Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 87856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
"In Santa Monica? We'll get arrested," she says.
"Once we cross the line into Venice," I say.
She laughs. "That will do it."
"Against the matcha shop on Abbot-Kinney."
"Screw I love you so matcha when you have I need to screw you so matcha," she says.
"Is that on your Instagram?"
"It should be."
"You have an Instagram?" I ask.
"Only the one I made to message you."
"It was empty."
"I know."
"We could fill it," I say. "With pictures of you."
"I'll get kicked off."
"They can be PG-13."
"I'll think about it." She shifts into casual conversation. "Do you like matcha?" She looks to my hand, but she doesn't take it. Instead, she resumes walking and nods for me to follow.
I do. "When it's sweet enough."
"You have a sweet tooth?"
"I can't take much bitter."
"But you drink coffee," she says.
"With cream and sugar," I say.
"And the Bud Light?"
"You didn't even see it," I say.
"You didn't deny it," she says.
"It's not as bad as it sounds."
"Maybe." She laughs. "I don't drink beer. I have no idea what's good or bad."
"It's not the worst, but it's not great either."
"Do you like beer?"
"Not anymore." It reminds me of the guy I used to be. It reminds me of the nights I spent trying to drink myself into oblivion. That takes a lot of beer. Way too much beer. "What do you drink?"
"Gin and tonic," she says. "But only one or two."
"That's smart. You stay clear-headed."
"Yeah. And… well, you know how some people are happy drunks and some people are mean drunks?" she asks.
"And some people are horny drunks?"
A laugh spills from her lips. "Is that you?"
"Are you going to ply me with alcohol to find out?"
"No. I couldn't bring myself to buy light beer. Or… what do you drink now?"
I don't, mostly. "Whatever sounds good."
"You're very agreeable."
"That's a nice way to say I don't have taste."
She laughs. "Well, you're helping me find what I like. Maybe I can help you find what you like too."
"I've never had a proper gin and tonic."
"No."
"Is it that surprising?"
"It's such an iconic drink," she says. "But it's not really at college parties."
"You go to many?"
"Some," she says. "Especially my freshman year." She stops at the light. The last one before the big stretch of nothing before Abbot-Kinney. "I didn't feel that connection everyone else seemed to feel."
"They weren't playing your music?"
"You heard me and Luna?"
"Enough," I say.
"I didn't have the heart to tell her I kinda like The Beach Boys."
"You are from surf city."
"That's Huntington Beach."
"Exactly," I say.
"Damn. That was good." She laughs. "It's more my dad. He got into American culture for a while. All those artists from the sixties. Action movies. Baseball. Only the baseball stuck, but I still have these happy memories of my parents dancing to I Get Around. They, uh, they're not as happy now."
"I'm sorry."
"We, uh, we should go to the party," she says. "For an hour or so."
"Make out in the backyard?"
"I'm okay with that," she says. "I have to admit something."
"Yeah?"
"I thought about you last night." She blushes. "When I touched myself."
"I tried not to—"
"Think of me?"
"Fuck myself. I like to wait."
"How long?"
"As long as I can."
"Days?"
I nod. "But I didn't make it. I was too excited. Had to take the edge off this morning."
"The edge—Oh. Do guys really do that?"
"Are you kidding? In high school? I was a minute-man."
"You admit that?"
"Why not? It's true. I learned. I had a few relationships. I started to enjoy waiting. It was a challenge, to see how long I could go, if I could make it."
"So it is a kink?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Probably."
"I did say I'd try it."
"Yeah, but not tonight."
"No, not tonight," she says.
"Does that mean you're ready?"
"To try doing this? In public?"
I nod.
She passes the matcha shop, a trendy boutique, a hip vegetarian restaurant. "Have you ever done this? Had sex in public?"
"In a car," I say. "In another room at a party. At a bar. Not sex, sex, but someone came. I was drunk though… I don't know if I'd have the nerve sober."
"You're the scared one?"
"You're the brave one," I say. "You're the one who invited me to her place."
"I wasn't brave. I was horny."
"My ego."
"You satisfied."
"That's better." I pull her closer. "We can start with something easy. Kiss in public. Touch under the clothes."
"Now?"
I stop in front of the bar I picked for this. "If you're ready."
She takes my hand and leads me inside.
Chapter Seventeen
IMOGEN
I'm officially crazy.
No, I've been officially crazy for a while now. I'm officially unofficially crazy.
I'm in a bar in the hippest part of the Westside, ready to reveal myself to Patrick.
Sure, I'm not ready to reveal my feelings? But my boobs?
I can show those off in front of strangers.
Thankfully, the place isn't too crowded. There are a dozen patrons, spread over the long bar, the pool table, the booths along the wall.
There—the corner booth. It's not totally private, but I can only see a portion of it from the entrance.