Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
When they break, they each go their separate ways, but Carter comes right to me. “I’m off for about three hours. Do you want to get something to eat?” His voice is off and weird, and I just look at him.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I say, grabbing my bag and walking with him outside where he just gets into a random golf cart. The sun shines bright in the sky. “Is this anyone’s?” I ask him, looking around to see if anyone is running after us as he leaves.
“No. It’s for anyone’s use. I park it with the others, and then someone else can take it,” he tells me, pulling up to stage one. We walk in and go to the craft service room and see that the food has been changed. This time, hot plates filled with eggs, potatoes, sausage, bacon, waffles, and pancakes are on the table. You name it, it’s there. He loads his plate, and I follow him, filling my plate. We walk out to his trailer, and I watch him go straight to the table. I put my plate in front of him and then shrug off my jacket.
“I need the address of the house.” I walk to his little fridge, hoping that it is stocked, and I’m happy it is. I grab a water bottle for myself and one for him also, but I put it in front of my plate.
“Why?” he asks between bites.
“So if I want to go back to the house, I have it,” I tell him, grabbing the plastic fork and digging into the scrambled eggs.
“You were going to leave me here and go back to the house?” he asks, grabbing a water bottle and opening it.
“You mean after you were an asshole earlier? Yes, I was going back to the house.”
“I’m sorry.” The two words I don’t think he’s ever said he just uttered to me.
“Really?” I answer, surprised. “What exactly are you sorry for?”
He looks at me. “I’m sorry for calling you a prude.”
“That wasn’t even the point,” I tell him, pointing at him with my fork. “The point was to respect my wishes and not undress in front of me. You might be okay with having your shlong all over the place, but not everyone wants to see it.”
“Shlong?” He laughs. “You know that means I have a huge dick, right?”
I groan. “What the hell are you talking about?” I scoop up a forkful of eggs and eat.
“It’s in the urban dictionary. It means not for regular size dicks but for dicks with substantial length and girth.” He winks at me. “You are not wrong in either case.”
“You have to be the most infuriating person I have ever met,” I tell him, shaking my head.
“I needed this,” he says softly, and I look up. “After that scene in there, I needed this to take my mind off it.”
“You can’t do that,” I tell him, dropping my fork. “You can’t be an asshole one second and then be soft and gentle the next.”
“I didn’t mean to be an asshole. I guess I inherited that from my parents.” He shrugs his shoulders. “And if it’s worth anything”—he leans in—“I will be more than happy to see you naked.” I shake my head, trying to hide my laughter. “Too much?”
“Too much.” I agree with him. “You know, I don’t know the story of your parents and what’s become of them since, but I do know that at one point you need to stop blaming them and start making yourself unlike them.”
He laughs. “You sound like my shrink.”
“Not even trying to be. My parents, thank God, are great,” I tell him. “They were never together. I mean, they dated but were not exclusive. My father could have said sorry, I’m out, but he didn’t. He took it and ran with it. They co-parented me, and I never felt that I was missing anything.”
“My parents spent every single last cent I ever made by the time I turned eighteen,” he says, leaning back. “Everything. I had nothing to show for all my hard work.” I try not to open my mouth in shock. “They were off living the lavish life, and they stuck me in a one-bedroom condo from when I was fourteen and then stuck me in my fake school house. They would show up when they knew people were asking questions.” Oh my God. “They would swoop in and pretend they were the best parents in the world.” He laughs bitterly. “There is this one picture of us on the red carpet. I was in a mini tux, and my mother actually showed up wearing a mink fur wrap. It was July in Hollywood.” He rubs his face with his hands. “I need a nap.” He gets up and walks to the bedroom. “There is only one bed, but if you want to nap, I can sleep out on the bench.”