Chapter Two James

Isighed as I tossed my phone into my passenger seat. It didn't matter how many dates I went on with guys or what kind of plans we'd made, they always canceled after we had sex and I never heard from them again.

This time, I was sitting in the parking lot of the grocery store where I was just about to go in and get the supplies for the nice dinner I'd planned for the pair of us. It was supposed to be a sort of decadent French dish made with fish, pastry, and lots of butter. I didn't really know if I had the skills to make it, but recipes were easy enough to follow and this one didn't seem that difficult.

But I saw no point in going through the trouble now, especially since I knew I'd never be seeing Ray again. He wasn't the most interesting person, but he treated me decently. I wasn't a fan of his smoking, but then again, how picky could I be in such a small town? It wasn't like there were a ton of guys to choose from. And now, besides the tourists, I'd been fucked and dumped by most of them.

That's the way it always went. As soon as guys got what they wanted from me, they fucked off. I wasn't sure if it was my ass, my dick, or my personality that was driving them away, but I was starting to take it personally. But I always got the same excuse. Something unexpected always came up. They'd let me know when they could reschedule, and then radio silence.

I guess that was dating apps for you. Then again, being a twenty-two-year-old twink in the gay world was a recipe for getting used and tossed out with the trash. Everyone had a fantasy, especially older men, about being with guys that looked like me. And once they got it, they didn't want to keep it. And it didn't matter how many dates I waited before putting out, the results were always the same. It turned out Ray was no different from any of the others in the end, no matter how much he tried to convince me otherwise. I was just a fantasy to him.

It wasn't like I chose to be a twink, either. I wasn't one of those guys that starved myself or avoided any sort of physical activity to stay small. It just sort of happened. I'd always been a little on the shorter side and my metabolism was fast. To some I'd won the genetic lottery, but to me I was shrimpy and gaunt. Guys seemed to like it, just not enough to stick around.

Now I'll admit I'm young and na?ve. But I'd also done a lot of work to make sure I wasn't just some young mean thing that liked to make people feel bad for fun. I was genuine and mature for my age. Or at least I thought I was. None of my friends wanted to hang out with me because I was too boring. While they wanted to go get blackout drunk every single night after work, I wanted to stay at home and have a nice relaxing evening reading a book. I wasn't the wild kid that everyone expected me to be.

Maybe that's what was driving guys away.

I wasn't sure. However, I was sure that I now had no plans for dinner and there was nothing in my fridge that really sounded good. So, I figured I might as well forget the fish and go pick out something a little more my style.

It was going to be a chicken nugget sort of night.

With a deep sigh, I scooped up my phone, grabbed my wallet, and headed into the store. It was a Friday night, and the place was bustling. Of course, I expected nothing else in the middle of July. The days were hot, the beaches were packed, and Ludington was the center of all tourism for at least sixty miles. The place was practically overrun in the summer with families and older folks on vacation. That meant a lot of guys for me to choose from, but they'd all have to go home, eventually.

Short term dating was all I seemed to be good at anyway…

I tucked a basket into the crook of my arm and headed toward the frozen food section. The first thing on my list was chicken nuggets. And, since I didn't have to worry about having a guy over or bottoming that night, I could pretty much eat whatever the fuck I wanted. Before I even left the frozen section, I already had chicken nuggets, tater tots, and a pint of ice cream with my name on it.

But I couldn't just buy food for tonight. My fridge had been looking sparse for a while, so I figured I might as well grab a few staples. Wandering through the store, I slowly filled up my basket to the point where I wished I'd gotten a cart instead. My lithe form was not built for carrying heavy things, and my basket was becoming unwieldy.

However, I managed to practically drag the thing up to the self checkout because, god forbid, I have to make small talk with some stranger who'd had their soul consumed by retail work. Instead, I waited in line for however long it would take to get out of there without having to say a word to anyone. For as many dates as I went on, you'd think I would be better at talking to strangers. But usually I avoided it at all costs. I was awkward at the best of times and my small talk skills were a solid negative ten.

Finally, when an old woman struggling with her three screaming kids left one of the checkout kiosks, it was my turn.

I strode toward the checkout quickly, not wanting to lose my chance or look like I was dawdling. In my haste, I didn't see a man pulling his cart out to leave, and I ran right into the side of it, dropping my basket to the ground.

"Oh my god!" I cried, embarrassment flooding through my system as I crouched down to collect my things. "I'm so sorry!"

"You're fine," he replied, his tone monotonous. "It was my fault. I got in your way."

He stooped down beside me to try to help gather up my items. Thankfully, I'd already managed to grab the majority. However, there was a family pack of Oreos that I hadn't picked up yet. I reached for it at the same time as the stranger, our hands meeting in mid air.

Now, you know how the world stops when awkward things like this happen? And then in a split second, you begin overthinking everything? Why are my hands so sweaty? Does he think I'm hitting on him? Why did my finger twitch like that? Did I just caress him weirdly by accident?

All of that rushed through my mind at the same time. However, that feeling was followed up by a strange but delightful tingling sensation and a sudden rush of goosebumps over my arms. I yanked my hand away, surprised and oddly a little turned on by this stranger.

"Sorry," I muttered, glancing up into those warm brown eyes of his. I noticed a stray strand of sandy blond hair across his forehead and a small scar on his lip. Embarrassment rushed through me again, and I tore my gaze away.

"Here," he replied, seemingly unfazed by the entire exchange. He held out my massive family pack of Oreos.

"Thanks," I muttered, taking them a bit too quickly. Then, like an idiot, I stood there sheepishly, waiting for him to make the first move.

"No problem."

Without even so much as a second glance, he turned his cart away and strode toward the entrance. I watched him go for a moment, completely oblivious to everything else going on around me.

"Number four is open," a gravely voice said next to me.

"Right!" I blurted, snapping back to reality. I was still standing in the middle of the self checkout where the stranger had left me. "Sorry!"

I ran to the open spot, scanning all my items at the speed of light. In less than a minute, I was done and practically running out of the store. It wasn't until I collapsed into the driver's seat of my car that I finally took a deep breath.

What the fuck was that all about?

Nobody got me to freeze up like that. Ever. And somehow, after all these dates where I felt cool and confident, some complete stranger caught me off guard and totally wigged me out. It was totally out of the norm for me.

Of course, he was really fucking cute, so that didn't help. Those deep brown eyes of his and the way his hair was just the right amount of messy. Talk about swoon worthy. And that scar on his lip? I bet that had a cool story to go with it.

However, judging by his clothes, his lack of bling, and the fact that he was wearing a ratty pair of dad sneakers, I was almost certain he was straight. No self-respecting gay man would wear shoes like that outside of the house. Seriously. Not to mention, the way he spoke and carried himself didn't read as the type that would be into men.

Then again, maybe I was the one being judgemental.

Maybe that's why guys never stuck around…

Was I a judgy person?

I wasn't sure. However, the one thing I was sure of was that I'd spend the rest of my night and probably most of tomorrow overthinking it and making myself feel bad. So at least in that way, I had something to do with my evening now.

With a sigh, I put the car into drive and headed for home.

By myself.

At least I had chicken nuggies.