Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“Much better, thanks,” I say, meaning it. My back still aches a little but knowing I won’t have to be apart from Jess for two whole days makes the discomfort much more manageable.
And who knows, by the time we get back, things might have changed between us. There’s nothing like a return to your childhood stomping grounds to bring back good old memories.
And those are the only kind of memories I have with Jess. Even when we fought as kids, we always made up quickly. Our friendship was too important to both of us to let egos or stupid squabbles get in the way.
Hopefully it will still be like that, and when I eventually come clean, she’ll see that the end—the two of us together in London and her happy in her amazing new job—justifies the means.
Fingers crossed, I hurry to get ready for the impromptu trip, washing my face but leaving the scruff for Jess. Because she thinks it’s sexy, a fact that has me smiling like an idiot at my own reflection and all the way to Penn Station.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jess
I’m a coward.
A weakling. A wobbly-kneed, sniveling little baby woman who’s scared to face her mother without a friend along for moral support.
I suppose I should be ashamed of myself, but I’m just…grateful.
Grateful for Sam’s tall, solid self at my side as we navigate the crowd pushing toward the escalator leading down to the train. Grateful for a travel buddy so I don’t have to perform the “plunk my backpack in the empty seat beside me and scratch and twitch until all potential seatmates assume I have body lice and move on to another free space” routine.
Grateful for his hand warm on my thigh as we pull out of the darkness of the tunnels under the station and out into the sunny day, headed south toward the land of our youth.
That hand has me tingling all over and my panties in a state I should also probably be ashamed of, but I can’t bring myself to regret the chemistry between us. I haven’t felt this way in so long, not since the debacle of sophomore year of college, when I accidentally got high on what I thought was a normal gummy worm and ended up making out with my roommate’s little brother, who was visiting for the weekend from Schenectady.
But I could never be sure if it was the altered state of my brain or Walter’s kissing skills that had me in such a wrought-up state. I’m suspecting it was the former, considering Walter was just as nerdy and inexperienced as his sister, Wendy, and was only seventeen to my nineteen. Wendy teased me for months afterward about being a drug-dealing cradle robber, even though Walter was the one who slipped me the laced gummy.
Since then, I’ve made out with other boys and a few men, but no one who ever made my panties damp with a single touch. And certainly no one who could reduce me to an incoherent lust-puddle with a gentle squeeze of his fingers against my inner thigh and a whispered, “Do you want anything from the café car?”
“Um, w-what?” I stammer, even though I understood the question the first time. But a sick little part of me wants to hear him whisper the words again, this time hopefully a little closer to my ear.
“I was going to go grab a bagel and a tea, since I didn’t have time for breakfast before we left,” he murmurs, his breath warm on my neck, making my tingles ramp up to light-electrocution levels of intensity. “Do you want anything?”
“Coffee with cream and sugar, please,” I say, willing myself to get my act together, but my voice is breathy as I add, “And a banana if they have one. Or just…any kind of fruit that doesn’t look like it’s been rolling around in a basket for a decade.”
He chuckles, a low vibration that makes my nipples tighten inside my bra. “Got it. Be right back.”
He rises and moves through the seats to the front of the car, drawing appreciative looks from a college girl in an NYU sweatshirt still putting her suitcase above her seat. He stops to help her, even though he has a hurt back, and her look of appreciation becomes one of open flirtation.
Sam says something in return but moves on without lingering for more than a beat, clearly uninterested. Or maybe not even noticing the bat of her eyelashes. So far, it doesn’t seem like Sam is aware of the effect he has on the opposite sex, which would go a long way to explaining why he’s still holding on to his V-Card.
It may just be a matter of him needing to shift focus to notice the gorilla in the room.
When he returns from his mostly successful mission—no bananas were available, but he did manage to grab a decently fresh orange—I ask, “Ever heard of the gorilla experiment?”