Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
I need to tell her, I know.
After this weekend.
"Of course, it's a last hurrah." My brother Damon steps into the house and pushes his sunglasses from his nose. With that trademarked Webb charm, he says, "It's a bachelor party."
"Is that how you see marriage?" Cassie asks.
He shoots her an I know better than that look. "Since when do you care about marriage?"
Usually, I let them banter, but today, I want to play the game with them. "Oh. Are you writing an album about marriage?"
Cassie stammers. "I-I care about things besides my current song—"
"Oh my god, you are." Damon bursts with a belly laugh. "For who?"
"I signed an NDA," she says.
He shoots her a wicked smile. "So I have to torture it out of you."
Too much information. My nose scrunches in distaste. New subject. "Don't you two have a deadline this weekend?"
"Monday, yeah." My brother notices my discomfort and shrugs that's love. "We'll have to hole up after the party."
"But we'll still hang out. I promise." Cassie mouths her own I'm sorry and mimes zipping her lips. It's our gesture. An old one, from after we traded secrets. It feels like old times. It feels like home.
These people are my home. My best friend and my brother. It's weird now that they're together, but that doesn't change the facts. I love them more than I love anyone else on the planet.
Even if they say too much about their sex lives.
Even if they can't shut up about music.
Even if they hate me for moving across the country.
"Come on, Cass. There's only enough coffee for two." I take my best friend's hand and lead her to the kitchen.
Damon takes the hint. He stays in the foyer, waiting for Jackson.
Cass settles at the counter and steals a sip from my lukewarm mug. "Is everything okay?" There's honest concern in her green eyes.
She looks like the Cass I know well. Like the best friend who's been by my side my entire life. Same green eyes, same light brown hair, same sharp nose. Really, she looks a lot like Jackson. The feminine version of him.
Only with a blunt bob, winged eyeliner, an ever-present band shirt, denim shorts, and high-tops. The feminine, rock star poet version of Jackson.
Maybe that explains my attraction. An attempt to stay close to my best friend. It's not because Jackson is handsome and bossy and sexy as fuck. It's some other twisted thing.
"Daph?" Concern drops into Cassie's voice.
"You and Damon are happy," I say.
"Yes." She looks at me funny, like she doesn't know how to respond to the comment.
It's a weird comment. It's a weird thing to consider. My brother is happy. He doesn't need constant monitoring. I have to let go of my concern.
I am moving across the country, after all.
I can't watch him from New York.
"I'm happy about that," I say. "That's it." I have other feelings too.
But she doesn't call me on that. Or she doesn't know. I'm not sure really. "Me too." She brushes a stray hair behind her ear. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"No. I'm lacking in macadamia milk iced lattes," I say.
She smiles.
"And I wanted to remind you about our marathon." We watch sci-fi shows every Sunday night. "Just 'cause we're in Vegas—"
"Way ahead of you. I cleared the time with Damon."
"So you two will be working nonstop between the party and the marathon?"
"It's possible." She pulls me into another hug. "Come on. Let's get that coffee, huh?"
I nod. That's it. All I need. Coffee. Not a way out of a confession. Or a way to stop wanting my best friend's brother.
Coffee.
Just coffee.
After we load the car, we stop at Cassie's favorite Malibu Hills coffee shop, we pile into the car, and we take PCH to the ten.
The city blurs into the blue sky. I rest my head on the window and watch clouds roll by. There are too many things in my head. Uncomfortable things.
Better to think about a fun topic.
Sex.
We're in Mom's mini-van, the one she swore she'd never buy (well, the replacement for the one she swore she'd never buy). She and Damon traded cars for the week.
She's excited to take his luxury sedan to work. No doubt he's excited to drive this vehicle out to the desert, lay the back seat flat, and have sex under the stars.
Oh my god—
Have my parents done that?
Gross.
My eyes go to my best friend. She's sitting next to me. Damon offered Jackson shotgun, and he accepted. Which is odd. The two of them are friendlier than they were, but they're not really friends.
Does Jackson have a lot of friends?
He's kinda prickly.
And he works more than I do.
When did he have time for a girlfriend?
It's hard to imagine him getting dumped, but it's hard to imagine him ending things either. Really, it's hard to imagine the guy in love. He has all the traits of a perfect husband except for that one.