Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
To Do:
Drive to Hale House for Super Bowl party. (Birds vs. Bills. Gonna be a bloodbath.)
Blend. Like my favorite smoothie. Just blend right into the fam dynamics.
Show Luna why the Eagles are #1 in my heart (and they should be in hers too imo)
Don’t forget the chips and salsa.
Notes: First big gathering with her parents, aunts, uncles, and whole family since the holidays. Survived those, can easily survive this. Think they see me more as her bf, not as a bodyguard? Hope so.
Not fucking Luna is getting harder and harder (pun intended). The time hasn’t felt right to go all the way. That’ll change. Soon?
Also! Went on that triple date with Luna. Never seen her that quiet. She said she was okay tho. Can’t blame her for not chitchatting much. Tricky Dicky and Scooter are f-ing losers. Never been more sober in my life. Froggy got wasted, and Scooter wanted to spend the night with her. I said *no* and this mf-er got in my face. It ended with Quinn decking him. Frog crying. Luna and Jo consoling Frog. A shitshow. Best part was dancing with Luna under the blue lights. For a sec there, it felt like the whole world was ours.
Other news: my elf is a Procrastination King. Guy has been learning ASL for fun instead of working on his Fizzle presentation.
Not good news: accidentally scared a student at Dalton so badly she pissed her skirt. Granted, I said nothing. Just made brief eye contact. Felt like shit all day. Until Luna made me a PB&M sandwich. Peanut butter marshmallow. Tasted a lot like love.
Meals: Waiting until the party to partake. Gonna go down on a burger.
Water: GF’s Pussy: Hydrate: Hydrating on the tears of the Buffalo fans instead. (Will thirst after gf’s pussy later.)
Question of the Day: What position is the best position for a pseudo-virgin? Will Luna be able to handle me taking her multiple times in a row? How aggressive can I really be? Where in the world is Charlie Keating Cobalt’s clothing iron?
35
PAUL DONNELLY
The Hale House is alive. Appetizers, dips, and chips are spread out on every flat surface. Rose keeps frisbeeing coasters as soon as a drink touches wood. Best Coaster Police in town. It seems to be occupying her attention, which I’m all for since I thought I’d be on her shit list. Just by proxy of being on her sister Lily’s.
Surprisingly enough, I haven’t been on her radar. It’s made me less on edge, and I’m wondering if there’s nothing to survive here.
Except the potential loss of the Super Bowl.
Not that everyone cares about the outcome. Rose is less than enthused about football, just like her husband and children. I’ll love the Cobalts till the day I die, but they’re not without faults and this right here is their biggest one.
My guy Beckett is the worst Eagles fan. He’s seated on the window nook and chatting with his brothers. He lets out a half-hearted cheer when a major play goes down.
I’d say the Hales are attentive. Most with bowls of chips and eyes locked on screens—not always the TV, sometimes their phones. But nothing compares to the Morettis and Meadows, who are all on their feet.
“Fuck you, ref!” Sulli screams at the television.
Banks collapses on a chair, burying his face in his hands. Akara pats his back.
Thatcher lets out a long, agonized groan. “Come on!”
“You fucking fuck,” Ryke growls at the TV. “What fucking was that?!”
I heard how Ryke had four tickets to the Super Bowl. He planned to take Daisy, Loren, and Lily, but Lily wasn’t ready to venture into a crowded stadium. So he sold the tickets. It’s been easier to bond with Ryke during the first quarter of this game than it has every single interaction with Lo.
Don’t know why that is.
Ryke stands several feet from the mounted TV above the fireplace. Unable to sit with all the adrenaline pumping.
“Ref’s gotta be working for the Bills,” I say to Ryke from the couch. Luna has chosen a seat on my lap. Her legs are draped sideways, her Eagles jersey so big that it hangs below her kneecaps. But she’s wearing black leggings underneath. My hand has traveled underneath her jersey more than once.
We thought we were doing a public service taking less space on the couch, but I can tell we’re being “observed” like we’re a new species. We’ve never tried to tone it down, but I know the PDA has increased since the holidays. As we’ve fallen deeper into this relationship, we’re just doing what’s natural and we’re naturally more physical with each other.
I don’t mind the stares, and Luna’s too busy wrestling with an Eagles headband to notice. She made it from scratch. Glued on the poms and everything. But one of the green poms fell off on the way here, and she’s been trying to superglue it back together.