Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 92070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
"Is it?"
She shoots me a get real look. "How else would you describe this place?"
A perfect place to watch you come. "Loud."
"Eclectic?"
"Exciting." An exciting place to undo your jeans.
She taps a message into her cell. "How about this?"
It would be more fun if you were here.
"Perfect." My stomach churns. I don't want to watch her flirt. I don't want to help her flirt. I want to down my elixir, then three more, then three more after that.
She hits send. He replies right away.
Maybe next time.
I take another sip. "You should make plans. Specific ones."
"Tomorrow?"
"Perfect."
She texts.
How about we go out tomorrow?
He replies.
Just you and me? Or the three of us?
She looks to me for a suggestion.
"Do you need me there to feel comfortable?" I ask.
Her eyes fill with something I can't place. "It helps."
"I can't be there in the room when you screw him."
She presses her lips together. "I know." She sends a reply.
Just the two of us.
I finish my drink in one sip.
Just the two of them. Fucking perfect. Absolutely, completely perfect.
Thankfully, Archie signs off quickly. He has an early morning, and he needs time to prepare.
Time to fuck himself, thinking of Val, probably.
Or maybe that's me.
I push the idea aside as I order another round. Val plays with the LED panel under her disco ball as we wait—they let her keep it. She tries every setting, all red, all green, all blue, all purple, then every mix of colors, in every direction, flashing or moving back and forth.
After two rounds, she settles on the simple all red pattern.
The one that best matches my drink, her lips, the color of passion.
It's an LED panel, not a confession of lust. Get a grip.
The drink arrives quickly this time. I take another round of pictures, make a rough plan for tomorrow, ask what we should watch when we get home.
"I'm too tired," she says.
"What do you want in the background while you fall asleep on the couch?"
She smiles. "You know me too well." She takes a long sip. Lets out a soft sigh. "What about Bringing up Baby? Or is that too zany for this time of night?"
"Nine thirty?"
"Don't say that." She looks at the time on her cell. "It feels like three a.m."
"We've barely slept."
"Still." She takes another sip. "I can't believe I'm going to do this again in two weeks."
"Fly six thousand miles?"
She nods. "And adjust to the time difference."
"That's the last time for a while."
"Maybe. I'll miss it here."
"Enough to come back?" I ask.
"Once I have the miles," she says.
"Your mom will gift you the miles," I say.
"I know, but I want to be more independent." She turns toward me. "I'm starting grad school."
"Is that feasible?"
She arches a brow.
"Financially?"
"Sorta. The stipend isn't generous, but I have school housing and loans."
"Your parents will help."
"I don't want to wait another four of five years to become a real adult."
"Who feels like a real adult?" I ask.
"You have a job and an apartment," she says.
So does she. "Where are we staying tonight?"
"My parents pay the rent. You know it's different. You'd never ask your dad for money."
"My dad is an asshole," I say.
"My dad is an asshole too. Not as much as yours, sure, but he is." She takes a long sip. "I don't like needing their help. I don't like being so far behind at everything."
"Val, you're twenty-two."
"I know."
"That's how it is for everyone I know."
"What about Patrick?" she asks.
"He inherited his place."
"Oh." Her lip corners turn down. "Right. Shit. I'm an asshole."
"You don't need to have his personal life memorized."
"But—"
"No, but. You work harder than anyone I know."
She presses her lips together.
"Is this about"—I take a deep breath and push an exhale through my teeth—"sex?"
Vulnerability streaks her expression. It is sex. It's all about sex. "It's been three years."
Which is an eternity, yeah, and this is hard, yeah, but we can make it happen. No, she can make it happen. "And you've got a plan."
"But maybe it's too planned, you know?" She turns another few degrees toward me. "Flirt via text, flirt in person, kiss, proposition him."
"When did we make that list?" There's something here, something I'm missing.
"Isn't that the idea?" she asks.
"The idea, sure," I say. "But it's not an instruction manual. You can do what feels right."
"How do I know what feels right?" she asks.
"How did it feel when he kissed you?" My stomach churns at the mental image.
"Odd."
My shoulders fall.
"Like when you kissed me?" Shit, I need to stay away from that topic.
"No." She laughs at the memory. Her cheeks flush. Her chest too. "That was different."
"How?"
She brushes her hand through my hair. "It just was."
"Was it odd?"
"Yeah, but in a good way. I knew I could trust you." Her fingers brush my temples. "Could I?"
"Huh?" That feels way too fucking good.
"Were you honest about my skill?" she asks with a smile in her voice.