Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80314 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80314 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“You’re smart, beautiful, and worthy of a good man, so you need to show him what he’ll be missing out on if he messes up.”
“Is that what you did with Tony?”
“Absolutely.” She smirks. “On our first date, I suggested that we meet at a bar I went to often with my girlfriends, and while I was there with him, two men approached the table we were sitting at to talk to me.” She flutters her hand out between us. “Tony, as I hoped he would, went into caveman mode, making it clear we were there on a date. Then, later that night when he was walking me home, he made it clear that things between us were going to be serious and he didn’t want to share me with anyone else.”
“That all sounds great, except I’m not you. Aiden isn’t Tony, and I don’t get hit on everywhere I go.”
“You get hit on all the time. You just don’t get hit on by men you’d be interested in dating. And since you are the kind of girl who’s looking for a man and not a one-night stand you always brush them off.”
“Whatever.” I press my lips together, because she is not wrong. I mean, not that there is anything wrong with finding a guy attractive and hooking up; it’s just that it’s not something that appeals to me. Or at least the morning-after awkwardness doesn’t sound like a lot of fun.
“Is that him?” she asks when my cell that is on the table beeps. Picking it up, instant disappointment and annoyance settles in the pit of my stomach. The number isn’t the one programed into my phone for Mike and set to Blocked, but it must be him, because no one else would plead with me to talk to them.
“It’s not.” I quickly block the number, then groan when the bell goes off, signaling that our lunch is over. Shoving my containers into the bag, I carry my lunch in, Toya does the same with her stuff, then we get up and push in our chairs before leaving the lunchroom.
We dodge kids transferring between classes as we head down the hall, and when we reach the library, she grabs my wrist, then leans in to me, whispering, “I would demand you to call me tonight to tell me how it goes, but honestly, I hope you’re way too occupied with his penis.” She laughs when I blush, then lets me go, calling over her shoulder as she walks off, “Don’t forget what I said about wowing him.”
I don’t reply to her; instead, I unlock my cell phone, then send an SOS to my sisters in our group chat, asking them for advice on what to wear out to dinner with Aiden tonight. Before I even have my stuff tucked away in the bottom drawer of my desk, they are messaging back one after another. All of them ask what the hell happened since the last time we spoke about him—the last time being when I told them about the incident outside my house.
With no time to explain things right now, I message back, letting them know I’ll call when I’m driving home after school but remind them of the reason I texted before I tuck my cell away for the rest of the day. Unlike me, my sisters never believed that Aiden was Mike, especially after talking to our cousins, who had spent time with him in Florida.
But they did think it was kismet that I met him in real life. So when I told them about him showing up at my house and me basically accusing him of playing games, they were all supportive of my decision but still doubtful I made the right choice.
“Ms. Mayson?” Sasha, a cute girl who reminds me of Nalia, calls when the final bell rings for the day, and I focus on where she’s seated with a group of students working on a history project.
“Yes.”
“Is it okay if we stay for fifteen more minutes to finish this up?”
“I’ll be here for another half an hour, so you guys have time,” I tell her, and she smiles at me while the boy next to her nudges her elbow with his. When she turns to look at him, he says something that I can’t hear, but I can see the adorable way she blushes under his gaze.
Dragging my attention off of them, I gather books that need to be put back in place and cart them down one of the first rows of books. But I stop halfway down the aisle and press my lips together when I see two kids I don’t recognize pressed up against the end of the bookcase, making out.
“Seriously, you guys?” I sigh, and the two of them jump away from each other so quickly that the boy ends up backing into the bookcase that is against the wall, hitting it with so much force that it wobbles, sending a few books tumbling to the ground.