Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“No,” I say simply, satisfaction buoying my chest when her ears turn red. She may not be mine anymore, but we were together so long, she couldn’t hide that kind of tell if she tried. My casual refusal is killing her.
She wants control over me in both mind and emotion, and I refuse to give it to her.
“Why not?”
“Because friends treat each other with respect.”
“Beau, I’m showing respect right now. I’m showing you that we can be friends,” she whispers, a wave of emotion making her face crumple. I don’t know if it’s bullshit or real, but I’ll never be the best judge of that—I thought our relationship was real for a long time, when, obviously, it wasn’t. I don’t say anything. Not because I can’t, but because I don’t want to. I put this shit behind me six months ago, and all I’m interested in doing is moving forward.
She glances between me and Seth’s office, and when he starts to stand up from his chair and head toward her, her entire demeanor changes. Puppy-dog eyes and pouty lips morph into a straight back, her head held high, and her very best smile plastered across her face.
She’s putting on a show, that’s for sure. I just can’t decide if it’s for him or for me.
“Hi, honey,” she says, welcoming him with a chummy smile and far-too-graphic kiss. Internally, I sigh. I should have walked away and left her here minutes ago.
“Hey, baby.” Seth pulls her in for a hug, making a pathetic show of squeezing her ass as he does. “Little reunion?” he questions, holding eye contact with me.
“Just saying hi,” Bethany says, but I don’t say anything at all.
Instead, I just smile at him. Just smile like a man without a single fucking care in the world.
I may be over the betrayal, but I’ll take every opportunity to make this asshole doubt and wonder until I’m buried in my grave. You don’t go behind your best friend’s back and steal his girl without consequences. And if he is going behind my back and trying to steal my Midnight campaign, fuck him for that too.
As far as I’m concerned, Seth McKenzie can blow a fucking goat, and from the way he acts, he feels the same way about me too. It’s Bethany who’s the tougher nut to crack, and the more I think about her attitude, the more my Spidey-senses start tingling.
I’m showing you we can be friends, Beau. Her words repeat in my mind, and they most certainly don’t sit well in my gut.
I swear to fuck, I’ll break something if I find out Bethany is the Mystery Woman and started all this just to screw with me.
“You ready to go to lunch?” Bethany asks him, trying to move his attention back to her, and turning him away.
I smile at Seth again, my exterior iron-clad while my mind races with Midnight messages as I try to remember them all. But I no longer have the urge to chat with Clara Lay—or anyone else in the office, for that matter.
I’m on edge now. My mood ruined. And I won’t feel better until I know who Mystery Woman is.
The screen of my phone is bright against my eyes as I stare at it, moonlight pouring through the skylight window on the far side of my bedroom.
My hair is still wet from my shower, and a chill coats my bare skin as the air conditioning kicks back on. Thanks to the growing, glowing pile of embers in my stomach, I didn’t make it past a pair of plain black boxer briefs in my quest to get dressed.
I opened the Midnight app five minutes ago, but thanks to Henry and my other buddies, I haven’t had a chance to send a message yet. Our ongoing group chat is miles long, and their recent chatter is downright insane. Seriously. My fucking phone won’t stop buzzing. Quickly, I scroll toward the end, ignoring a shit-ton of nonsense, and read the last few messages they’ve sent.
Henry: What time are you meeting us here, Beau?
Mav: Allure is poppin’, bro.
Ronnie: Yesssir.
Henry: Stop treating us like a Tinder fuck, Beau-nana dick. Ghosting goes against our bro-code.
I’ve known Henry, Ronnie, and Maverick for most of my life. We went to grammar school together, high school together, and attended college together at the University of Miami, with Seth as the fifth member of our group. If he hadn’t ruined shit by fucking my girlfriend behind my back, I’d probably be able to find shit from eighth fucking grade in this thread still.
Fingers to the screen, I type out a response.
Me: We don’t have a bro-code. If we did, making sure Ronnie stays away from whiskey would be rule number one.
Mav: I second this. Ron turns into a psycho when he’s on the whiskey-sauce.