Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 196085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 980(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 980(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
I’m also aware of the sudden wet mess between my legs. My pathetic bit of sexual experience has never left me panting for more. I had one date my senior year and to say it was unremarkable is being generous. For the first couple seconds Bobby Foster tried to dry hump my hip in his car after my senior prom, I simply held my breath. Then, I punched him in the stomach and that was the end of that.
That’s the extent of my worldly sexual experience, and a man like Jack looks like a pro player while I barely know the rules of the game.
I peer over my shoulder one more time as Sasha tugs me forward and my steps wobble. Her harsh grip on my upper arm yanks me into a dimly-lit corridor beyond the restrooms where I can smell the cleaning products from behind a locked door.
“Ow! Sasha, that hurts.” I jerk my arm away, rubbing the spot where her pointed, jabby fingernails dug in.
“So, tell me…”
“Tell you what? There’s nothing to tell,” I answer, trying to sound indifferent as I wonder how she noticed me talking to Jack.
A flash of annoyance darkens her face. “Tell me about that concept you were sketching out earlier for our dairy product client.”
I gape at her, trying to force my brain into gear. The world feels unsteady under my feet. I want to run my fingers through the dark hair sliding over the collar of Jack’s shirt. I want to pull his face into mine, and feel the scratch of his beard, the warmth of his tongue...
“Chastity?” Sasha’s voice cuts through the haze. “The concept?”
“The...what?” My words come out with a little whimper.
She presses her fingers with Maleficent inspired nails to her forehead on a long huff like I’m giving her a migraine. “That whole idea you came up with, with the clouds and migrating birds…explain it to me again.”
I return to earth with an anxious twist of my stomach, my real-life flooding back to me. I am once again vividly aware of the pounding music, of my skin prickling with a thousand goosebumps. I am also aware of how unsuitable I am for a man like Jack.
You’re dreaming if you think he’s had the same earth-shattering experience as you’re having. Too many fantasies, Chastity.
My heart twists as Sasha moves to my side, exposing a long mirror on the opposite wall that I hadn’t noticed until now.
Next to Sasha, I look silly. Her legs go on for miles, and she knows how to dress for them.
I wanted to wear something special tonight and what I see looking back at me is special but not in the right way. Not like the sample-size-New-York-Fashion-Week clothes most of the other women are wearing, paired with their Manolo Blahniks and Jimmy Choos.
I’m not hating for what the genetic roulette wheel bestowed upon them, I just wish I didn’t feel so bad about me when I compare myself to what feels like everyone else in Manhattan.
“Chastity. Come on.” Sasha’s losing her patience, as she does often with me. She lives life at hyper speed. “How did you tie the whole flock of birds idea with the client logo and tagline?”
In a daze, I continue staring at my reflection while I ramble on autopilot. A part of me argues that it’s unfair for me to compare myself to her. After all, comparison is the thief of joy as they say. I mean, before Sasha ventured into marketing, she modeled in Paris. I should be grateful she lets me tag along when the office group goes out after work.
Her eyes widen as I explain my idea. A smile lights her perfectly-painted red lips.
“Yes! That’s it. Amazing. Well done. It’s going to be another win for our team. You know, it’s a team effort.”
She squeezes my upper arms and makes a little kissy sound with her lips. The thinly veiled condescension is not lost on me. I may be a nineteen year old from West Virginia, but I’m not stupid.
“I’m going to shoot a quick e-mail to the boss, outlining the concept. He was just asking if we could have something together for tomorrow. Don’t want to let the team down,” she finishes on a tight smile, already tapping on her phone, then she adds, “I think it’s your turn to grab the next round. Me and the M-twins are going to go out back for a smoke so meet you back at the table.”
I should be mad at her for telling me it’s my turn to buy the next round. She knows I’m broke. Working as an intern pays…yeah, basically nothing, and if it wasn’t for the help of my father paying my rent and a small allowance for the three months I’ll be here, I’d be living in a cardboard box under the RFK bridge.