Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 23745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Get it together, Luna. Seriously.
I can’t go downstairs, but I also can’t stay up here for too long, or they’re going to think something is wrong and start asking questions when I finally join them. And it’s not like I can just come out with it and explain to them the issue either.
Goddamn you, Blake. Goddamn you.
I take a deep breath and smile at my reflection before turning around and heading downstairs. This is going to be crazy, but maybe I can distract myself with bacon, eggs, and toast and whatever nonsense small-talk my mom and Carson will undoubtedly be blathering on and on about.
Everyone is seated when I arrive in the dining room. Blake doesn’t even look up when I enter, which at first kind of offends me, but then I realize that he’s probably just putting on an act so as to not arouse suspicion.
“There she is,” my mom says as she pours her orange juice. “How’d you sleep, honey?”
“Was the couch all right?” Carson asks. “Comfortable enough for you?”
“It was–”
“I’m sure it was fine,” Blake interrupts, his mouth full of bacon. “This isn’t the Four Seasons.”
Carson tosses his son a scolding glance. “And you’re not Bill Burr either, so let’s try to keep the jokes to a minimum.”
Blake shrugs and switches over to his pancake. I start to fill up my plate but notice that just as our parents look away, he tosses me the slightest hint of a glance with a charming little smile attached.
The look goes straight to my heart, and it’s all I can do to not smile right back at him.
“These eggs are really good,” I say to Carson, and I really do mean it. “I like the spring onions you put in them.”
“Thank you.” He smiles. He turns to Susan. “You’ve got a very polite daughter. She’s not snobby and entitled at all like you were saying earlier.”
My jaw drops, and I gasp, glaring directly at my mom, who of course frowns and shakes her head back at Carson. “That’s not what I said,” she replies, then turns to me. “He’s joking, sweetie. He just likes to tease me.”
So that’s where Blake gets it from.
Carson chuckles and looks over at me. “She’s right, I’m just messing with her. Don’t be offended.”
Everyone at the table chuckles, which allows me to slowly smile and nod. “Okay,” I reply.
“By the way,” Carson says, “I’ve got a house showing later on today. Blake, would you be able to help your new sis move her things into her room?”
Again, Blake glances up from his meal, looking even more annoyed this time. He’s really doing a great job pretending to be annoyed by simply my presence in the house.
“I painted her room and now I have to move her shit in too?”
“Blake!” Carson snaps in that tone that a father never loses. “That’ll be enough of that.”
Blake purses his lips, takes a deep breath, and exhales. He glances over at me, and even though everyone else in the room might read his expression as angry and irritated, I can see something behind all that, something just for me that says I can’t wait.
“Yeah, fine.” He shrugs. “Whatever.”
Again, I have to hide my smile. Blake and I are already hiding a major secret, and this little performance of ours right now is like icing on the cake between us. In fact, it’s kind of turning me on, having to pretend for the rest of brunch that I’m slightly annoyed by the fact that Blake seems slightly annoyed at having to help me move in.
The whole meal feels like the crescendo of a performance – the build-up to something bigger that will be happening later, and it’s so exhilarating, that by the time we’re doing the dishes and Carson is stepping out the door to go do his house showing, I feel ready to take Blake into any dark corner of the house and jump on him.
But that can’t happen. There’s still the problem of my mother sitting annoyingly in the living room reading one of her spy thrillers. So instead, I just go ahead and help Blake with moving my things and put on a show for her like he and I are doing our best to try and get along.
“Can I give you a hand with that?” I ask him as he lifts one of my side dressers out of the truck. I’m actually blown away that he can carry it on his own.
“Oh, now you ask?” His tone is snarky, but he’s grinning at me, as we’re out of view of my mom. “Yes, you can give me a hand, Luna. Thank you.”
I smirk back at him and go over and grab two legs and start into the house. “It’s really nice of you to do this, Blake.”