Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
My stomach flipped. “And what happens when it doesn’t work out?”
“Then at least he’s a good kisser?” She shrugged. “I’m not saying marry the guy. I’m saying there’s no shame in a little after-hours activities. You’re both grown adults and obviously attracted to each other.”
Attracted to each other was an understatement. We were compatible on every physical level. I knew that without even getting our clothes off. My body turned on the second I heard his voice, and just the memory of his mouth raised my temperature.
“You’re all flushed,” Halley teased, bumping against my shoulder as I reached for the next balloon.
I felt all flushed, and my stomach wouldn’t settle. “Subject change. Tell me about the guys you’ve been seeing. Let me live vicariously for a minute.”
Her eyes brightened. “Okay, well, there’s this guy I’ve been seeing for a few weeks. Nothing serious, but the thing he does with his tongue? It’s to die for.”
I laughed and shoved the nausea aside as we finished decorating for Sutton’s party.
Four hours later, I knew it wasn’t the thought of Weston that had me queasy as I leaned over the toilet, puking up everything I’d had for breakfast. It was the second time in thirty minutes. My skin was clammy, and the world spun as I held on to the porcelain bowl.
“No, no, no,” I muttered to myself. “Not today. I refuse to be sick today.”
My cell phone rang, and I swatted at the floor in the direction of the noise until I found it, swiping to answer as Halley’s name flashed on the screen.
“Oh my God,” she said slowly. “Do you feel as horrible as I do?”
“Worse,” I promised. “I’ve thrown up twice.”
“Only once here,” she replied. “It has to be something we ate this morning. The sausage?”
Just the thought of it had my stomach pitching, trying to hurl itself out of my body. “That has to be it.”
“Callie?” Weston’s voice carried up the stairs and into my bathroom.
“Up here! Weston’s here,” I said into the phone. “Kill me now. No one should see the guy they’re crushing on while their head is in the toilet.”
“Tell that to every college freshman you know,” she managed to croak out. “Good luck over there.”
“Do you need anything?” I laid my cheek against the seat and begged my body to cooperate.
“Like you’re in a position to help,” she teased. “I’m okay. Just take care of yourself.”
We hung up, the phone sliding from my hand and crashing to the floor as Weston appeared in the doorway.
His eyes flew wide. “Holy shit. Callie.”
Of course he looked freaking perfect. His jeans were perfect. His Henley? Perfect. The way his baseball cap was turned around backward? Perfect.
“I’m fine,” I assured him, even as my stomach heaved and my mouth watered. “Oh no,” I groaned, forcing myself to my knees as I retched up whatever was left in my stomach.
“Shit,” Weston muttered. Then he was at my side, gathering my hair back at the base of my neck. “It’s okay.” He rubbed my back as my body tried to force up contents that weren’t there, my stomach cramping so hard that sweat broke out all over my body. His hand left my back, and I heard him rustling for something on the counter.
“You shouldn’t see this,” I managed to say between spasms.
“You’re sick, Callie. Not committing a murder.” He tied my hair back. “I’ve seen way worse, trust me.”
“There is no worse,” I mumbled, sagging against the toilet and flushing.
“I’ve been to war with a helicopter that has guns on it. Trust me, there’s worse,” he said quietly as he stood.
Good, he should go. This was the kind of stuff husbands and parents signed up for, not roommates who occasionally kissed.
He grabbed a clean washcloth from under the counter, then ran the water in the sink, soaking the cloth. “Here we go.” His voice was way too soothing as he stroked the cloth over my forehead and cheek.
It felt so good that I whimpered. “I think it’s something I ate.”
“Selfishly glad it’s not contagious,” he replied. “But I’d be here anyway. What time is Sutton coming home?”
“The party!” I jolted upright and the world tilted.
“Whoa.” He caught my shoulders and steadied me as he crouched down next to me in the tiny space. “Let’s think about that in a second. Do you think you’re done throwing up?”
I assessed the state of my body. “If I say I don’t know, will you think less of me?”
“Impossible,” he replied with a soft smile. “Just stay here, okay? Don’t move.”
“I’m not sure I could if I wanted to.”
He stroked my forehead and disappeared through the door. I concentrated on breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. I had to be done puking, right? There was nothing left in there to heave up…and Weston had seen me hurling. Man, I was a catch.