Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Vann? Ooh, better be careful with that one.” Adrian lets out a laugh. “The guy is like a snake charmer.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Snake charmer?”
“I know he and Toby haven’t been here all that long, but the love of my life admitted to once having a thing for Vann. I almost lost my man to Vann’s tortured artist charm. Thankfully, I’m slightly more charming.”
I frown. “Hmm.”
He notices. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m mostly kidding.”
“‘Mostly kidding’ …?”
“Yeah, he won’t take Sean away from you. Why would you even think that? He’s got Toby. I just meant … well, you know how those artist types are. Full of dark passion, inspiring each other, baring their souls …” He looks at me. “Am I making this better or worse?”
I don’t answer, keeping my hardened eyes on the road.
“Oh, and he doesn’t have a car.” Adrian leans into my ear. “Vann rides a—”
Just then, the roar of a motorcycle cracks through the air like a monster, shaking me fully awake. Up the road comes a motorcycle, which swiftly hops onto the dirt with a growl, then stops some distance from us. Vann, noticing me, nods my way and gives a short wave.
That’s when I notice his passenger is clinging to him from behind—my Sean.
My grip on the little white box tightens.
Sean hops off the bike, pulls off his helmet, and hands it back to Vann. “Thanks so much. I’ll see you tomorrow!” To that, Vann nods, gives me another wave, then lets his engine rip as he soars away, disappearing around the corner.
Sean, all smiles and looking like he’s walking on air, comes up to me. “Hey there, Coop! Adrian,” he says with a nod, noticing him.
Adrian snorts. “Can that bike be any louder?”
“You think that’s loud? Should’ve heard him burning rubber down the causeway. I could barely feel my face.” Sean’s eyes drop to the box in my hand. “What’s that?”
“Dessert,” I answer.
“Oh.” He puts a hand to his mouth, then winces. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time. I … I forgot we had plans.”
“They weren’t official.” I put on a smile. “It’s alright.”
“No, no, it isn’t.”
“I said it’s alright. I was caught up at the bar, anyway.”
“Really? You sure?”
That was a lie. I could’ve left hours ago. “Yep. No big deal.” I give Adrian a pat on the back. “Thanks for the nice treat, my friend. I guess we’ll be off.”
Adrian, who is apparently still wondering whether or not his whole rant about Vann’s irresistible dark charm just destroyed my self-confidence, gives an absent nod. “Sure. I am happy to, uh, help out.”
I’m sure you are, Adrian.
Sean and I don’t make it back home. Sitting in my car in the back parking lot of the bar, we pop open the box and dig right in with a pair of wrapped plastic forks I had in my glove box. I don’t think this is the elegant way the chefs at Thalassa intended their delicacy to be enjoyed, but neither I nor Sean care. Every bite is just as sweet.
It’s triple chocolate melting fudge cake, by the way.
“Fuck me,” groans Sean for the sixth or seventh time.
I smile back at him, chewing. “I know, right?”
“I mean, just, like … fuck me, this is good.”
We’re both holding the box over my center console as we trade bites. “You know, if you’re gonna go all pro with your newfound modeling career …”
“Nah, it’s just a thing for now.”
“… and taking on these amazing late-night—”
“Wait.” Sean eyes me. “Are you about to bodyshame me out of eating this dessert?”
“What? No, not at all. Eat your heart out.”
“Because I know I gotta keep in shape,” he goes on. “It doesn’t mean I can’t indulge now and then. I’m not gonna be a runway model or something. I don’t have the height.”
People have been talking to him at the school. I hear their words coming out of his mouth, giving him ideas and nixing others. “That wasn’t where I was going.”
“So what is it?” asks Sean.
I nod at the glove box. “There was more than just these forks in there.”
He frowns, his chewing stopped. He stabs his fork into the cake and goes for the glove box again. That’s when he sees the thin present, wrapped in shiny blue paper with a ribbon. “It isn’t my birthday,” he says, mouth full.
“Don’t need an occasion to wrap a gift for you.”
He swallows his bite. “Can I open it?”
“Of course.”
He tears off the wrapping paper and ribbon with such speed and urgency, I lift my eyebrows in surprise. When the paper falls off, his eyes go big.
“You got me a phone?” He looks at me, shocked. “You got me a—a—This is expensive, Coop.”
“Don’t worry about it. Like I was trying to explain, if you’re planning to go all pro with your modeling gigs, you will need a way to gather your contacts that doesn’t involve all this word-of-mouth through Toby or Vann. I want you to be able to take even more charge of your life.”