Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 97684 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97684 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
She scans the room. Taps her chin like she's using every bit of her concentration. Stops on a guy at the other end of the bar.
He is cute. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Strong shoulders.
He's sitting with a tall, blond friend, drinking a beer, laughing over something.
Luna offers her hand. "I'll go with you. Be your wingman."
"I'm a better wingman," Holden says.
"You'll scare him." She takes my hand. Motions let's go.
I finish my drink. Place it in my brother's hand. Follow my best friend to the other side of the bar.
"You do think he's cute?" she asks.
"He is." He's muscular and tan. No tattoos. Not nearly as appealing as Holden. But still incredibly attractive.
"Follow my lead." She stops in front of the pair. Flashes both guys a million-dollar smile. "Hi."
Both of them turn toward her. Like she's the sun and they're a plant desperate for nourishment.
"My friend and I are looking to dance." She turns to the guy with dark hair. "Her name is Daisy."
"Hi." I offer my hand.
He hesitates. Offers his. "Mark."
I shake. It's not like with Holden. My body doesn't buzz. My heart doesn't pound. My sex doesn't clench.
But when I turn back to the troublemaker, when I watch his eyes fix on me—
Is he already jealous?
God, I want him jealous. It's ridiculous. I don't want that. I never want that. But I do.
"I have to be honest," Luna says. "I bet her a drink that you'd want to dance with me."
Mark's laugh is awkward.
"But here's the thing. It's her birthday. And she won't let me buy her a drink." Luna places her hand on my shoulder. Shoots these guys a sweet please help my friend look. "But she lives to gamble."
The other guy smiles. "You don't seem like the type."
"I know. That's how she wins. Sweet innocent blond on the outside, card shark on the inside." Luna nudges me toward the dark-haired guy. "Help me buy her a drink. Please?"
"Yeah. Sure." Mark offers his hand. "Want to dance?"
"Okay." I take his hand. Follow him onto the dance floor. Watch as Luna sits at the bar. Flirts with the tall guy.
He buys her a drink.
Of course.
She's an evil genius. And super charming. Guys are always into her.
She says that I'm no different. That guys are always looking at me. That, one day, I'll see it. And it will mean I'm at a hundred percent.
It's weird, her knowing. Better than when I kept it secret. It was such a heavy secret. It made the walls between me and everyone else so thick. So high. So impossible to scale.
I felt so alone.
But it needed to be mine. When I realized people knew—
I was so ashamed. So scared. It took a long time to realize that was okay. That it didn't mean I was fundamentally broken. Well, no more broken than anyone else.
We're all a little fucked up.
That's what Luna says.
She's not like Oliver. She doesn't hover. Or bring it up. Or watch me eat.
She makes sure we don't skip meals or listen to negative body-talk.
But she doesn't make it a thing.
She just… is.
And now I just am. Tonight, I just am. For one night, I just am.
I turn to the dark-haired guy. Mark. I sling my arms around his neck. Move in time with the music.
This is one place where my brain doesn't step in. Where I'm one with my body.
I focus on Mark. He's a little shorter than Holden. His eyes are darker. Less luminous.
He's not nearly as handsome. And he's completely without charm.
But he's cute enough.
Safe enough.
At least when it comes to heartbreak. Maybe he's an ax-murderer. But he's certainly not interesting enough to hurt my feelings.
"Is it just you and your friend?" he asks.
"And a few other friends." That's close enough to true.
He places his hands on my waist.
For a second, I cringe. Not because I'm worried I'm off somehow, that I'm unworthy of touch. Because it's weird, having a stranger's hand on my body.
It's not like in salsa class. It's different. More… presumptuous.
We dance through the song.
The next one is faster.
He leans closer.
His hands slip lower.
His breath hits my ear. "Is it really your birthday?"
"Yeah."
"What are you doing to celebrate?"
"Uh. This." I suck a breath through my nose. Focus on the rhythm. Try to ignore how foreign his hands feel.
It's not him. It's me.
This is normal dancing.
I can enjoy normal dancing.
I can enjoy one night of fun without being the girl who's still broken.
"We're going to a party after this," he says. "Good drinks. Nice view. A couple of poker games."
"Poker games?"
"You're a gambler, right?"
"Right." That's our story.
His laugh flows into my ear. "You're cute."
"Thanks." I think.
"There's privacy too." He pulls my body into his. "If that's what you're looking for."
"Oh."
His hands drip over my hips.
Then lower.
To my ass.
It's too much. Too far.
I jump back.
A hand curls around my upper arm. A strong one.