Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 103102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“It is.”
“It was sexy,” I say. “A little shy, sure, but I liked that about him. I like shy guys.”
“Guys like me?”
Why would he say that? My cheeks flame. “You’re not shy anymore.”
His cheeks redden, too.
“No.” I swallow a sip to buy myself time to think, but I don’t come up with anything. “I don’t like shy guys anymore. But I did then.”
“Was he shy every step of the way?”
He’s a romantic. Why is he going straight to sex? “In a way. But he always let me know he wanted me. And that felt good. Which is stereotypical of me. Women want to feel desired. It’s a stereotype, but the data shows it’s common.”
“Men are the ones messaging women?”
I nod. “And liking profiles. And sending compliments.”
“You know all that?” he asks. “Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”
“Users only supply as much data as they’d like to supply.” Most opt-in completely. Most of us gave up on Internet privacy a long time ago. Or they’re willing to sacrifice it for love. After all, the more access we have to users, the better we understand what they truly want, which means we can match them with someone they truly want. “We don’t look at the info for kicks. We use it to help people find the perfect match.”
“What does that mean?”
“Someone compatible.”
“Someone they’ll love?” he asks.
“Someone with the same goals. Someone who’s statistically likely to match well.”
He doesn’t address the issue of compatibility. “Were you happy with him?”
“At first.”
“What happened after the kiss?”
“He pursued me,” I say. “He’d ask me on dates, buy me flowers, take me to the beach to watch the stars. After a few weeks, we did more than kiss, and then we got official. Back then, I wanted to be around him all the time, in his space, near his scent. At first, I thought that was love.”
“What was it?”
“Infatuation. Chemicals in my brain, trying to keep me close for long enough to propagate the species. My body doesn’t understand the concept of birth control. It only feels that drive to fuck.”
“That’s all sex is?” he asks.
“All? No. But that’s a lot of it.”
“Did you feel a drive to fuck him?” he asks.
“At first.”
“And then?”
“Then I didn’t.”
“Why not?” he asks.
“We didn’t want the same things there,” I say.
“What did he want?” he asks.
“No.” I shake my head. “This was plenty of access. You’re going to have to buy me another drink for that one.” I look to the dance floor. Sure enough, the kids in matching collars are still there. This is the perfect place to discuss Stephan. It really is.
“Give me a clue.”
“No. If you want to know, you can buy me a drink, or you can take me to the dance floor. Your call.”
Chapter Ten
River
Even after two drinks, Deanna moves with effortless grace. Every gesture is smooth and subtle. Refined in a way I can’t begin to articulate.
She lifts her glass to her lips and takes a dainty sip. Her wine-stained lipstick stays perfect. Her attention stays on me.
There’s an intensity to her stare, but it no longer feels disarming. She’s not trying to pick me apart. She’s trying to dive deeper, to flip through my pages, read every line.
Why does that sound so fucking dirty?
The vodka is going to my head. Not to mention the jet lag and the wine-red lips.
Deanna Huntington is a beautiful woman. I’m still a man. I still notice.
That’s all it is. A physical, biological reaction. It doesn’t mean I want her.
It means it’s been too long, and I need a solo session when I get home.
I swallow my sip and collect her empty glass.
“One more,” she says. “Then we talk.”
“Who will drive home?” I ask.
“Uber,” she says. “But who’s going to collect Lexi’s car tomorrow?”
“Lexi.”
Deanna laughs. “Sure. She deserves that.”
I raise a brow.
This time, her laugh is big enough to light her entire face. Unlike Lexi, she doesn’t shine like the sun. But she glows in her own way.
The moon. This soft, silver symbol of feminine beauty.
“That’s the first sign of sibling rivalry I’ve heard from you,” I say. “Ever.”
“Nice try, River, but it’s time to pay your bill.” She offers her hand as if she’s asking for cash.
I pick up the glasses.
The light fades as I turn away from her, but it’s different than it is with other people. Some of the glow lingers. Because I still have her attention? Or because that’s what Deanna does?
I’m not sure.
I face Alice with a smile. “Another, please.”
She shoots me that same are you really wasting that girl’s time look, shakes her head, and fixes two drinks. “Let her down easy, okay?”
She writes I mean it, River on the receipt. I don’t argue. I slip the paper into my back pocket, carry the drinks to the table, and sit across from Deanna.
“All right, Mr. Beau.” She wraps her long, narrow fingers around the stem and pulls the glass to her. “What exactly do you want to know?”