Want You Read Online Jen Frederick

Categories Genre: Dark, Erotic, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Jen Frederick Advertisement1

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Pulling her wrist close, I read aloud, “Liz is graduating early and has never been within spitting distance of a boy. We should rectify that.”

“Oh no. That’s not—” Audie twists out of my grip, but not before I snatch the device free of her grip.

I read Rachel’s response. "What's the point? Liz isn’t the type guys want to—eggplant emoji—on site. She's more good personality know what I mean?” I look up at Audie who’s grimacing. “She used the eggplant emoji unironically and misspelled sight. I’m supposed to trust her taste in men? Also, is she calling me ugly?”

Audie snatches the phone back. "You're not supposed to read the messages," she chides, "and no, she's not calling you ugly."

I reach up and touch my wild, crinkly hair. I've a smattering of dark freckles across the bridge of my nose and along my upper cheeks. My nose flares at the bottom more than I’d like, but I tell myself that at least I don’t have breathing problems like Kira who had to have surgery on her deviated septum. I touch my finger to the tip. I know I’m not the type of girl who’s ever going to blow up on social media for my face or body. Guys aren’t going to drop their bags and rush over to open the door like I’ve seen them do for Jeanette, but none of that really matters because I’m going to marry Leka.

A sense of anxiety stirs in my stomach. On the beauty scale, Leka and I are on the opposite ends. He does get random strangers flustered. Women are always straightening their clothes, sticking their chests out and fluffing their hair when he’s around. It was annoying as hell when I was younger.

His looks haven’t faded as he’s gotten older. His body, as far as I can tell from the few video chats we’ve had, is just as fine as it’s always been. His hair has darkened from blond to a chestnut gold, and his eyes are still a piercing blue. I’ve no doubt that there are women left panting everywhere he goes, but he’s never noticed in the past. Why would that change? Why would it change just because I’m here in Vermont and he’s hundreds of miles away?

"You're not ugly," Audie says, interrupting the dangerous thoughts. She pulls my hand down to my side. "Can we focus on what's important here?”

“Yes, I’d like that.” I grab her and pull her in for a hug. “The important thing is that we’re going to stay in touch.”

Audie sags against me, finally giving in. "I'm going to miss you,” she sniffles.

"I'm moving back home, not dying," I tease gently.

"I know, but I'm a crier. You know this."

I do. Audie cries during commercials. During the Olympics, we had to skip all the human interest segments because Audie kept breaking down. I think we went through five boxes of tissues during that week. I make a mental note to see if the tampon subscription box could throw in a few tissue packs.

"I know, but you're going to be okay."

"Don't let him walk all over you."

"I won't."

"Tell him if he hurts you, I'll come and kick his ass."

"I will."

We hug for a few more moments until Audie pushes me away from her. "Go on," she says through her tears. "Or you're going to hit Springfield right during rush hour."

"I love you," I tell her. "I'll text you when I arrive home."

I give her a cheery wave, hop into my car, drive five miles and then pull over to let the tears come.

I couldn't let anyone know, but I'm scared. I'm scared of leaving Boone, which has been my safe place for four years. I'm scared of the rejection I might face from Leka. I'm scared of my future, but I couldn't stay in Boone forever.

My future is with Leka. I just have to convince him of that.

I pull out my phone and send him a message.

I'm coming home.

I wipe my tears, put my car in gear, and head south.

* * *

Worn out and hungry, I pull up in front of the apartment building around three. An unfamiliar doorman comes over and peers through my passenger window, gesturing for me to open it.

I push the button and once his face is clear of the glass, he says, "You can't park here. This is a private residence."

"I know. I live here with Leka Moore. I'm his…" I trail off, not sure of what to call myself. I don't want to say sister because when the doorman sees us holding hands or kissing, I don't want him to call the cops. And I will be holding Leka's hand and kissing him in public. That's what couples do. But we're not a couple yet, so I can't exactly call myself his girlfriend. "I live here with Leka," I finally say.


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