Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
I command Alexa to play my favorite’s list, feeling inspired by the Arctic Monkeys. After I crack open six eggs, I scramble them with a fork and add salt and pepper while my skillet heats up. I spray the pan with olive oil before tossing the English muffins into my toaster to crisp, then set coffee to brew in my Keurig. By the time I pour eggs into the pan, Nalia walks out of my bedroom, rolling her carry-on case behind her. She’d put her dark hair in a messy bun, and she didn’t bother with makeup except something on her eyes that makes them pop. Dressed casually in a pair of white jeans and a navy tank top, she looks like she’s ready to jet off for a fun weekend rather than just finishing one.
I study her while I stir the eggs, realizing I like her just the way she is. Just the way we are. Hookups when we can, with no expectations beyond that.
“Coffee’s ready,” I say, nodding at the Keurig.
Wrinkling her nose, she admonishes me as she moves that way. “I expect you to have a decent tea stocked the next time I’m in town.”
“I promise,” I assure her with a grin, giving the eggs a last scramble before pulling them off the heat.
“And when might that be?” she inquires, opening my fridge. She grabs the milk and turns my way, letting the door swing shut on its own. “I mean… when would you like me to return for another visit? Or maybe my flight schedule might mesh with the dates you’ll be in Raleigh playing the Cold Fury. You have your schedule already, right?”
Her request gives me pause. Usually, we aren’t the “let’s make plans” type of people. We typically kiss goodbye with vague promises to let each other know our schedules to see if we can make something work. But right now, Nalia is asking for a date.
She pours some milk in her coffee, pulls the cup to her mouth, and blows across the steaming surface. Her eyes meet mine over the edge of the cup as she takes a tentative sip.
“This is okay?” I ask hesitantly, waving my spatula to indicate the space between us. “The way things are between us?”
Nalia tilts her head. “What do you mean?”
For some reason, it embarrasses me to say it aloud—not on my behalf, but because I don’t want Nalia to think she’s less than by the loose nature of our relationship.
When I don’t answer right away, she takes a stab. “You mean, with being just a booty call?”
I grimace. She’s not wrong, though, so I nod. “It works for us, right?”
“It totally works, darling,” she murmurs, giving me a confident smile. “I guess I just missed that amazing cock of yours these past months since you moved, and I can’t wait to get on that ride again.”
I roll my eyes, but she’s not wrong about that either. We’re excellent in bed.
“I’ll pull up my schedule later, then send you the dates I’ll be in Raleigh. I’ll also let you know some free weekends I might have once the season starts, but they’ll be few and far between.”
Which is yet another reason this could never work. Trying to mesh Nalia’s schedule with mine is a nightmare. Long-distance relationships don’t work, especially with our incompatible careers.
Nalia glances pointedly at her watch. I hastily make her a sandwich while she orders an Uber to take her to the airport. By the time I have her breakfast wrapped in a paper towel, she’s putting her empty coffee mug in my dishwasher.
She takes the sandwich I hold out, puts it on the counter near her purse, and sidles closer. Sliding her hands behind my neck, she tips her head back. “Thank you for a lovely weekend.”
“My pleasure,” I reply with a smile, dipping to kiss her. “And I promise… tea will be in stock next time.”
“Until next time then,” she replies, pulling away from me.
Yes, this is the best type of relationship to have, especially since I can honestly say I’m not the slightest bit sad to see her walk out the door. I like Nalia, but I’m not going to pine for her. That lack of pining is what a man should want when a woman walks away, right?
I give a mental shrug. What the fuck do I know about it? I’m happy the way I am, and that’s all that matters.
Nabbing her suitcase, I carry it to the door for her. She turns her body into mine for one last kiss goodbye. This one lingers a bit, silently conveying this was a good weekend and maybe we’ll have one equally so in the future.
Vague works for us.
I open the front door, intent on letting her exit first before I set her rolling case down, but there’s already someone standing there.