Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
“Fuck if I know.” He shrugs.
I hesitate.
“Problem?” Holden asks when he notices that I’m still standing in the same place.
“I can’t be seen coming home with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re not even friends. And I have a boyfriend. And it’s definitely late enough to qualify for booty call hours.” I tick each reason off. There are a million reasons I shouldn’t be here right now, but for some reason, here I am. “And because you’re…you.”
“Had.”
“What?”
“Had a boyfriend. I mean, unless you’re planning on staying with him.”
I fold my arms over my chest, feeling defensive. “And that’s your business, how?”
Of course, I’m breaking up with Liam. As far as I’m concerned, it goes without saying. It’s already done. But no one else knows that yet. I’m also not going to take judgment or relationship advice from Holden, of all people. He’s easily the biggest player I’ve ever known.
He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he pivots and starts walking in the other direction. I hang back, watching, waiting for him to say or do something. His dark form blends into the shadows as he gets farther and farther away, and I roll my eyes, contemplating leaving. Shayne lives on the other side of these woods. I could call her. But that would lead to a whole lot of questions I don’t want to answer. Not tonight, anyway.
The steady sound of leaves crunching beneath his feet is suddenly gone, and I realize he’s stopped, looking at me over his shoulder. “Coming?”
I let out a heavy sigh, arms dropping to my sides. “Why not,” I deadpan. Keep the bad decisions rolling.
“You’re the one who asked to come over,” he reminds me.
I don’t have a response for that. He’s right, obviously.
I follow Holden, passing another structure next to the main house—a detached garage or a guest house, maybe? I don’t know where he’s taking me, but I’m too stubborn to ask, so I stay quiet. Finally, we come to another structure. Holden approaches the door before pushing it open. He doesn’t wait for any sort of reaction. He heads straight inside, leaving me at the threshold. I peer inside, feeling the warmth all the way from here, and see that it’s an indoor pool. Tall, vaulted ceiling, brick walls, and little sconces perched between each window casting a warm, orange glow against the dark water. The only windows are up high near the ceilings, giving it a private feel. I step inside, the humidity a welcomed sensation after being out in the cold.
“Shayne didn’t tell me you guys had a pool.”
“She didn’t use it often. Drink?” he asks, making his way toward a wine fridge that’s built into a counter. He bends over, opens the door, then pulls out two dark brown bottles, holding them up in offering.
Shutting the door behind me, I walk over to where Holden stands, coming to a stop in front of him. Instead of taking the proffered beer, I reach around his body for the tray of liquor that sits on the countertop. After a quick glance at my options, I decide on an expensive-looking white bottle with an intricate blue design. Plucking it from the tray, I hold it up, giving it a little shake in question.
“So it’s that kind of night, huh?” He sets the bottles of beer down on the counter with a clang, and I take a step back, putting some space between us. “Even better.”
Being alone with Holden isn’t a good idea. Being alone with Holden and getting drunk off tequila is an even worse one. But tonight, I’m giving myself permission to make shitty choices.
He puts the bottle to his lips and tilts his head back, taking the first swig without preamble. When he’s done, he pulls up the bottom of his shirt and swipes it across his mouth. Why was that so attractive?
When it’s my turn, I’m not quite as skilled. The liquid burns my throat, warming my insides almost instantly. I make a sour face, wishing I had something to chase it with. Holden chuckles at my bitter expression and takes the bottle from me before setting it back down on the bar. He reaches over to a little basket with limes and sets it on the countertop before pulling a knife out of a wooden block.
That would’ve been helpful five seconds ago.
After he fills two shot glasses and cuts the lime, he holds one of the wedges in his hand. I pull back when he reaches his hand out for me. “Let me,” he says. I relent, curious to see what he’s going to do next. His fingertips graze my neck as he moves my ponytail off my shoulder, causing me to shiver at his touch. “Tilt your head.”
I do as he says, exposing my neck to him. Holden brings the lime to my neck and squeezes, the juices running down to my collarbone. He rubs the lime against my flesh, then brings it to my lips. “Open.”