hot. Another mirror arrived today, and he’s got three more coming. I’m not sure where they are all expected to fit, but the more angles I get to see him the better. I sketch the mirror frame, having it take up most of the page, and then work on what I remember seeing in it, one of his arms behind his head, mouth slightly open, his other hand holding my hip as I straddle his cock and jerk my own. The sketch is rough but the image in my head is not, and my cock likes what it’s reminded of, too, thickening beneath the bed sheets.

I adjust myself, shovel a spoonful of pasta into my mouth and try to focus on the drawing and not my racing horny thoughts. I get in some details like his chest hair, and the curves of the sheets beneath us when my phone rings.

“Perfect timing,” I say, as I answer and his face appears on the screen. I tap the screen to turn on my camera, too.

“Why’s that?” he asks, and I flip the view to show the notebook in my lap.

“Oh, shit,” he says, leaning in so close to the screen that it goes black.

“Where’d you go?” I ask, flipping the camera back.

“A few of the guys were behind me. Sorry, I didn't want them to…”

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