Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
He leans his forehead against mine, and we both take a moment to catch our breath. As first kisses go, it was stellar. My empty stomach, however, shows no cool and rumbles loudly. Talk about keeping it real.
He smiles and kisses my nose, checking out my selection of snacks on the kitchen counter. “Mind if I join you for some middle of the night pickle, turkey, and cheese?”
“Not at all. There will even be Oreos for dessert.” I lick my lips and taste him. Nirvana. “You know, you don’t have to sleep on the couch. It can’t be that comfortable. I don’t mind sharing my bed with you if you want.”
For a long moment, he just looks at me, his fingers flexing on my hips. Like he’s waging some sort of internal war with himself or something. The heat in his gaze lets me know he definitely wants, but he’s holding himself back. Which is smart. This thing between us is moving fast. Or at least my hopes and dreams are.
“I didn’t necessarily mean it like…you know.”
“There’s nothing I’d like better than being in your bed. But as you said, we haven’t even known each other a day. How about I stay on the couch for now?”
“Okay,” I say. “That sounds very wise.”
He presses another swift kiss to my lips. “But thank you for offering, Jude. Now let’s get you fed.”
* * * *
Frankie is sitting on the sofa the next morning busy with her cell. Her hair is in a perfect chignon, and she’s wearing cowboy boots, jeans, and a cream sweater. I don’t even own any nice clothing in light colors. It stains too easily. As my misadventure with Anne’s silk shirt last night amply displayed. But the woman looks amazing despite it being early. Her makeup is sublime. I am beyond curious as to why Dean doesn’t want to date her. Though I acknowledge it’s none of my business. Mostly.
Also of note is how Frankie’s bags are sitting by the door.
“Hey, Jude,” she sing-songs. The woman is obviously a fan of The Beatles. “Dean was telling me I owe you an apology for last night. For not only gate crashing but actually stealing your food. I was starving, sorry. Didn’t even think twice.”
“It’s fine.” I fill a mug with coffee. “Are you heading out?”
She makes a comic sad face. “I might as well since Dean doesn’t want to get back together again. I knew I should have taken him at his word when he called it off last time. He was using his serious face and somber voice and everything. But I had something else on my mind and I thought he’d get over it and here we are. One day I’ll learn. We’ve been on and off for a while. At the end of the day, however, our lifestyles don’t really mesh.”
I sip my coffee and stay silent.
“I’m like, let’s go! My friends are sailing around the Mediterranean then partying in Ibiza before going shopping in Paris and hitting a movie premiere in London,” she says. “As my mom said, I am a force of nature. Not everyone can keep up with me. Nor do they always want to.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
She gives me a wink. “No, you’re not. And that’s okay. We’re all adults here. I wish you and him all the best.”
“Thanks,” I say. Honestly, I’m a little surprised by her non-bitchy attitude. I don’t think I could be as cool after losing someone like Dean. I’m not sure whether to be impressed or sad for her.
“Time for me to go.” She rises and heads for her luggage. “When he gets out of the shower, tell him I said goodbye.”
“You don’t want to tell him yourself?”
Frankie shakes her head. “I hate this part. You do it for me.”
“Okay.”
“Your bangs are so cute. Not everyone can pull off that look.”
I lift a hand in farewell. “Thank you, Frankie. Bye.”
And the supermodel exits the building. Huh. This week is really not turning out anything like I thought it would. From the outset, it seemed quite boring and normal. But here we are. I put some Pop-Tarts in the toaster and take a breath.
Those kisses with Dean last night were lovely. And his offer to take me to see a band tonight was even lovelier. We spent an hour eating random foods from the fridge and pantry while talking about anything and everything. One of the finest hours I have spent with someone in recent memory.
“Is she gone?” asks the man in question, peeking around the door to the second bedroom.
“Yeah. She just left. She told me to tell you goodbye.”
He nods and steps into the living space.
“Any particular reason you were hiding around the corner?”
“I was just testing the waters. She hates goodbyes. They make her cry, and then her eye makeup gets messed up, and she hates that. But sometimes she changes her mind.”