Page 22 of A Minute More
Simon grabs a kitchen towel and wipes down the pan he just cleaned, almost meticulously, and sets it on the counter.
“Like do you have hobbies? Another side gig? An OnlyFans?”
His cheeks darken and he shakes his head. “My OnlyFans is only for my fans.”
My eyes widen at that and a small smile plays on his lips. Oh, so Simon has a sense of humor. Since when? And why do I like it so much?
“Ah, maybe I should find out your account and subscribe.”
His eyes flare and he wets his lips. “That would be a terrible idea.”
I bob my head. “Yeah. I know, man. I was only joking.” I don’t know why I was even teasing him to begin with. I’m not into guys. I mean, they can be aesthetically pleasing to the eyes, but I’m not really into watching them fuck.
I don’t think so at least.
Hmm….
“I’ll take you back to your car.”
“I can get a Lyft or something.”
“No. It’s fine.”
He grabs his keys and moves to the door, brushing past me as he does. I can smell his subtle scent, a bit like pine and sage. It’s earthy and masculine, and I inhale again just because I like it. Liked it last night. Like it this morning. The guy smells fucking good.
“You okay?” he asks when he catches me sniffing.
“Totally fine. Just some allergies,” I lie.
He bobs his head and opens the door, letting me step through before locking it behind us. The walk to his car is quiet, the nervous jangling of his keys bouncing between his fingers.
The beeping of the car door unlocking jolts me slightly, and I slide inside. It’s a bit messier than I was expecting, with papers littering the passenger seat and a box of things in the back, but I just shuffle them to the side and buckle in.
“Sorry about the mess,” he says softly.
“You should see mine. It’s ridiculous. This is clean to me.”
It’s mostly a lie, but I don’t want him to feel bad. I have no idea what these papers are or what that box is. For all I know he never has people in his passenger seat and never thought to make room for them.
We drive in silence back to the pub, the only sound is that of our breathing and the small whine of the air conditioner.
“This is a really nice car.”
“Got it for graduation,” he says and then thrums his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Ah, from college?” I ask, digging for dirt. Any dirt would do. A pebble even.
“No. High school.”
My hands run down my thighs, and I muster up the courage to ask, “No college?”
“No.”
“Why not? Not a fan?” I ask even though I don’t think that’s the case. I think it was in the plans and for some reason, they got derailed.
“No.”
I sigh and lean my head back. A small throb has started behind my eyes, and I close them for a moment. Fuck, I shouldn’t have drank last night so I could have a clear and sound mind this morning. So I could ask the right questions and get the answers I so desperately want.