Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I put her out of her misery, crossing my free arm over my chest to rake my fingers through her hair as we lay there. “Yes. I love you. I mean – did you really think I’d ask you to move across the country with me if I didn’t?”
She avoids my gaze, the ceiling becoming real interesting all of the sudden, and shrugs her bare shoulders. “How do you know?”
“How do I know what?”
“How do you know you love me? It’s only been like… a few weeks.”
I snort. “Please. Besides the fact that you’re fucking amazing, you’re the only woman on the planet that I didn’t sleep with immediately. That’s saying something.”
“Um… and what is that saying, exactly?”
I look down at her, tilting my chin down to get a better look. “That I respect you. Better yet, that I liked you from the very beginning. You led me on a merry chase, but it was worth it.”
She smacks me in the chest. “I did not lead you on a merry chase! Well, not on purpose anyways. I simply loathed you.”
“Tomato, toe-mah-toe. You call lit loathing, I call it playing hard to get. In the end, I win.” Her elbow digs in to my ribs, and I gasp. “Hey! Watch the merchandise!”
“Who wins?”
I roll my eyes. “We win.”
Cecelia
Later that same night….
“So, next time you decide to screw in the apartment, could you at least give me a little advance warning?” Molly’s just walked in the door, and is setting her bag and keys down on the kitchen table. Hands on her hips, she turns to glare at me from my spot on the couch. “Well?”
My face turns bright red. “I am so so sorry…”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t sound sorry – it sounded like you were both being murdered. Oh Matthew, UH, UH, UH. Oh. My. Gawd.”
“But I… I thought you’d left?” Hoped she’d left is more like it.
“I did. But not before the Banging Headboard Show began. You’re lucky he didn’t bang you through the freaking wall. Gee-zuz.” She makes a loud gagging sound and walks to the fridge, opening it and peering inside. Her voice carries over the refrigerator door, and I can hear food being moved around. “As God as my witness, if I ever – ever - have to hear my own brother having loud porn sex again I will literally stab myself.”
Molly walks back into the living room, holding a Coke in one hand, and an apple in the other. “So, besides the two of you kids screwing each other’s brains out, did the two of you actually seal a deal?”
I cringe inwardly, still embarrassed and ashamed to have acted like such a dirty, filthy roommate. In all actuality, Weston has his own apartment, so I rarely have to listen to them ‘doing the deed.’ It fills me with shame to know she heard so much of my intimate night with her brother.
Molly props her Coke can on her hip, giving me the eye, and impatiently tapping her foot. “Well?”
Biting my lip and summoning up all my courage, I finally begin telling her all the details…
EPILOGUE
CECELIA
December 23rd
“This is slowly becoming my worst nightmare,” Matthew mutters under his breath as his mom bustles out of the room to fetch yet another dish from the dining room. His entire hand gropes my butt and gives it a firm squeeze. “Your ass is the only saving grace,” he jokes.
“Please, don’t be so dramatic,” I laugh, turning to fill up a water glass at the sink. “Come on, everyone is getting ready to open presents in the living room.”
“Ugh, I hate this part. It’s white elephant and it takes everyone forever. Plus, I never get anything good,” he says with a frown.
“That’s because I rule the white elephant,” Molly says entering the room with a tray. She sets it on the counter and grabs a fresh glass from the cabinet. “Besides, everything you bring is always sucky. Even for a gag gift, your gifts suck.”
“What? They do not!” Matthew shouts indignantly. “We didn’t fly all the way here from California to be harassed.”
Molly scoffs. “Please. Did you really think anyone wanted that used bike helmet you brought last year? I mean, what the hell. And the year before that, you brought a yoga mat. ”
“At least he’s sticking to a theme,” I add. They both look at me like I’m crazy. “Um, sports? Bike helmet, yoga mat…”
I don’t have the heart to mention the gift he’s brought this year: a nasty old bowling trophy he found at a resale shop, and I swear if I end up with it, I’m going to be so pissed. But hey, on the bright side: at least he picked it out on his own (which is more than I can say for most guys in my experience).