Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
“Anything for you,” the man says, then sets a hand on Jude’s shoulder and guides him a few feet away.
From me.
Jude leaves his beer behind, and it feels like a metaphor.
Great, now I’m comparing myself to a half-drunk beer.
Can this night please end, so I can go home and wallow in regret with my earbuds? I deserve a double dose of Zeppelin and The Allman Brothers Band.
I clench my fists, dig my nails into my palm. Breathing out hard, I try to get a grip on my emotions as the man in the suit comes my way. How can anyone be attracted to me tonight? Isn’t it obvious I’m drowning in a boiling vat of self-loathing mixed with jealousy?
“Great bar, isn’t it?” the suit says.
It’s a decent opener since it’s simple and not cringe-y. But it won’t work on me because he’s not Jude.
“Yeah, it’s a cool spot,” I say so that I’m not a dick.
And fuuuuck.
My mind lands on the great dick convo with Jude as the suit peppers me with questions.
Where are you from?
Do you like this song?
How’s your night?
I respond half-heartedly with monosyllabic answers, sneaking glances at Jude the whole time. Swirling his martini, Jude laughs and smiles. It’s a dance of seduction as the inked guy grins and runs a hand down my roomie’s arm.
I burn everywhere. I want to throttle that guy touching Jude.
“Earth to the American.”
I snap my attention to the suit. I’m an ass. “Hey. Sorry, man.”
“Can I give you a tip?” the suit asks.
I brace myself for a cold send-off. I deserve it. “Sure.”
The suit leans in, whispers in my ear, “You should just tell him you’re into him, mate.”
“Shit, I’m really sorry.”
He smiles. “Been there. Just get your man.”
“He’s not mine . . .”
The suit lifts a playful brow. “Not yet.” He drops a chaste kiss to my cheek and walks away.
Like acting on his advice is all too easy.
But I have to do this. It’s necessary. As necessary as writing the next chapter in my book. Drawing a fortifying breath, I turn around, march over to Jude, and do what I should have done earlier today. Tell it like it is. “We’re leaving.”
Jude snorts. “But the fun just started, roomie.”
The inked man drapes a possessive arm around my roommate and squeezes. “Don’t steal Jude from me.”
Yeah, some things are easy. Like this. “He’s taken,” I say to the guy.
Then I take what I want. Jude. I pull him outside into a stormy Sunday night in London. Fat raindrops pelt my head.
Jude stares hard at me. “What the hell was that about, TJ? This was your fucking idea.”
“And it was the worst idea ever,” I spit out.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have suggested it,” he counters, his voice full of fire.
“You’re damn right I shouldn’t have.”
“You think?”
“Yeah. I do think that.”
“So why the bloody hell did you?”
“Because I thought it would make things easier between us,” I say, or maybe I seethe. I’m still mad, but not at Jude.
I’m mad at myself.
For my supreme act of stupidity.
The sky flings water harder, and Jude slashes a lock of hair off his forehead. More drops slide down his face.
“And did it, roomie? Did it make things between us easier?”
“No, it made them harder,” I say as I try to rewrite the ending to tonight.
“What a shock. I’d never imagined trying to hook you up with another man would be difficult.”
I’ve got to break this cycle. I have to stop fighting with him. I have to say it. “I made a mistake,” I mutter, starting down the path of honesty.
“I didn’t hear you,” he says as the rain lashes us, as cars rush by, as truths rise on the edge of my tongue.
“It was a stupid mistake,” I say, louder, clearer. “My idea was a terrible way to deal with things.” Admitting it lessens some of the tension in me.
“Then get a better idea,” Jude huffs, locking his hard and fierce eyes on me.
It’s time. I go for it. I close the distance in seconds flat, lift my hands, hold his face. “This is a much better idea.”
I seal my lips on his, and I don’t hold back. I pour everything I have into this kiss. It’s like ten thousand kisses. It’s all the kisses in the city. All the times I’ve thought of Jude. All the longing. All the desire.
With my lips, I tell him all the things I won’t say out loud. The sentences form in my head.
I have a massive crush on you.
I can’t get you out of my head.
I’m a little bit crazy for you.
He tastes like he’s a little crazy for me too.
He kisses fearlessly, sweeping those lush lips over mine, nipping, biting, tugging.
Groans pass between our mouths like sips of a drink—a bottle shared back and forth for us to consume.