Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I shake my head. “I’m not that observant.”
“Well, I’m just glad you didn’t say anything to her. She’s the last person I want here.”
“Same,” Leila and I say in unison. The three of us laugh.
“Listen, the two of you are pretty cool. I’m glad you came. It’s a lot of old people who don’t know how to have fun. I’m working on getting the dance floor going.”
“We’ll dance,” I say. “Leila promised me.”
“I wouldn’t say I promised. I said I’d dance if you’re lucky.”
“I consider myself lucky.”
“Get a room,” Ben says. “I’ll catch you later. Eat, drink, and be merry!”
Leila and I go to the bar and order drinks. There is a buffet table with all kinds of appetizers. I’m starving, so I fill up a plate, shove all the food in my mouth, and then fill up another.
“Are you doing okay?” I ask Leila as we find a quiet area to talk.
“I’m definitely a little anxious, but this isn’t too bad.”
Ben finds us about thirty minutes later with a plate of food himself. “Hey, one other thing I wanted to mention.”
“What’s up?”
“About Candy, you should be careful with her. I’m all for teaching her a lesson on being a spoiled brat, but she is known to be vindictive. I don’t want her to end up hurting you guys in the end.”
“I’m not afraid of her.”
Ben slaps me on the shoulder. “Good to hear, man. Good luck. Guess I better go mingle again. Being the birthday boy’s brother is a lot of work.”
Just as quickly as he arrived, Ben is gone again.
Leila bites her lip. “Do you think we should be worried about Candy? Ben’s warning seemed sincere.”
“Nah, she’s harmless. She’s a brat, like he said, but she won’t be able to hurt us. Don’t worry about it.” I can tell my words only provide Leila with a little bit of solace, but I meant it. Candy doesn’t scare me.
“Come on, let’s dance?”
“Fine, I’ll dance with you this time.”
I smile at her. “Good.”
We make our way to the dance floor that Ben started up. The song is fast, and I keep my hands on Leila’s hips as we move to the pounding beat. She looks up at me with an innocent, beautiful look on her face, and I lean down to kiss her, my tongue snaking between her lips.
“Spencer!” she says, laughing as she pulls away. “We’re in public. Now they’ll all definitely know what we were up to.”
“Look around. No one is paying us any attention.” I kiss her again, and this time, Leila melts against me. The rest of the world disappears. We’re not at a party surrounded by actors and other celebrities we don’t know. It’s just the two of us. When our lips separate, we stay pressed against each other, dancing to the beat of our own song.
“Do you think we’ve been here long enough that we can just leave?” Leila asks when she looks up at me, lust in her eyes.
I grab her hand and pull her toward the door. “We definitely have.”
The only person I know here is Ben, and we don’t know each other that well, so I don’t bother saying goodbye to anyone as Leila and I make our escape.
In the car on the way back to my house, we kiss at every stoplight, and Leila’s hands wander all over my body.
“This is torture. I want to be home.”
“We’ll be there soon.”
Mercifully, we pull into my driveway a few minutes later, and Leila and I don’t waste any time getting up to my bedroom. Our clothes spill to the floor, and we flop with a heap on the bed.
Our bodies tangle together in bliss. I never want to leave. If I had it my way, Leila and I would be in my bed for the rest of our lives. When we’re finished and spent, we fall asleep curled up next to each other. I can’t think of any better way to fall asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Seven – Leila
It’s a little after seven, and the coffee shop is closed, but Nichelle said I could come by after hours to finish setting up the redesign I’ve been working on. She’s excited about the final product and is planning some special grand re-opening drinks for tomorrow morning.
Nerves settle in my stomach. She has loved all my ideas so far, but I’m always worried about showing clients the final product. I want them to be as happy with the space as I am. A few times, people have been upset and asked me to redo everything. I’m just hoping Nichelle isn’t like that. I’m obsessed with what I have planned for this space.
I check my phone, and there’s a text from the artist commune doing the tables for me. They’re going to deliver today, and they’re expecting to be here within the hour.