Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
I watch as Lee swipes right on George. Instantly, the words It’s a Match! pop up on the screen.
“Lovely.” Satisfied, he turns to wink at me. “Third George’s the charm, right?”
“Here’s hoping.”
“I shall keep you posted on our shagging progress,” Lee promises.
“Please do.”
Jack snickers from the carpet, his gaze still glued to the soccer— sorry, football match on TV.
On my other side, Jamie stretches his legs out and watches me curiously. “Right then. What about you? Have you shagged anyone here yet? Found yourself a fuckable lad at uni?”
From the corner of my eye, I notice Jack’s gaze flit from the television to the couch.
“I’m not discussing my sex life with you,” I answer primly.
“Why not?” Jamie protests. “I’ll tell you all about mine if you’d like.”
“No need. I already hear your sex life through the walls every other night.”
He beams. “Thank you for noticing.”
At that, Jack shakes with laughter. “Don’t think she meant it as a compliment, mate.”
I lock my gaze on Jack’s. “What about you?” I challenge, mostly because he didn’t come to my rescue when Jamie started grilling me. Let’s see how he likes the hot seat. “Who are we shagging these days? Because I’ve yet to hear any sexy noises coming from your room.”
And thank God for that. Otherwise, I’d probably be weeping silently in my cereal every morning.
“Jackie boy doesn’t bring birds home,” Jamie explains. “Sleepovers are a commitment.”
“And you’re anti-commitment?” I ask him.
“Commitment’s fine,” Jack answers vaguely. “I’m just not looking for a girlfriend right now.”
“But you hook up.” I don’t know why I’m pressing him. Must be the wine.
“Yes.” He sounds amused. “I hook up.”
With who? I want to demand, but that’s too nosy even for me.
“All right! Round two of tell me a secret,” Lee announces, setting his phone down and topping up his merlot. “Abigail, you’re up first.”
“You know my name’s not short for Abigail, right?”
He gasps. “Wait. It’s not?”
“Nope. Just Abbey. Named after Abbey Road.” I stick out my tongue. “There. That’s your secret.”
“That’s not a secret,” he retorts with his trademark pout. “We want something better.”
Jamie nods. “Something dirty.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Pass.”
“Something mortifying then,” Lee suggests. “Worst sexual experience.”
“That’s still a dirty one!”
Lee’s stubborn as always. As well as very, very drunk. He waves his wineglass around so jovially I worry for our carpets. “Tell me a secret, Abigail!”
Since I’m equally drunk, I end up giving Lee what he wants and revealing an embarrassing secret.
“I slept with a guy in high school who told me one of my boobs was much bigger than the other, and now it’s all I see when I look in the mirror.”
Bad move, Abbey.
Suddenly, I have three dudes squinting at my chest. Even Jack has sat up to take a good look.
“Oh my God. Stop staring!” My cheeks are flaming.
“You brought that on yourself,” Jack says.
He’s not wrong. But still.
“I’ve got a bra on anyway,” I grumble. “You can’t see the difference unless I’m topless.”
“I agree,” Jamie says gravely. “You must take your top off so we can better assess.”
I reach over to slug him in the arm. “You’re the worst.”
“Are you really insecure about it?” Lee asks in a serious voice. Not mock serious like Jamie’s was but as if he’s genuinely upset to hear I might feel self-conscious about any part of myself.
“God, yes,” I confess. “I dated someone last year, and every time we got naked, I kept stressing about what he was thinking. Like, I can’t believe I’m having sex with the weird-boob girl.”
“Trust me,” Jack says roughly, his eyes locking with mine. “That’s not what he was thinking.”
My pulse quickens, and it takes some willpower to break the eye contact.
“Jackie’s right,” Jamie assures me. “Besides, I’d bet my entire trust fund you’re being—how do I say it nicely—crazy.”
Jack snorts.
“They can’t be that disproportionate,” Jamie adds, shrugging.
“He used the words much bigger. That implies a huge proportional discrepancy.”
“Proportional discrepancy,” he mimics. “Look at you, all articulate when you’re sloshed.”
“Let me see them,” Lee orders, once again bringing the scorch of embarrassment to my face. “I’m the obvious candidate to judge the proportions, given that boobs do nothing for me. I promise I won’t objectify you.”
“Or…and hear me out…I don’t show them to anyone.”
“I’ll do it,” Jamie volunteers.
“No,” everyone says in unison.
Lee gives me a sad look. “I can’t live with myself knowing you feel ashamed of your own body. It can’t be that glaring a difference, luv.”
“It is,” I insist.
And then, because I happen to suffer from must-always-be-right disease, I reach for the hem of my shirt.
I pause, turning to glare at the other two. “Don’t you dare look or I’m smothering you both in your sleep.”
I stand up and turn my back on everyone but Lee, who also rises. Then I take my shirt off and reach behind me to undo the clasp of my bra.