Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 104766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Literally what I’ve always wanted.
“Should I call you babe, too?” I tease in all seriousness, letting my eyes adjust to the dark.
Tess is quiet, and for a moment, I wonder if I’m still dreaming or if she’s actually awake.
“Tess? I was kiddin.”
“Oh. Were you?”
No.
“I mean, I was kiddin only if you don’t want me to call you babe,” I try again, not making much sense. But it’s late, and we’re both half asleep—at least I was. Don’t know about her or if she’s been lying here listening to me breathe the entire time.
I passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow.
“So you’re kiddin’, but you’re not kiddin’.”
Her voice has an edge to it that has me seeking her face out in the dark. It’s late so I don’t want to turn the lights on.
“Is…something wrong?”
I know she’s been acting weird, but so far, she hasn’t admitted it. I don’t want to push and push and push, but she’s leaving soon, and we don’t have a ton of time. I don’t want that time wasted or spent arguing, or filled with tension.
She moves on the bed, rolling to her back. Not away from me but not closer to me, either.
“Remember the other night when we were at dinner?”
Dinner—not “when we were on our date.”
“Yes.” Of course I do. I thought we had a good time.
“When that fan was getting his autograph and telling you about his son, you introduced me as your childhood friend.”
I blink.
Blink again, trying to think back to that conversation. “I did?”
Had I?
Is that a bad thing? I’m scared to ask out loud.
“I felt insulted.”
Insulted. “Why?”
She moves, rolling toward me this time, propping herself on her elbow as if she can actually see me and wants to talk face-to-face despite it being pitch black in his room.
“Because. I thought I was more to you than that.”
“You are.”
Those two words don’t feel like enough, and her silence proves it, but for some reason, my brain isn’t coming up with anything more sufficient to say.
Fuck, fuck, FUCK.
Think, think, THINK.
“That’s not at all how I meant it.” I reach for her, feeling around for her hand. “That’s not how I meant it at all.”
Same words, rephrased.
“You’re not just a childhood friend.”
Her laughter is quiet. “I didn’t think we were friends at all when we were kids, if I’m being honest.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. I was your friend by proxy, but we weren’t friends. When did we ever spend a single second together, alone, up until the past few months?”
“Never.”
“When did we hang out laughin’ and havin’ fun in a group when we were younger?”
“Uh. Never.”
She hmphs.
“Okay, point taken.” I’m still not sure if it’s safe to make a joke, not that I’m like ha-ha funny. Not like my brothers. They’re hilarious, and I’m…
The quiet one.
“Tess, do you actually feel like I don’t care about you?”
She scoffs. “Of course I think you care about me. You’re a nice guy. You care about everyone.”
I pause. “Are you…rollin’ your eyes?”
I catch her snickering. “How can you tell?”
“I can hear it.”
This time, she laughs. “Yes, I was rollin’ my eyes.”
“Is it a bad thing that I’m a nice guy?” Does she not realize how bad it sucks sometimes being the quiet, kind brother? The one people overlook because he’s not the loud one? The attention whore? The famous one?
His mom’s favorite, but only because he texts her out of guilt the most often?
The brother who catches shit because they consider him a kiss-ass?
The one who lost his virginity last because he was always too scared to make a move and didn’t have any game?
I’m that guy.
And being the nice one has gotten old.
“Of course it’s not a bad thing. Why would you think that?”
For all the reasons I just listed off in my head and didn’t say out loud.
“Why would I think that?” I tuck a hand beneath my chin and consider her question. “Actually, never mind. Let’s get back to the actual subject.”
“Which is?”
“Why it bothered you that I introduced you as a childhood friend.”
“Because...I don’t feel like I’m just your friend.”
“Obviously, we’re not just friends.” Let’s see, how do I put this? “The truth is, the words flew out of my mouth before I could think about ’em. I wasn’t exactly gonna start callin’ you my girlfriend for the first time in front of some stranger, and I didn’t need Mark takin’ our picture and sellin’ it to the tabloids the way Grady did, based on the way I introduced you.”
Fucking Grady Donahue still hasn’t contacted me to apologize, that prick.
Have I mentioned that?
’Cause I’m getting pissed about it.
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” she allows.
“We haven’t had a talk about where our heads are at. Don’t people do that? Have a talk?”
“You mean about the status of our relationship? Yeah, I think some people do. Some don’t.” She yawns.