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)
Dare swallows hard. Surprised.
I think. It is sorta odd for two college juniors to date for six months without sleeping together, much less making each other come.
"Were you comfortable?" he asks. "Making out with him?"
"Not the first few times. But, after that, I guess… I trusted him."
"Did he get hard?"
"Dare." This is not a normal conversation.
He stays firm.
Shit, now I'm thinking of him firm.
"Do you want to do this or not?" he asks.
My phone buzzes in my lap again.
He softens by about five percent. "Is that the target?"
"Probably."
"Should we flirt with him?" he asks.
"If it ends this conversation."
"Nothing ends this conversation."
Another text buzzes in my lap. It is located very close to a fun place. Not close enough to distract me from the horror of the conversation but close enough to add to the nerves in my stomach.
Dare raises a brow. "You gonna get that? Or you want me to add to the fun?" He pulls his cell from his pocket.
My blush spreads to my chest. My entire body buzzes.
Dare thinks about the vibration in my lap. Dare thinks about my orgasm. And, yeah, it's certainly in the same I want you to have a full life, my best friend way it was when he gave me a vibrator (a pretty good one too).
But my body, my ridiculous body, gets other ideas. It dives, headfirst, into those other ideas, and sends heat to every molecule.
It's still confused with this whole trust versus desire thing.
"We can table it," Dare says. "If we start flirting."
"Deal." I pull out my phone. "You won't be weird, right?"
"When have I ever been weird?"
"Jason."
He chuckles. "Jason was into it."
Jason was into the whole you've been a bad boy thing. "I think he was in love with you."
"Who wasn't?"
"Has anyone ever told you to work on your self-esteem?"
"Everybody, yeah." He taps something into the phone. Smiles. "This is juicy."
"Do I want to know?"
"I'll be good. I promise." He reads again, studies, types something else, and shows me.
No. There's another guy I like.
"Too much?" he asks.
No. It's smart, actually. Really smart. But—"I don't want him to think I'm looking for something serious."
"Aren't you?"
"No. I want to leave it in Europe."
"He's your friend, though. It's different."
For him, it is. "He's not like you."
"Handsome?"
"He doesn't sleep around."
For a split second, hurt fills Dare's eyes, then he blinks, and it's gone.
Or maybe I imagined it.
This is… awkward, to say the least.
"I don't judge you for it," I say.
He shrugs like it doesn't matter. "How about this?" He taps another text.
There's someone else I want.
"Too direct?" he asks.
"No. It works."
He hits send.
My phone buzzes with a reply right away.
But, for some reason, I don't feel the excitement I expect. I don't care how Archie replies, if he wants me too, if he's interested in this whole thing.
"Oh, that's good." Dare smiles. Happy. Excited. A totally platonic wingman.
Which is exactly what I want. "Can I see?"
"Not until I'm done with him."
Chapter Ten
VAL
Dare has a little too much fun flirting with Archie.
He plays coy about my potential crush, dropping hints I want Archie but never coming out to say it.
I take my phone back to wish my roommate goodbye, then I turn my cell on airplane mode, board, settle into my seat.
The space isn't exactly luxurious, but it's nice enough. We're lucky. We're next to each other without anyone on either side. Dare has the aisle; I have the window. Thank goodness for two-seat rows.
I rest my head on Dare's shoulder, studying one of the books on my summer reading list.
"What are you reading?" Dare interrupts.
I shoot him a death glare.
He smiles. He loves riling me.
And, well, I love it too. Right now, I need it. I need the reassurance from the person I trust more than anyone. I need to feel like things are normal between us.
"A book," I say.
"Called…"
"Why do you think I have an eReader?"
"Because you love when men interrupt you to ask what you're reading?" he asks.
"Damn. You found me out."
"You're predictable," he says.
"Frankenstein," I say.
"Really?"
"It invented the modern horror genre," I say.
"You hate horror."
"I hate modern horror."
"Oh? Should we watch Night of the Living Dead on the plane?" he asks.
"I'm trying to broaden my knowledge."
"Books by women?"
I clear my throat.
He laughs. "Predictable."
"You know, in some cultures, horror is considered more of a woman's genre. Because it's so visceral. The other side of romance."
"You want to bone someone or you want to run from them?"
"Sorta."
"I see that."
Me too. Especially after everything. But there we are again. The topic I don't want to, but totally have to, touch.
Dare doesn't force me to dive in. "Is it good?"
"So far."
"How many books have you read on this mission?"
"Four," I say.
"In five days?"
"Two weeks," I say.
"Wow? Two weeks? Those are rookie numbers, Diaz."
"Oh, yeah? How many books did you read in the last two weeks?" I ask.