Miranda in Retrograde Read Online Lauren Layne

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
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“Real life,” he repeats, the easy teasing of his tone vanishing. “That’s the second time you’ve said that in the last five minutes. So all of this”—he gestures around Lillian’s home—“these past few months, this hasn’t been real life?”

“Well.” I swallow, because suddenly I’m getting the same vibrations from him that I did from Lillian. Disappointment.

Except with him, it also seems tinged with disgust.

“I just mean… of course it’s been real,” I clarify. “But also, you know. Temporary.”

He says nothing, and I keep talking.

“These past few months are a blip. A hiccup. A sabbatical, if you will.”

“I see.”

There’s something completely new and unfamiliar in his voice now, and a tightness in his features that I haven’t seen since New Year’s Eve.

“I’m not saying this correctly,” I say desperately. “I’ve made it sound like this time at Lillian’s was some sort of cosmic mistake. What I meant was this has been a really, really nice vacation.”

He says nothing.

“And a big part of what’s made it so nice has been my new friend.”

Still nothing.

“You, idiot,” I say, exasperated. “You’re the friend.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Then why?” I huff, frustrated. “Why do you look like that?”

“Like what? This is my face.”

“No. I mean, yes, your face always looks like it’s carved out of freaking granite, but you’ve put up, like, a wall.”

“What, so you read people now? Not just star charts and nerdy papers?”

“See?” I gesture with a finger up and down. “I’m not even going to get mad at that, because I can see you’re lashing out from behind your wall.”

“I’m not…” He inhales deeply. “You’re so annoying. I’m not lashing out. And there’s no wall.”

“Prove it.”

He rolls his eyes upward. “I’m leaving. Andromeda, very nice to meet you. Miranda, let me know when you quit being weird.”

“Prove it,” I say again. “Prove that you’re not trying to push me away. That we’re still friends.”

I put a slight emphasis on the last word. To remind him that he was the one who set those expectations.

Archer lets out a resigned sigh. “What do you want me to do? Write you a best-friend sonnet? Make you some sort of bracelet? Offer to feed your fish while you’re away like I do your plants?”

“You’ll do that last one anyway,” I say with confidence, trying not to let myself think that that arrangement will only last as long as I’m here at Lillian’s. Just a couple of more months, which suddenly seems like not nearly enough time for… for anything.

“I was thinking a hug,” I say, even though I wasn’t thinking it until just now. It just popped into my head, and I’m surprised by how much I want him to say yes.

“Not really a hugger,” he says, giving me a wary look like he’ll bolt at any time.

“Me neither, historically. Maybe we just need practice.” Acting entirely on instinct and a need I can’t define, I step forward and slip my arms around his waist. Archer stiffens immediately, but a half second later surprises me by relaxing. His arms close around my back.

I’m not sure if he pulls me closer, or I wiggle in of my own accord, but somehow what should have been a brief and simple hug feels more like an embrace that I never want to end. His stomach is firm and warm against my chest, and the way he glides a hand up over my spine, pressing his palm firmly between my shoulder blades, feels almost protective. Possessive.

I don’t know how long the hug lasts. Or who gently shifts away first. But I know that when it’s over, we don’t quite meet each other’s eyes. That that wasn’t a normal hug between friends.

Most poignantly of all, the ache deep in my chest knows that this may not be real life.

But it’s real something.

Something I’m terrified to name.

AQUARIUS SEASON

Today will not unfold as planned, dear Gemini. Trust that what seems like a mishap is actually the universe correcting itself, putting you back on the path that you were meant to take. Your instincts are spot-on, and every step you take now is a necessary part of your journey toward what you’ve been seeking.

Except for the couple of years I was with Daniel, Valentine’s Day is my and Daphne’s day. It started out as pizza and cheap rosé on the couch while she explained the nuances of reality TV to me. But the last two years, we’ve upgraded the whole affair.

We don’t go out. The whole fixed-menu, reservations-required, stilted formality? Pass. But that doesn’t mean that we don’t go all out.

We dress up. We take turns cooking for each other, and we go fancy: scallops, caviar, filet mignon. Then there was the fancy ice cream and lobster rolls and Thor night last year.

As a result? I love Valentine’s Day.

Truthfully, I’ve never really understood the whole bitter-because-I’m-single thing. I can be single. I can even like being single. And still enjoy romantic love and all the clichés that come with it—chocolate, roses, even sappy love songs. Daphne and I do it all together.


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