Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 79183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I can’t help but smile. “I think you’ll be fine.”
“I’m always fine.” He leans in and rests his head on my shoulder. “But I could be finer.”
“More fine?”
“Shhhh, you’re ruining the moment.”
“Yeah okay, Jacob.”
“Quinn, the names Quinn.”
“Oh right, but you’re totally the Jacob in this scenario, congrats, you’re the werewolf; he’s the vampire.”
He gently shoves me away. “I wanted to be the vampire.”
“And yet you aren’t.”
“I bite harder.”
“See? Werewolf.”
“That felt like trickery somehow.”
I just mess up his thick gorgeous hair. Ambrose meanders back into the room with a bottle of Gin.
“Wow, night two, let’s not get too crazy.” Quinn jokes.
Ambrose pours three shots for each of us and stares down at the glass. “Never have I ever wanted to kiss someone so bad.”
“Bro!” Quinn exclaims. “If you want it come and get it.”
We all laugh, and so goes our game for the next hour, confessing, laughing, while Johnny Depp drinks rum in the background.
“…Never,” Quinn whispers while Ambrose snores next to us on the other couch. “Have I ever wanted my friend’s girl more than I do now…”
I smile over at him and grab his hand. “I’m not that special.”
His eyes lock on mine as he takes his shot. “I beg to differ.”
“Just kiss already,” Ambrose grumbles. “Kiss her, you idiot, God, I hate this movie sometimes.” He’s in and out of watching the next one on Netflix.
“Damn.” Quinn laughs. “And here I thought I just got permission.”
“You would only need mine, not his,” I say.
He pauses. “Can I kiss you?”
“No…” I almost feel sad saying it. “…but you can give me all the hugs you want.”
“Thought so.” He pulls me into his arms. “Can I have a few minutes, just like this?”
“I’ll set a timer.” I joke.
“Please…” his voice changes. “Don’t.”
My heart cracks a bit as I whisper. “Okay.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Mary-Belle
I wake up hours later to Quinn’s snoring from the floor and notice that the place Ambrose was lying on the couch is empty. Maybe he’s going to the bathroom?
I stumble down the hall in search of water when Ambrose comes out of the bathroom.
We stare each other down.
He looks ruffled and sexy with his hair poking out in every direction, and his full lips look so sexy I want to cry.
He gives me a sleepy grin. “Sorry, had to pee, and bonus didn’t have an erection, so I was actually able to, thanks to not sleeping next to you.”
“Boo.” I give him a thumbs down. “I was going to grab some water.”
“Can I come with?”
“Sureeeee.” I hold out my hand.
He stares at it for a few seconds, then takes it in his as we walk down the hall toward the kitchen. It’s dark and quiet, but it doesn’t feel lonely the way it used to.
Is it because Quinn’s here with us?
Is it because Ambrose and I have finally talked about everything?
Or is it because wherever this boy is—is my home?
I go to the fridge and open it, grabbing a bottle of water. Ambrose comes up behind me and closes the fridge with his hand, I never really paid attention to hands, but his fingers are beautiful.
Even though they can do insanely wicked things.
I shiver and stare at our little list of rules.
“How did you and Quinn become friends anyway?” I’m staring straight ahead, making small talk even though I’m genuinely curious.
“Well…” Ambrose pulls me back against him. “He kind of just forced it on me, sat next to me in Math, told me he was a numbers guy. I didn’t believe him, a bet turned into me buying him a burger, and we both complained about parents that gave us shit. I later found out that his dad was one of my dad’s lawyers for a few projects, and my parents approved of our friendship because we’re both rich as fuck.”
“Until they didn’t, right?”
He’s quiet, and then. “Until they thought he was my boyfriend, pretty much.”
I start to trace the different letters on our agreement. “Why didn’t you deny it?”
“Because they were being pretentious cunts,” he says. “And insulting. And I was pissed. I shouldn’t have to ask them who I can love. Parents’ love should be unconditional. I guess in a perfect world, there would be, but in my dad’s world, there were rules, and that would count as breaking them.”
I nod. “That’s sad.”
“Very sad.”
“So why did you guys have the falling out?”
“Because at the end of the day, he chose her over me; he says he had no choice, his hands were tied, but part of me wonders if it wasn’t just because he wanted something that I did, we’d always been competitive. I saw it as a challenge, I think he saw it as a threat. Who really knows? She’s the worst, at least, we both know that now.”
“She really is.”
Nerves wrack my body as I reach for the marker still taped to the fridge. “Are we going to be okay?”