Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“Jessica,” my father placates, “he made a mistake. We all make mistakes.”
“Yeah, he bumped into another vagina by mistake. His penis accidentally fell into her,” Ryleigh snorts. “I hope she makes you pay.”
“There is nothing I can say to make what I did right.” I hold up my hand. “But I’ve spent the past eight months working on this and making myself be the man she deserves.” No one says anything. “It took that moment to realize I’m in love with her.”
“Nothing says I love you like a skank whore on your dick,” Ryleigh goads, and my mother glares at her. “I’ll forgive him tomorrow, but today”—she looks at me—“you’re an asshole.”
“Duly noted. Now that I’ve told you what I did, I have to let you go and get my girl back.”
“I have no words,” my mother says to me, “I just can’t. We taught you better.”
“This isn’t on you guys. I did this,” I assure her.
“Yeah, listen to him,” Ryleigh says. “You messed up with that one, but I’m perfect.” My father just looks at her, and his eyebrows pinch together. “Except for the one time I slept with my professor, but I didn’t know he was my professor.”
“I thought it was your TA?” my mother shrieks.
“Well, this has been a blast,” I say. “Love you all.” I disconnect and immediately text Gabriella.
Good morning, beautiful. Breakfast?
Is that a question?
Also, it’s noon.
I gasp and look at the clock, seeing that it is, in fact, after noon. Instead of texting her back, I call her, and she picks up right away. “Good afternoon, Romeo,” she answers and I miss her again.
“Good afternoon, beautiful,” I reply to her as I walk over to the closet and pull out a pair of jeans, throwing them on the bed. “How did you sleep?”
“Okay, what about you?” she asks as I walk into the bathroom and start the water to brush my teeth.
“I woke up when my mother FaceTimed me,” I tell her. “Then there was a family meeting about what an asshole I was.” She laughs. “My sister said she hoped I fell dick first into a cactus.” She can’t hide the laughter as it gets louder. “Yeah, it’s all fun and games.”
I brush my teeth while she laughs. “Well, I hope that you don’t fall into a cactus,” she says softly once she stops laughing.
“Did you eat?” I put on my jeans and then walk over to grab a T-shirt.
“Not yet.” I smile.
“Okay, I’m coming over, and I’ll bring stuff,” I inform her, grabbing my jacket and slipping my feet into my sneakers. “Be there soon.”
“Be safe. Watch out for those cactuses,” she says before I hang up on her.
I get the car from the valet and make my way to the grocery store, picking up things to make one of her favorite dishes. Before I park in her driveway, I even stop and get her some flowers. Grabbing all the bags and walking up to the door, I ring the doorbell, hearing her say she’s on her way. The door unlocks, and she pulls it open, the smile filling both our faces. “Hi,” she says, moving to the side. I walk in and dump the bags at my feet before reaching up and grabbing her face in my hands.
“Hi,” I reply right before I bend my head to kiss her, her tongue meeting mine. The kiss is quick, but I couldn’t not kiss her. “Missed you,” I say right before I kiss her again.
NINETEEN
GABRIELLA
He dumps his bags at our feet, and his hands come up to grab my face. The smile on my face is slowly covered by his lips as my tongue plays with his. He kisses me softly before letting me go. “Missed you,” he says right before he leans down to pick up the bouquet first. “These are for you.” He hands them to me and I take them and bring them right to my nose to smell them. This morning, when I woke up, I thought it was a dream, but then I saw the text again, so I knew it had happened. I am not going to say I was on pins and needles all morning long waiting for his phone call, but I’m not, not going to say it. Every single time the phone rang or beeped I jumped up, rushing over, only to be a tad disappointed that it wasn’t him. Okay, fine, not a tad disappointed, a lot disappointed. For the past eight months, he’s been pushed to the back of my head, and now it’s like he never left.
“Thank you,” I say, closing the door when he picks up the rest of the bags. “What did you buy?” I look at the six or seven plastic bags in his hands. He’s wearing jeans and a white shirt, and I wish I could hug him and bury my face in his neck, but I don’t know what the protocol is. I’ve never been in this situation.