Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
When he touched me and stayed down there, the bubbles bursting on the water’s surface, my whole body sizzled. I thought the water might start to boil.
It was even better when I had my hand on his unbelievably big dick. He was groaning with pleasure, his muscles bulging, a vein in his neck standing out like his passion was going to make him explode. At the end, he hugged me against him. It felt like we belonged together, but then I saw how he looked at me—the pain in his eyes, the resentment.
He said nothing as I left the swimming pool. What did I want him to say, exactly? We should go on a date sometime? Grab a drink? A bite to eat? What did I expect? What can I expect?
As crazy as it is, I wish Kayla was here so I could talk about it with her. For obvious reasons, that would be impossible. Yet she’s the person I usually talk to about my personal life. She’s always been my lifeline. Who else, then?
Swallowing a ball of nerves, I pick up my cell phone and call Mom. She’s always been there for me, too, but I’ll have to dance around the truth. It’s not like I can tell her it was Lukas.
“Maci?” Mom answers. “Is everything okay? It’s late.”
“Yeah…” No. “I was just wondering if you had time to talk.”
“Always. What a silly question.”
I smile, lying back in bed. The curtains are open, giving me a view of the sky; the stars are much brighter here than in the city.
“Something happened,” I say. “Something… uh, romantic. I don’t want you to freak and make it a big deal, okay? I just want to talk about it.”
After a pause—she’s probably pushing down a comment about the freak-big-deal thing—she says, “Okay, that’s fine. Let’s talk about it.”
“Basically, I, uh…” I’m not very good at lying to Mom, but it’s necessary. “I went to a party and met someone. The thing is, he’s… he’s an ex-boyfriend of Kayla’s.” This is the closest I can get to the truth without outright stating it.
“Did you sleep together?” Mom asks calmly.
“No, but we did… you know, other stuff.”
Mom’s tone stays calm, which I’m grateful for. “And how do you feel about him, apart from that stuff?”
I think about that momentarily, twirling a strand of my hair around my finger. “Honestly? I really like him, but that doesn’t make much sense.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t even know him.”
Mom laughs softly.
“What’s funny?” I ask.
“I said the same thing about…”
“It’s okay. Mark. You can say it.”
She swallows audibly. “If you don’t know him, what do you like about him?”
I wonder if I can explain these clashing feelings inside of me, this certainty that tells me I should somehow find a way to be with Lukas again, even if it means the end of the only real friendship I’ve ever had. “How did it feel with Mark?” I ask.
“Like I was a moth drawn to a flame,” Mom says. “No matter how much I tried to fight it, I couldn’t. It wasn’t his personality or his looks. It just… was.”
“Ditto,” I mutter.
“But you’re worried Kayla will hate you?”
“How couldn’t she?” I demand. “It’s her ex. It’s pretty much the worst thing a friend can do.”
“Did she care about this ex? How long were they together?”
All her life. I stamp down on that since it’d make no sense. This is where my lie is going to become less useful.
“She really cared about him,” I say, dodging the question. “It would break her heart if she found out. I don’t know what to do.”
“I think you first need to decide if this was a onetime thing or if you’re going to pursue a relationship with this boy.”
Boy. The word is so, so mismatched to Lukas. I almost laugh.
“Once you decide that, you can make a more informed decision about whether telling Kayla is a good idea. If you both agree it was a mistake—that you don’t want to do it again—my instinct would be to forget it ever happened. Pretend it never happened if you can’t forget. Go on with your lives. Chalk it up to a youthful blunder. God knows we’ve all made a lot of those. It all hinges on the question, Are you done with him?”
I swallow, thinking about Lukas somewhere in the house, remembering the hardness and the size of his manhood in my hand. I remember his moans, his mouth against my sex, and our bodies pressed close.
Then I think of Kayla and holding her tight against me when we learned about her mom’s overdose. I remember the time she stood up for me in the library, glaring at the jock who thought snorting at me was the epitome of comedy. I remember prom when every guy wanted to go with her, but she was adamant we’d go together as a pair—as best friends. “I won’t let you go alone, Maci.”