Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Tommy Bahama was generally out of my price range, but the front of the store had a huge fifty-percent-off sale that caught my eye, so I wandered in. There wasn’t a kid’s section, but I was able to pick Brendan up a pair of Hawaiian-looking swim trunks in a men’s extra small that looked like it would fit. On my way to the register, I passed a rack with colorful bikinis all priced at under twenty dollars. What the hell? Remembering what Simon had said, I decided to try one on just for fun. It had been a good ten years since my stomach had seen daylight, but trying one on wouldn’t hurt.
I was amazed that it actually looked pretty good. I wasn’t eighteen years old and stick thin anymore, but Simon was right—I could totally rock this suit. My curves didn’t look half bad in a bright, floral-colored two-piece—and it coordinated with Brendan’s. If only I had the nerve to wear it out in public. As if on schedule, my phone buzzed from inside my purse. Before changing, I dug it out. Seeing Simon’s name on the screen had my heart pounding in my chest.
Simon: Get yourself a new suit while you’re out.
What? How could he have possibly known I was out buying a bathing suit?
Bridget: How the heck do you know I’m out shopping?
Simon: Brendan texted me to show me the worms he was buying and said you were out getting him swim trunks because his didn’t fit.
I hadn’t known Brendan even knew Simon’s number.
Bridget: Does he text you often?
Simon: Mostly it’s just pictures of what you guys are doing.
Wow. I had no idea.
Bridget: Well then I’m glad he’s not here right now to take a picture.
Simon: Why? What are you doing?
Bridget: I’m standing in the fitting room at Tommy Bahama. My plan was to pop into Target and pick up Brendan a suit but instead I’m in Galleria Mall trying on a bikini. My stomach is whiter than milk.
The dots started to bounce around and then stopped. Then started again.
Simon: Send me a pic.
There was no way I was sending him a picture. My selfie skills were pretty weak, and while I didn’t look horrible, it wasn’t Simon worthy. Before I could respond back, Simon texted again.
Simon: Stop thinking about it, luv. Send me a shot. I won’t let anyone else see it.
Against my better judgment, I snapped a pic in the mirror. It wasn’t half bad. Another text from Simon came in.
Simon: I know you just took one. Now stop analyzing it and send it to me.
I giggled in the dressing room. It dawned on me that it was the first time I’d laughed since I’d arrived in Florida yesterday. But I still wasn’t sending him the picture. Although…
I reached into the cup of the bikini top and lifted my boobs so that they were perked up. Then I raised the sides of the bottoms so that it gave the appearance of longer legs. Smiling, I put one hand on my hip and posed for a selfie in the mirror.
Well I’ll be. No wonder all the teens did this hand on the hip thing. I looked ten pounds lighter. And the boob fluff up I’d done made my naturally full breasts look perky as hell.
Simon texted again.
Simon: How about if I send you a selfie first? Will that help?
I chewed my fingernail.
Bridget: Maybe…
Less than a minute later, my phone pinged indicating a photo had arrived. Of course, he’d done it. I started to crack up when I opened the picture. Simon was at work, but must’ve stepped into the supply closet. He was wearing blue scrubs and had a big goofy smile on his face.
Bridget: Ummm. Cute. But if you expect a bikini shot, you’re going to have to put up more skin than that, Hogue.
Again, a minute later, my phone pinged. Simon was still standing in the supply closet but was lifting his shirt so that I could see his abs and had let his scrubs fall to his knees. His tight boxers showcased his thick thighs and the V north of the good stuff. I also knew firsthand that the big bulge he was sporting was not the result of a good camera angle or any fluffing.
I stood in the dressing room for a few minutes and debated sending him my selfie in return. Eventually, my phone pinged again.
Simon: You owe me BIG now.
Bridget: Why?
Simon: Nurse Hamilton walked in on me. Apparently, I hadn’t locked the door like I thought I did. I think she thought I was masturbating.
I covered my mouth laughing. Nurse Hamilton was probably close to seventy. She was also extremely proper. I supposed I couldn’t hold out on him after that. Calling up the picture I’d taken on my phone…I let my finger hover over the button for a good three minutes. Then I held my breath and pressed send.