“Good to know that you’ll stroke things if they deserve it.” He said, with the barest hint of a smirk.
Unless I was really into someone, a charged comeback like Henry’s would turn me off. Henry turned me on. Probablybecause I’d stroke every bit of him if I got the chance. “Hopefully the reverse holds true.”
“Count on it.” He tightened his fingers around mine.
Those three words went straight to my cock. The angsty warble in my stomach from putting myself out there became a swarm of butterflies thinking about what would happen later. “Nice.”
“Since you studied the ‘Visit Frederick’ website, what would you like to do when we’re there?”
The bucket of cold water Henry had thrown on our flirting was probably a good thing. We still had an hour drive ahead of us. Still, I couldn’t just let it go. “Changing topics much?”
“You know it. Let’s get there safely, then you can throw all the double entendres you like at me.”
I liked the flirty banter better, but knowing it was welcome was more than enough. “When I searched the website, nothing jumped out at me that we had to do. I got the addresses of the antique shops and mapped out a good route for a run, but that’s about it. We can do whatever you wanted.”
“That works. I have a reservation at Bolt for 7:30.”
When Henry said he’d gotten reservations at a nice restaurant, I didn’t think he meant one whose website said you needed to book days, even weeks, in advance. “How’d you manage to snag a table on two days’ notice?”
“I used the company name.”
The reminder that we were from different worlds shouldn’t have hit me in the gut like it did. We’d supposedly gotten past this issue, but my brain didn’t get the message. “Gotcha.”
An awkward silence followed. It was supposed to be a simple drive in my dream car. Not a date with a sleepover. I should never have let Brenda fill my head with the idea I was good enough for Henry. Objectively, I had little to offer that couldn’t be found in much higher-end models. Once Henry got passedthe newness, and kicked the tires a bit more, he’d realize I wasn’t the right one.
“Trevor told me you’re a serious runner. Said you won a bunch of medals in college.”
Henry had somehow clued in to my mindset and tried to steer the conversation to something positive about me. His subtle attempts to make me feel good about myself were going to ensure my heart got shattered when we didn’t work out. “Before I answer you, I want to say thanks. Not many guys would’ve picked up on what I was feeling and moved the conversation like you did.”
Henry’s posture was more rigid, and he kept his eyes on the road. “And I thought I wasn’t being obvious. Sorry.”
As a rule, manipulating someone’s emotions was inherently bad, but I could forgive Henry this one time because it came from a good place. “You get points for the effort. But how did that even come up? ‘Hey, Henry great to see you. Did you want to stay for dinner? We’re having chicken. My roommate got a cross-country scholarship to Fordham. How’s your mom?’”
My attempt at humor didn’t get a laugh, but it worked well enough as Henry visibly relaxed. “Your bedroom is next to the bathroom. I saw the trophies and medals and I asked Trevor.”
I wasn’t sure which was worse, the weird conversation while I was out or that he’d had a chance to see I was a borderline slob. “I couldn’t store them at home because, you know.” My asshole brother would be sure to throw them out the minute I left.
“What got you into running?”
Unfortunately for Henry, why I excelled at running involved another miserable Fenton Family memory. “My brother is six years older than me. As I mentioned yesterday, he’s a total tool. Has been since I was little. He used to pick on me every chance he got. In my family, boys needed to man up. It didn’t matter what Jacob did, Dad always found a reason to excuse it and tellme to toughen up. Since I couldn’t win a fight with my brother no matter how much I toughened up, I learned to run away.”
“That worked? I mean wasn’t he faster than you since he was older.”
This is why visuals were so important. Not that I had a picture of my family, nor would Ieverproudly share it with anyone. “In theory you’d be right, but everyone in my family except me, is short and, being polite, we’ll say they’re compact.”
“Compact?”
So much for politically correct. “Fat. Jacob, like everyone else in my family is short andfat.I was always tall and skinny. People figured I was adopted when they saw us together.”
“Adopted?
Henry
Istruggled to keep my expression neutral. None of the reports mentioned the dichotomy. It couldn’t have gone unnoticed, so why wasn’t something this significant noted somewhere?
“Yeah. That or Mom had an affair. Dad even took a paternity test because he couldn’t believe his ‘great Fenton genes’ could’ve produced such a weird kid.”
With each new detail, my estimation of Nick’s family dropped impossibly lower. None of it surprised me. Bullies with low self-esteem picked on anyone they perceived as weaker than them. Outnumbered and alone, as strong as Nick was, he didn’t stand a chance in his family. “Would it be out of line to say I don’t like your father.”
