Someone to Build Me Up chapter 26 is up on Patreon and Kindle Vella, and it's time for the aaaaaaangst!!!!
The thought that I've been ghosted, or that this had never been more than a temporary thing for Marcus, seeps in through every crack in my thoughts. After all, it's not like we'd ever talked about a different arrangement. We hadn't really talked about anything that might happen after the wedding.
Had I missed my chance?
But don't worry—the next two chapters are already finished (the LAST two chapters, actually), and you'll get some resolution soon!
Someone to Build Me Up chapter 25 is up on Patreon and Kindle Vella and it's a spicy one, kiddos. 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️
—
He licks a trickle of water from his lips. "I'd like you to watch," he says, voice like gravel. His line of sight drags me beyond the shower curtain to the bathroom mirror. "I want you to see how gorgeous you are in pleasure."
—
Candace has something to say to Zack, and Marcus delivers on his offer.
No time to make a reel today, but Someone to Build Me Up chapter 21 is up on Patreon and Kindle Vella.
(Ream is not working for some reason but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )
"I don't often get drunk. I don't think I like it." He releases a sigh that would knock over a line of school children. "Are we having an earthquake? The overhead light is moving."
The overhead light is mounted flush with the ceiling, actually. In a lot of ways, I'm glad I felt super on guard today. It would have been a shitshow if I'd gotten this drunk, too.
"No, you adorable mess, you have what we in the drinking biz call 'the spins.'"
For a moment, it's so quiet that I can hear the phantom sounds of the day ringing in my ears. One down, two to go. I'm so wrecked that I'm not even having a crisis that the guy I'm in love with is lying half naked in bed next to me.
Well, not until he curls up against me and rests his head on my bare shoulder.
Andie finds Evan more interesting than they expected.
Start with the free first chapter on Ream or Patreon.
Evan leaned his head on his hand thoughtfully, like he was admiring a fussy kitten. Irritation sparked in their chest at the thought that he might be looking down on them, but it was snuffed out by the velocity of their heartbeat.
"What? What's that look for?"
"I'm just seeing why you and Nico are such good friends. You're equally pedantic," he said.
Andie suppressed a growl. As a rule, the only people who read them like that were women over age fifty.
"I ought to throw this drink in your face for that. You're lucky the mouth of this can is too narrow."
"Precisely what a pedantic person would say." He shook his head, voice breathy and judgmental.
"Wow. Didn't realize you were such a salty bitch."
His snooty expression broke, and his shoulders quaked with laughter. They were broad shoulders, and Andie could see their muscle definition through his shirt (which was a truly heinous shade of magenta). His hair was thick, the color of straw that you might scatter across a garden bed to protect seedlings. Except, instead of coarse, it was gathered in fluffy curls that looked so soft, Andie had to fight the urge to touch.
They shoved their libido away like it was a yappy terrier they were hiding in their shoulder bag on the bus.
After rage quitting Unified Theory Press, Evan has some trouble walking and, you know, figuring out what to do with his life.
Read the first chapter of You're the Most free or join the Slow Burn tier on Patreon or Ream. Excerpt below!
After leaving Unified Theory Press for the last time, Evan Brooks made it all the way to Sandy Boulevard before his brain finally rejoined his body. He stood, blinking up at the marquee to the Hollywood Theater, lightheaded enough to wonder if he was actually awake right now or if he'd just imagined it all.
When someone brushed past him, surrounded by a stink-cloud of skunk weed, he yelped.
"Arrr, you're blocking the crossroads, matey," said a dirty man in a frayed, stained red coat. There was a green wooden parrot somehow fixed to his shoulder, and he was wearing an eye patch, bandana, and high black combat boots. Yup. Jury was still out on whether he was hallucinating.
A woman in a fleece jacket and prescription sunglasses weaved around him, sighing dramatically. It was then that he realized this was all real, and he was having his personal crisis in one of the most inconvenient places possible to everyone around him. That point was underscored by a blaring horn to his left. Someone with a long black beard and a Blazers cap behind the wheel of a vintage BMW sneered at him.
"Okay, okay, fuck, I'm going," Evan said out loud.
"Go back to Palm Springs, cocksucker," the guy shouted out his open window.
"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," Evan shouted back before he could reconsider, because apparently he was in self-destruct mode but also fuck that guy. Fortunately for him, the guy had already zipped around the corner before the words were out of his mouth.
Evan felt the inexorable laughter coming to a boil in his stomach. Fortunately, he made it all the way to the other side of the street before it came out of him in a continuous stream of cackles. The hysteria really took hold, as he stumbled over to the bench facing the doors of the theater.
He leaned his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands as he let the madness truly take over. Because he didn't have anything else to do for the rest of the day, or the foreseeable future.
He seriously just did that. He just quit his job. No two weeks notice, no formal letter of resignation—just pure spite and impulsiveness.
Marcus sets the pita down and arrests me with his stare. "As your trainer, I must insist that you not say negative things about your own body. It is doing exactly what it is supposed to do to keep you alive, and you—"
He clamps down on whatever he was about to say, and bites his lip as if to prevent anything else from coming out.
"I what?"
"I do not want to be inappropriate," he says, turning away from me to awkwardly scoop green olives onto his plate.
If I weren't already eating lunch, this would have made me start salivating.
"Nope. You've gotta tell us now." Ellie backs me up from across the table. Sometimes her audacity comes in handy, when it isn't directed at me (and honestly, sometimes when it is, too). "It should be obvious that you're not sitting with people who like to be appropriate."
He sets the spoon back in its plastic container—one of the only things I bought pre-prepared. Because seriously, who makes their own olives? He takes a long sip of his white wine, then leans inward, speaking in a conspiratorial voice.
"Do not tell my fitness compatriots this, but I view a little extra body fat as a sign of a life well lived in many cases." He focuses on me. "Particularly in your case."
Zack finally gets Marcus to come over for lunch and is starting to see some possibilities.
Read the first chapter of Someone to Build Me Up here.
Someone to Build Me Up tells the story of Zack, an English professor fresh out of a long term relationship, and Marcus, his reserved yet fascinating personal trainer. When Zack needs an emergency fake boyfriend to take to his sister's wedding, Marcus, to his surprised delight, steps up. Now, they just have to navigate their baggage, their boundaries, and eventually, their true feelings for one another.
If you like fake dating and guys who should really let themselves have nice things, this is very likely your jam.
