Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“It’s been a long time since I really liked anyone.”
The impact of that statement settles between us. He knows it’s the same for me. We’ve been friends for more than fifteen years and witnessed each other's relationship failures.
“What am I supposed to do, Stefan?” I ask. “It doesn’t matter how much I try to come up with a strategy to fix this, I just can’t.”
“What are you trying to fix?”
“Allie’s life.”
He nods, and taps his fingers on the steering wheel, out of time to the music but maybe in time to his own thoughts. “What about your life?”
“I don’t give a shit what they write about me. I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks of me. The only thing I care about is Allie and making sure she’s okay…not just now, but in the future too.”
Stefan continues drumming against the steering wheel. In the darkness, his profile is set with concentration as he stares at the road that stretches darkly before us. Stefan glances behind at the truck that’s following. Theron and Russell must be talking about this situation too, although I’m sure their comments are less measured than my friend’s.
“We need to fix this,” he says eventually. “I don’t know how we’re going to do it, but I’m with you all the way, okay?”
And even though we’re no closer to working out what to do next and how to help Allie, knowing Stefan’s going to have my back takes me one step closer to believing we might have a chance to make it right.
“It’s going to sound ridiculous,” my friend adds. “But I didn’t want this week to end.”
It should sound ridiculous. Two fully grown men on the wrong side of forty, confessing to relishing a life that was more frat house than beach house.
“I’m an only child.” He clears his throat and I know he’s thinking about his parents, who both died in the past five years. “I thought I was used to living alone, but it turns out I like company more than I thought.”
“Me too,” I agree.
“And I like Allie.” He folds his lips between his teeth and shakes his head. “It’s more than that. I have feelings for Allie that I don’t want to walk away from.”
I don’t tell him that I do too because it feels too futile to even go there.
Instead, I stare out of the window and remember the past few days when all of the stresses of my life were reduced to nothing by one sweet girl and nine men who’ve become my unlikely friends.
39
ALLIE
“I’m coming home,” Dawn says.
No hello. No questions about how I’ve gotten myself into this mess. My friend is ride or die. She’d fly for a day and spend a fortune on a plane ticket to be my emotional support. Those three words make me cry all over again.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I blow my nose and take a sip of water.
“You sound like shit.”
I know Dawn’s right. My voice is ragged, as though I’ve spent a whole evening yelling over loud music at a club with laryngitis, and my nose is swollen from the effect of all the sobbing.
I don’t ask how Dawn knows about the drama that’s currently swallowing my life like a giant whale. Maybe someone sent her the images, or maybe she found them by herself. Neither is good.
“Well, you know there are no judgments from me,” she says. “Not that it matters that much, I guess. If those men were treating you good, then more power to you.”
“My life is over.” I repeat the mantra that’s been running inside my head on a loop, but rather than commiserating with me, Dawn scoffs with disgust.
“Your life isn’t over, Allie. So, you had some sex. So, it looked phenomenal. So the fuck what!”
“My name is going to be linked to this forever.”
“See, this is why I hate the double standard so much. I guarantee not one of those men is thinking about their names being ruined because of what they did. They’re probably getting phone calls from their buddies, asking for all the juicy details.”
“Probably,” I agree miserably.
“Is it too soon to ask for the juicy details?” There’s a smile in Dawn’s voice that softens my distress just a little.
“You don’t need to ask,” I say. “You get to live it every day.”
“That good, huh?”
“Yes. It really was that good. But not good enough to ruin my life over.”
In the background, I hear the murmur of men’s voices, which I guess is understandable when she lives with nine. Does my friend ever get a moment to herself? Probably not, and maybe that’s the way she likes it. As I stare around at the emptiness of my tiny apartment for one, I long for the companionship I shared over the past few days. The single life isn’t for me. I guess that realization is the only positive to come out of this catastrophe. That and the knowledge that good sex isn’t something I’ll only get to read about or watch in movies.