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Thank you to the following amazing readers who helped clean up this manuscript. All existing errors are my fault. (I probably added them in during my last read through. I couldn’t help doing it one last time!) Gabi, Xia Xia Lake and Ann-C. Thank you…
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Chris is a writer from Midwest America and shaped by the rural township of his youth and his extended family, almost all of whom still live within ten minutes of each other. He dreams of converting one of his dad’s gas-guzzling antique Chris Crafts…
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In the next book, The Companion , the slow-burn romance between Chris and Mark continues. Mistakes are made, secrets are revealed and the two men fall in love… or already are in love. It’s hard to say. An asexual man has met a male model... and they…
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So Mark was right. I enjoyed the wedding. My suit, hair and contacts earned me a lot of compliments. I was able to laugh them off with a quick ‘thank you’. It was a normal family wedding. I won’t bore you with the details, but there was one…
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That Saturday after tennis, the day after buying me that damn suit, Mark drove me back to his place because we had decided to drive together to the courts. “Come on upstairs,” he said. “It’s almost game time, anyways.” It was twelve. We had three…
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“I'm taking you to get your hair cut.” That was what Mark said two nights ago. Somehow that morphed into him getting me a haircut, getting me contacts, and buying me a suit. I didn't own a suit, which Mark thought was a crime. I told him I was going…
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The next Friday before our workout, Mark forced me to go to his place two hours early. “Why?” I asked. “You’ll see.” He didn’t give me any hints, which was mildly frustrating. Sometimes he would give me clues as to what secret he had planned (and…
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Everything was going so smoothly. Too smoothly. Mark and I were supposed to be halfway done with his third paper. It was our third week of being friends and it was starting to dawn on me how he was such a great guy. He treated me so well, too well.…
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The next Wednesday was similar to the Wednesday before and was a template for the Wednesdays yet to come. We met at Mark’s place and walked to his gym. He talked a lot during the workout, but also made sure I did the exercises properly. He made sure…
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That Saturday, I called Mark early in the morning, to which he groggily yelled at me for ‘being a little bitch’. Then I called him later and explained that he would never drunk text me again. He repeated his little bitch insult. It was one in the…
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By that Friday, I was much happier with Mark’s effort on the paper front. He had delivered on his promise—actually, he over-delivered. He had apparently read a lot of articles Wednesday night and then on Thursday he worked through quite a few…
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[Author's Note: The upcoming section does not contain my real name, just as Mark is not actually Mark Wolff. I have obscured both our names, but not as cleverly as I probably should have. Just know that my odd name is odd, and my nickname is food…
Christopher X Sullivan © . All rights reserved.