Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Maybe we need a romantic comedy for the next book club, and we can debate levels of cinnamon roll heroes,” Prana suggests, with a kick of her red flat.
“Only if the book is five chili peppers hot,” Kimora insists.
I give Kimora a c’mon look. “You know me. I know you know me. You know I’d never give you anything less than the full spicy treatment in a Page Turners pick.”
Kimora sighs happily. “All I need is some spice and for the world to leave me alone.”
“Amen,” Aubrey seconds.
We spend the last few minutes of book club choosing our book for next time, finally settling on Only One Bang In The Room from Kennedy Carlisle. Bonus points? The super adorable pink cover with the cartoon couple on opposite sides of the bed.
“Bets on how long the hero and heroine hold out?” I ask.
Aubrey raises a hand. “Ohh! One night.”
Kimora flicks her braids off her shoulder. “Two. My money’s on two.”
Prana weighs in. “Good things come in threes.”
Well, yeah.
“May the best woman win a Fresh Out of Fucks mug,” I say, then hand Kimora the mug prize from tonight. I picked it up at Effing Stuff down the street as a prize for the reader who accurately predicted the chapter for the first bang. Even though my friend didn’t like the book, she still deserves the mug.
We all say goodbye, and Aubrey sticks around to help me straighten up. “So, how’s life in The Pound Palace?” she asks in a low voice as I crush the cracker boxes so I can recycle them.
A shiver runs down my spine as I think about all the things we’ve done this week. I check the Edvard Munch-style clock on the wall above the horror section. I’ll be meeting the guys at the coffee shop around the corner in ten minutes. Just enough time to share with my bestie.
“It’s wild,” I whisper, then I tell her a little bit about when they tied me up the other morning. “I swear, I had no idea sex like this was possible.”
She fans her face. “I knew it. I knew those dirty books weren’t a lie. But rather, a secret roadmap to the promised land. And as God is my witness, someday I will find my way there.” She smiles. “Tell me more.”
But I don’t tell her more about the nookie. Instead, I tell her about the way I felt all soft and squishy from our new pact. My stomach dips, like a roller-coaster car. “And I don’t know what to do about it. I mean, this thing is ending, and I’m fresh off a bad breakup. These burgeoning feelings are just…” I wave a hand searching for the words. “Heightened emotions.”
Aubrey’s uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. “You really like them.”
I wince. “Yes.”
She brings me in for a hug. “Just have fun. And know that I love you,” she says.
That’s girlfriend code for I’ll be here for you when your heart gets broken, or even just bent.
I let go and say goodbye to her, trying to brush aside my feelings.
Best to focus on the way I feel in bed, not out of bed.
A little later, I’m all done, so I say goodbye to Pedro, who’s closing up tonight, then head outside, but once I push open the door, it’s not my two temporary roomies surprising me.
It’s my ex.
30
FIVE CHILI PEPPERS
Trina
Lift my chin. Look him in the eye. Then walk on by.
That’s my plan at least, but the second I head down Fillmore Street, Jasper’s by my side, keeping pace, his dumb man bun bouncing stupidly. “Monopoly money? Really? I thought you were more mature than that.”
I fume, jerking my gaze at him. “Who the hell are you to lecture me on maturity?”
“Who the hell are you to say it was wrong of me to make one mistake, then just go and take something that belonged to me? Two wrongs don’t make a right.”
Red plumes of anger billow through me. “Did you just equate cheating on me to taking your hockey tickets?”
“I did. You knew how much I wanted those tickets, and you just stole them. They’re worth a lot of money.”
The gall of him. “Did you need the money for rent, Jaspie?” I ask as we pass Effing Stuff, the mug shop. I’m fresh out of fucks to give, but I’d sure like to throw that mug at his stupid face. “Because that’s all you care about.”
“No, I care about meeting Weston and Samuels,” he says, and I want to shove a bar of soap in his mouth for having the nerve to breathe their names. He’s a little man brat, and they’re real men. “That was all I wanted. But the way I see it is we could be even, and I could just forget about it if you give the tickets back to me and I’ll go to the calendar kickoff,” he says, plastering on a nice voice.