Read A Boy Called Cin for Free Online Page A

on that he's uncomfortable. It's one thing to be pathetic in social situations, but it's another thing entirely for that to be public knowledge.
    Tom's not sure it quite counts as irony that the world sees him as a being composed of pure charisma when he's actually a little terrified of this guy whose name he's forgotten, but it's close enough.
    "It's your fortieth today, isn't it?" the guy asks. Tom nods, wincing at the reminder. Forty years on Earth, and he's trying to hide in the corner at what amounts to his birthday party—though that's not really what it's for, he knows Poppy didn't pick the day by accident—wishing he was anywhere else.
    Well, not anywhere else. His first choice would be back in Cin's dorm room, being reassured that forty isn't that old and he's not a total idiot for chasing after someone completely out of his league. There'd be grocery store cake and chocolate-flavored kisses and Cin would curl up next to him again and whisper "happy birthday" just before they fell asleep.
    "Uh, yeah." Tom realizes too late that he'd forgotten to answer. "Look at that, my brain's going already," he jokes, stomach tied in knots over his lapse in politeness.
    "I'll leave you in peace, then," the guy says, raising his glass in a half-hearted salute, but not obviously insulted or anything. Plenty of people think Tom's kind of a weirdo already, so at least he's not setting a precedent by zoning out.
    Poppy finally arrives in her usual fashion, making an entrance befitting the sequined dress she's wearing—custom-made, as always at these events—and slowly making her way through the crowd to find the birthday boy , as she keeps telling everyone. Tom stays where he is and lets all of the attention fall on her, grateful that for the next few minutes at least, he won't be the most interesting person in the room, and then after, he won't be alone anymore.
    His phone buzzes in his pocket just before Poppy gets to him, and Tom checks it automatically. His stomach flutters when he sees a text from Cin's number that just reads Happy Birthday .
    It's not quite a close-up whisper before bed, but it helps. Tom sends a thank you back.
    Just as he's about to tuck his phone back in his pocket so Poppy doesn't confiscate it, he gets another text.
    I owe you birthday sex .
    Tom laughs nervously and shoves his phone in his suit pocket quickly so there's no risk that Poppy will read it. It's nice to have Cin as something he gets to keep to himself, and he doesn't really want to share him right now. Otherwise, he would have asked him to come to this with him. Tom's got no doubt that people would love Cin, and Cin might be a lot better at this kind of thing that Tom is.
    "You look like you're having a wonderful time," Poppy says, clearly not serious. She leans in for a hug and whispers in Tom's ear, "I'll help you sneak away in half an hour, okay?"
    Tom's head swims with relief and he nods at her. "You look amazing, as always."
    Poppy chuckles and takes Tom's hand. "Come eat something; you won't have to talk so much then."
    It's nice to have his baby sister take care of him sometimes, too.
    *~*~*
    What're you doing for summer?
    Tom pauses before he sends the text. He's got it all planned: he's gonna ask Cin to spend the summer with him in Oregon. Mansions in California always seemed a little cliché, but he found a place tucked away in the woods, not so far from the ocean a year back that he fell in love with. Most of the work it needed had been done by the previous owner, so now it was just painting and minor repairs, which he wanted to do himself.
    Cin could paint and go for walks on the beach or in the woods or whatever else he wanted.
    It's a ridiculous fantasy, but it's a fantasy he can make happen. He's never wanted anything as stupid or indulgent before and he figures he's got every right to it, as long as Cin agrees. The text takes a second to send and then it's out there, waiting for Cin to reply.
    Working. Know any places under