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. I like Holden Ames.
The realization has my heart beating faster, panic suddenly and inexplicably blooming in my chest.
“So, it’s just sex?” Shayne asks, oblivious to my impending internal meltdown.
“Just sex,” I confirm, my tone resolute. “Temporary sex.”
She stops short on the sidewalk, giving me a weird look.
“What?”
“It’s okay to like someone, you know. Or want someone. It doesn’t make you weak or embarrassing. It makes you human.”
“I know,” I say lightly, but it doesn’t sound convincing even to my own ears.
“And so we’re clear, casual hookups are cool, too, if that’s your choice. I know you’re allergic to talking about your feelings, so that’s all I’m going to say on the subject.”
I press my lips together, suppressing a smile. “Okay.” I knock my shoulder into hers. “Thanks, weirdo.”
But the truth is, having feelings for Holden doesn’t feel okay at all.
Holden
“Good evening, gentlemen. How may I assist you?” The woman at the front desk is all teeth, her ruby lips stretched into a permanent smile as she greets us.
“We’re here to see our father,” I say.
“Of course. Is he a guest at our hotel or a resident?”
“Resident.”
“Unit number?”
I look over to Thayer who shrugs. “Fuck if I know. I’ve never been here before.”
That makes two of us. “Not sure,” I tell her.
Her smile slips a little, either pitying us or finding us suspicious, I’m not sure. I’d guess most people probably know exactly where their parents live. “What’s his name?”
“August Ames.”
Recognition flashes in her wide eyes. At least I know we’re in the right place. “May I please see some identification?”
I reach for my pocket for my wallet, but Thayer beats me to it, slapping his driver’s license onto the marble counter. She verifies that we are who we say we are before sliding it back to him. “I can’t let you up there without his permission, but I can call him if you’d like?”
“Please do,” Thayer says, losing his patience. Not at the lady who’s doing her job, but at the situation at hand. You’d think we’d be on some type of approved visitors list. This lady didn’t even seem to know we existed.
She types something into her computer and then dials his unit number before holding the phone up to her ear. I can hear it ringing from the other side of the desk. And ringing. And ringing. Just when I’m sure he isn’t going to answer, I hear his muffled voice come through the speaker.
“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Ames, but your sons are here to see you?” She sounds unsure, as if she isn’t convinced that we are who we say we are. “Do I have permission to go ahead and send them up?”
There’s a beat of silence before he responds, but his voice is too muffled to make out what he says.
“Great, I’ll send them on their way. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” She hangs up the phone, her smile back in place. “The residential elevators are just over to the right of the lobby.” She hands us a plastic key card with a gold logo on the front. “This will give you access to the elevator. Take that all the way up to the top floor, and he’s in unit 5802.”
I take the key card, thanking her, and we’re on our way. We head straight for the elevators, not bothering to look around the place that my dad calls his second home. Once the elevator door glides open, we step inside. I lean back, bracing my hands against the rectangular handrail, the cool, hard metal edges biting into my palms as Thayer hits the floor number.
“What’s your plan?” I ask. Thayer stayed on my couch last night so we could leave first thing in the morning, and I lay in bed, awake all night. All I wanted was to go across the hall and climb into Valen’s bed, but I didn’t want to risk getting caught. Personally, I don’t give a fuck who knows about our…situation. But she does. By the time I finally started to doze off, Thayer was knocking on my door, telling me it was time to leave. I managed to sleep for a while in the car, but that means we didn’t get to talk strategy.
“Get answers,” is all he says, making me laugh at the irony.
“This coming from you? The one who always gives me shit for being impulsive and reckless?”
“Hardly the same thing,” he deadpans.
The elevator dings, reaching the top sooner than I thought possible. We step out into the hall, the thick, plush carpet absorbing our heavy footsteps.
“Right here,” I say, pointing to the door plate listed as number 5802. My dad takes his sweet ass time coming to the door, and when he finally answers, he doesn’t look particularly happy to see us.
“Boys,” he greets us, swinging the door open wide. He looks slightly sweaty, and his belt is undone, like he got dressed in a rush. “What’d you do this time?”