Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
And yes, Cole and I did only have missionary-style sex, but that was because he would make me feel insecure about any folds my stomach found during those moments. Imagine trying to make love to only have a man tell you that you were looking extra pudgy as of late. Imagine kissing his lips as he whispered that you should consider a new diet. I’d never felt ashamed of my body until he told me where my shame should’ve lived.
Lori stood taller. “Now, I have to get going, sweetheart, but I thought you deserved to hear face-to-face why you can’t be a part of Sip & Dish anymore. You know how it is. When a couple breaks up, one can’t straddle the line. We had to pick a side, and since Cole is the chief over our guys, it only makes sense to stick with family. I’ll see you around town, though! I’ll be sure to say hi.”
“By all means, Lori,” I said through gritted teeth, “don’t.”
She gasped as if stunned by my words. “Cole was right. You are coming off as a bit of a bitch lately.”
After she left, I proceeded to drink all the piña coladas on my own before I collapsed into my bed and cried into my pillow, hoping to find better dreams than my current reality.
As I was nestled comfortably in my queen-sized bed, my alarm clock went off unexpectedly at three in the morning. I stirred a little until the realization settled in that it wasn’t, in fact, my alarm. It was a fire alarm blasting throughout my apartment, sending me into a tailspin of high red-alert panic.
Without thought, I shot up from my bed and began to hustle. Unfortunately for me, I slept in a tank top and my underwear, so I scrambled around to find pants to toss on. I grabbed my brown sweatpants lying across my chair stacked high with unfolded clothes and hurried to put my legs into them. My hands shook from panic at the thought of the building being on fire. I didn’t take the time to grab my glasses, so I flew with impaired vision through my apartment space, searching for my keys.
Once I located the keys between the cushions of my orange sofa, I tossed on my slippers, grabbed my wallet, and shot out the front door hastily.
“Is this a real thing?” my neighbor, Pam, asked as I entered the hallway. She was taking her sweet time debating whether it was a real fire. “Do we have to leave?”
“That’s the rule, Pam!” I spat out as I darted past her.
“Well, let me make my coffee first,” she said. “I can’t do a dang thing without my coffee.”
“No time, Pam!” I shouted. “Come on!”
“Okay, hold the elevator for me, will you?”
“No elevators during fires, Pam! Take the stairs,” I yelled over my shoulder.
“Okay, but my Stanley hates the stairs.”
I paused.
My eyes widened at the mention of Stanley, Pam’s dog.
Oh crap, Cocoa!
I spun on my feet and darted back to my apartment. As I scrambled for my keys, I dropped them twice before unlocking my door and opening it to find sweet Cocoa standing in my doorway giving me the most intense side-eye a dog could give. I could hear her thoughts now.
This is why you should’ve left me at Dad’s, Mom.
“Sorry!” I exclaimed as I scooped my dog and hurried out of the apartment again.
“Wow, you left Cocoa, huh?” Pam asked, shaking her head in disappointment.
“Get out of the building, Pam!” I ordered before darting into the hallway and down the stairs to the front of the building. Once I reached the outside, I found others standing around, waiting to see what was happening. Many had their pets with them, while Cocoa gave me the, “You were going to let me suffer in there, huh?” look of death.
“I said I’m sorry,” I muttered as I put her down on a patch of grass for her morning business. She began sniffing the grass as I sat on the curbside of the sidewalk and looked up at the building.
I didn’t see any smoke, which was a good sign. Then again, my vision wasn’t the best without my glasses or contacts.
But you know what I could see well enough? My crush. Standing on the other side of the building, he looked as if he’d just stepped out of a GQ magazine photo shoot at three in the morning. Even without my glasses, I could make out his good looks. Gosh, I bet he smelled good, too. Like blueberry biscuits and vanilla scones. As he turned around to face my direction, true panic hit me.
I was not in the right position to be face-to-face with JohnJake at that very moment. He couldn’t see me in my natural state of being! My hair was in a bonnet, half on; if I removed it, I was almost certain it would stick straight up like a troll doll. My breath smelled like a mixture of old eggs and dirty socks, and I wasn’t wearing a bra.