Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“Do you like sunset walks on the beach with possible crab breath?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I’ve never done one,” I reply with a shrug.
“With the crab breath?”
“With or without crab breath.”
Her smile reminds me why my life has turned into a living hell. If I was just brave enough to ask her on a real date…but no. That would be a wrench in her life that she doesn’t want. You only have one chance to make a first impression, and I made such a terrible one that it’s going to linger like a bad crab stench for a lifetime. Dead crab. Hot sun. That kind of stench. The best we could ever be is friends, and even that might be a stretch.
“We definitely should, then.”
“To wash the bad taste of this whole experience out of your mouth?”
She laughs. “No, we should go because the beach is nice. Plus, I have gum, so no need to worry about crab breath or any other slightly dubious aftertastes.”
Chapter eleven
Evilla
Evilla
Apparently, our dates are disasters when they’re fake, when they’re not, and also when they’re supposedly not dates at all.
At least the beach is nice. It’s kind of weird because it’s not that late by the time we get there, only around eight and still at least an hour until sunset, but it’s really not that busy. There are zero sunbathers, only one adorable little girl walking with her mom but no other children, and a few couples and groups of friends, all of varying ages.
“I never come to the beach,” Mont says. It’s the first attempt at a conversation that he’s made since we left the crab place with a large number of to-go containers. There were a lot of appetizers left over since we ordered for four people and ended up only needing food for two. “Especially not during peak season.”
“I think peak season is technically in a week when school lets out. Or spring break, which has already passed.” I give the beach another once over. It’s so freaking peaceful. “It’s hard to believe it’s not still packed, given that it’s the end of the week, almost officially summer for everyone, and it was gorgeous today. I guess that’s pretty much every day here, though. Tampa truly is so beautiful. We’re very spoiled.”
Mont nods. “What about when you were little? Did you come here?”
Oh, we’re going to do this. Reminiscing on a sandy sunset evening walk. It feels borderline romantic, but he asked, and I’m one of those rare people who has a hard time not answering truthfully when asked something so directly. “We did, but I remember it always being so packed and rowdy. That’s the mental image I get when I think about the beach. That it’s just a party scene. I still loved it, though. Doesn’t every kid love the beach?”
“Probably. But it’s not that fun when the people outnumber the grains of sand here, either.”
“Exactly. It’s stressful. I don’t like big crowds,” I say.
“You?” He steps off the walking path. His Chelsea boots don’t look like the kind of thing made for the beach. He must think the same thing at the same time because he takes his boots off and hops around, trying not to get a bunch of sand all over his socks. Then, he gives up and eventually just shakes everything out.
I take mine off on the path. Technically, we still haven’t even made it to the beach yet. Well, I haven’t. I’m still on concrete.
The first step onto the sand feels like warm velvet. I remember, as a kid, getting sand up in a bunch of spots where sand isn’t meant to go. Getting your arse crack sandpapered all the way home in the car isn’t a great feeling, and I’m sure it’s not exclusively reserved for kids.
I wriggle my toes. There’s just something about an almost empty beach that makes me feel sort of free. The sound of the water crashing and lapping along the already wet shore is so peaceful, and the air smells exactly the way it did when I was little. Like salt and seaweed and just a little like lake mud. I’m sure it’s the mud that makes the lake smell so signature lakeish.
“Yeah, no.” Crowds. He asked me a question. The least I could do was pay attention after he was nice enough to offer to give me a ride in his spanking amazing car. Spanking. I remember once thinking that this man would give amazing spanks. Jesus, that’s a bad word to ever insert into a sentence because of the mental imagery I can’t control. “No, I don’t like them.”
“I didn’t think there was anything that made you uncomfortable. No situation where you couldn’t handle yourself and shine.”
Shine? Did he really just say shine? Also, how much of what Connor said was true? I thought Mont only wanted the displeasure of my company because we were scratching each other’s backs. We both had something the other wanted. There was a lot of stuff Connor said that I don’t agree with. He was probably blowing smoke out of his ass where Mont was concerned as well.