Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
And then she whispered five little words: I know you’re Yours Cruelly.
I tried to play it cool, acting as though I had no idea what she was talking about. But her gaze held mine, and I fumbled over my words like some lovesick puppy, giving away my game.
She knew.
She knew everything.
She was onto me the entire time, all the while acting like I wasn’t even a blip on her radar.
That was when I realized that it didn’t matter if I went to MIT or somewhere on the other side of the world … I’d be in love with Stassi Hutton for the rest of my life.
They say karma’s a bitch, so it only makes sense that I’d slide into her DMs after all these years, only to be knocked back into place ten messages later.
DocMansfield: I can explain … if you let me.
SHutton07: No thanks.
DocMansfield: At least let me apologize.
SHutton07: What’s the point?
DocMansfield: Closure. You’re clearly still holding onto a lot of anger towards me. As a medical doctor, I can assure you that’ll do a number on your health.
SHutton07: Was that supposed to impress me?
DocMansfield: Impress you? Stassi, I simply care about your well-being. I took an oath. Do no harm.
SHutton07: I wouldn’t trust you with my medical care if my life depended on it. I’d bleed out in a rat-infested alley before I let you so much as stick a Band-Aid on me.
DocMansfield: Damn. Well … I deserved that. But I’d still like to apologize. How about one drink? Then you’ll never have to see me again (unless you want to).
SHutton07: I don’t know if there’s enough alcohol in the world for me to sit through a meeting with you. And what are you bothering me for anyway? Why don’t you bother my brothers?
DocMansfield: Unfortunately I didn’t match with either of them. But I did match with you, so … maybe that’s a sign?
SHutton07: I don’t believe in signs. Please do us both a favor and un-match me so we can both go about our ways and pretend like this never happened. Think we can agree it’s for the best.
I couldn’t disagree more.
SHutton07: Somewhere out there some vapid former cheerleader is waiting for a six-pack touting doctor to make her feel alive if only for one night. You’re wasting your time here. Go find yourself a good time girl, get your rocks off, and if you see me around town, we’re as good as strangers.
She’s got me there. Yes, originally, I’d been lonely, which was why I downloaded this app in the first place. Moving back to a place you spent your formative years in something no amount of prepping can prepare you for. It’s not like they write self-helps books on the subject. Doesn’t help that I never planned to come back in the first place. I’ve burned bridges and lost touch with all the people I used to run around with when I was younger.
Stassi’s right … I might as well be a stranger.
I’d been in town only a couple of days before I caved and went on the dating app to see what was available in the Sapphire Shores vicinity. I expected to see a handful of familiar faces.
But not hers.
The second I saw Stassi’s trademark megawatt grin and silky hair the color of sunlight, my appetite for a meaningless quickie went out the window—not that it matters; with the way this conversation is going, I’m pretty sure sex of any kind is off the table.
Before I can respond, she messages again.
SHutton07: Screw it. One drink. At 8:30. Houlihan’s. And your apology better be good.
For a second, I wonder if that’s her friend writing for her again.
But then I realize I don’t even care.
We officially have a date.
DocMansfield: Deal.
3
Stassi
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I’m sitting in the back of the Uber I called, Houlihan’s on one side of me, the Portland harbor on the other, glistening in the moonlight. It’s so frigid that the exhaust from the car makes a hazy cloud around me. My palms are on fire and my heart is beating so hard it’s practically crawling up my throat.
Like a moron, I dressed up. I’m wearing a sweater dress that I only wear when I want to impress people. As if I care about this person.
Which I don’t.
I stopped caring about Alec Mansfield a long time ago.
I made peace with his cruel ploys to get my attention.
I close Charlotte’s Web, slip it into my purse, and exhale in an attempt to compose myself before I tackle this giant.
The driver, likely a local college student considering the nose ring and the just-got-out-of-bed look, glances in her rearview mirror. “You did say Houlihan’s, right?”
“Yeah …” Somehow, our old haunt looks way more intimating than it did, even just last night. “Just trying to get the courage to go inside.”