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)
"This is the second one today," I say.
"They caught on here," she says. "Not as much in the states."
"You sound European. It suits you." My eyes go to her red wrap top. The sharp line straight to her cleavage. "You look gorgeous."
"Thank you."
I force my eyes to her collarbones. Her lips. "Sophisticated."
She blushes. I think. Between the lighting and her skin tone, it's hard to tell.
"Do you feel at home, here?"
"Sometimes," she says. "Other times, not."
"What times?"
"There's a sense of history in Barcelona. It's not as rich as London or Paris, or even Madrid. We're more of a tourist spot. But I still love walking around and seeing buildings that have been here for generations."
"Is it your favorite place in Europe?"
"I don't know." Her eyes get hazy as she drifts into thought. "It's too hard to pick. I love every city in a different way."
"If you had to pick."
She answers right away. "Here. It feels like home. Like California and like it's a place I belong too. The city is so beautiful. I love the mix of modern stores and older buildings. The cobble stone streets and the Gaudi and the touristy parts of the harbor. And the beach. The beach… I can't wait to take you tomorrow."
I want to bottle her joy. I want to hold on to it forever. "Me either."
"The vibe here is more laid-back too. There's not the weird tension toward sex we have in the US. There are condoms on display in every single grocery store. They're not hiding behind the counter as if they're an embarrassment."
"That's never too much?"
The joy fades. Straight to concern over my concern. Val shoots me a don't look. "You promised."
I did. But I worry. The truth is, I don't trust another guy with her. Not after what happened.
And, yeah, she's my best friend, and I want her to have a fulfilling life, including sex with someone she wants, eventually, someone she loves.
I just—
I don't want to picture it.
Even so, I nod, yes, I promised. I will try my best to not go full caveman. Tomorrow. When I'm over how much I hate the thought of her with Archie. "Should we order?" I need to think about something else. At least for a minute.
"I need to survey my options." She pulls out her cell and scans the QR code.
"Not straight to a gin tonic?"
"When I can have a cocktail served in a fake lollipop?" She flashes the menu from her phone.
"Or a moon," I say.
"No. This is it." She points to the image on her cell. "Perfect, right? And for you." She scrolls to another drink and taps the screen.
"You're ordering for me?"
"Just a suggestion."
"Or I could order a vodka soda. Reject the entire premise of the bar."
She laughs. "If you know what you like, you know what you like."
I don't really drink fruity cocktails. Not because they're not macho. Because they're too much. But, hey, when in Rome… Well, when at a gay bar in Barcelona. "You convinced me. This is it. The Elixir of Love."
"That's good luck." She smiles.
Has her smile always been this beautiful? Has she always been this beautiful?
The deep red lipstick—that was a bad suggestion. It's doing things to me. Sending my thoughts to places they absolutely shouldn't go.
"Let me get these." She slides out of the bar. "Since you got dinner."
I nod. I try not to stare as she walks to the bar, but, hey, I'm right across from the mirror. And she looks fine as fuck in her snug jeans.
The position of this mirror—
There's so much potential to undo the tie holding together her wrap top, push the fabric over her bra, order her to watch as I toy with her.
Under her bra.
Then over her jeans.
They might be too thick. I might not be able to push her all the way. But the fun I'd have trying—
Red alert. Flag is flying.
I close my eyes, try to channel unsexy thoughts, but my body is too revved. My dick is in the driver's seat and it's not about to cede control.
No. This is worse. My head flits through memories of Val. All the times I noticed her curvy body and reminded myself that's Val.
The low-cut gown she wore to prom.
The breezy sundress she wore to graduation.
The summer she spent in her bikini, in her mom's pool.
The night she called me from school, crying, unable to get out a single word.
There.
That's what I need to remember. Val needs a guy like Archie. A guy as exciting as a vanilla latte. A guy who doesn't spend a two-minute interlude picturing her in a bikini.
Or out of a bikini.
Shit.
Back to the bikini.
Is my dick really this powerful? Since when can it override that?
"He's going to bring them out." Val's voice interrupts my attempt to corral my dirty thoughts. "You okay?"