Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“God Jamie, that must have sucked. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, it totally sucked. I mean, I know the only reason they’re so upset is because they care about me. But still.”
“Did they try to forbid you to see Dmitri?” Jess asked as she dumped soy creamer into her coffee.
“Oh yeah. As if I’d be like, ‘ok, whatever you say.’ I mean, Christ, I’m twenty three years old! They don’t actually get to tell me what to do anymore.”
“Did you see him last night?”
I grinned broadly, a donut raised partway to my mouth. “I did. He knew I’d need cheering up, so he cooked me a big, carby pasta dinner. And he’d stocked his freezer with every flavor of Ben and Jerry’s for me – literally all of them. We ate ourselves silly, and then we curled up in bed and watched Lord of the Rings. He tried to convince me he speaks Elvish. Thank God he was kidding.”
Jess raised an eyebrow at me. “Wow. I sincerely apologize. If I was this much of a lovesick dork when I first got together with Fernando, then I must have been truly insufferable.”
“You’re still a lovesick dork, Jess, and it’s been years,” I pointed out.
“Ok, maybe. But you’re taking lovesickness to a whole new level, my friend.” She shot me a look then and asked, “So, did he do anything else to cheer you up? Or did you have a strictly G-rated night?”
I grinned and said, “We messed around a bit. But we didn’t have sex again, if that’s what you’re subtly asking.”
“No?”
“He knew I was kind of fragile last night after my family put me through an emotional meat grinder. I could tell he was holding off until I was on a little more of an even keel.”
“It’s good that he’s taking care of you.”
“You like Dmitri, don’t you? Despite yourself.”
She took a sip of coffee, then admitted, “Yeah. And wow, did I not want to. I still don’t trust him. But it’s kind of hard not to like him, especially after seeing the two of you together.”
“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?’
“Well, yeah. But what matters is that he really cares about you. It’s totally obvious.”
“So, spill. What did he whisper to you that brought you down from DEFCON One yesterday?”
“He didn’t tell you?” she asked.
“Nope. He said it was a secret.”
“So why do you think I’d tell you?”
I shot her a huge smile. “Because you love me.”
Jess rolled her eyes at me. “Don’t think you can sweet-talk me into telling you, especially if he won’t.” Then she said, “So where are those clothes you bought? And did you save the receipts like I told you to?”
“You’re usually smoother at changing the subject,” I said as I trailed after her into the living room, a donut in one hand and my coffee in the other.
“I really am dying to see what you bought. And these bags better not be full of cargo shorts.” She shot me a look. “Have you ever asked yourself why you wear cargo shorts, by the way? Are you actually assuming that at some point, you’ll need those giant, unflattering pockets to literally carry cargo around with you?”
“No shorts, promise. Here, look.” I set my coffee down and started to reach for one of the bags.
Jess lightly smacked my hand away and said, “Back off, powdered sugar fingers.” She reached for the bag herself and dumped the contents onto the couch, and then said, “Ok. Cautiously optimistic.”
“I did good. Admit it.”
“Maybe.” She dumped out the rest of the bags and started to put outfits together, draping them over every available surface in my living room. Then she stood back and assessed what I’d purchased, and smiled as she said, “Why Jamie, you finally own a pair of big boy pants.”
I laughed at that and finished licking the sugar off my fingers. “Well, you’ve seen Dmitri. He looks that pulled together all the time. I didn’t want to look like his pool boy. Though let’s face it, I’m still not exactly in his league. I mean, even his t-shirts are designer.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. This is awesome.”
“Wow, you’re actually saying nice things about my wardrobe. Alert the media!”
“You’ve put up with my fashion critiques since we were five, and you finally listened. You deserve some praise.”
“Not to burst your bubble,” I said, “but everything you’ve ever said about clothes sounded to me like the adults talking in a Charlie Brown cartoon – wah wa wa wahhh. This is all Justin’s doing.”
“Who’s Justin?”
“The highly enthusiastic sales dude at Stonestown Galleria.”
“Remind me to send him a gift basket,” Jess said, checking the care label on a white polo shirt. “I still can’t believe you willingly went to a mall. I would have paid to see that.”
“That’s why it was the perfect hideout from my family. No one would ever in a million years look for me there.”