Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I glare at her, but she continues like she’s ticking off a list in her head that she’s been waiting years to recite. “Then there was the time Mom and Dad let you babysit, but instead of watching me you rode your bike to Jonathan Steger’s house and left me alone. You got your ass chewed out because when they got home, I had cut up Mom’s antique quilt and made a bunch of Barbie clothes with it.”
They were no-sew Barbie ponchos to be exact, but who’s keeping track…
“You were ten. That was not my fault,” I dispute through gritted teeth.
“But my point is, you were supposed to be watching me.” Molly flips a page over in her Cosmo magazine and leisurely glances down. “Do you see what I’m getting at here? You do shit without thinking of the consequences, then blame someone else.”
“I’m still not sure I see your point.”
“That’s because you’re a Neanderthal. Look Matthew, if you - No, don’t look out the window, look at me. My face! Matthew! Ugh, I swear…”
“Okay, okay…”
“Correct me if I’m wrong: you like Cece, but you treated her like shit. She goes out with someone else, you get mad. Do I have the general gist?”
I mumble under my breath.
“She’s not a game to win, Matthew. You can’t treat her like a competition and then when you win, forget the trophy because the thrill of the chase is gone.”
“Even though that is a terrible analogy, it’s not like that. At all.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s like I told you at Mom and Dad’s house… when I was angrily rambling off all that stupid shit about blow jobs and sucking my, um….”
“Weiner?”
“Oh my god.”
“Weiner is pretty tame compared to the words I heard you were throwing out at Cecelia. Cock. Dick. Suck…” Her face remains perfectly impassive as she recites all the vulgar synonyms a guy could use for his… package - like she says them every day.
“…This is not happening right now.”
“Would you grow up? Keep talking or I’m not going to stop.” Molly looks at me and waves her hand around in a circle as if to say move it along, buddy.
“I didn’t mean any of it. It was literally some of the dumbest shit that’s ever come out of my mouth.”
“And we all know you’ve said some really stupid shit.”
“Shut up.” I grin. “But yeah, basically. First it was just playing off of words, then I just…” I stuck my finger inside my mouth, making an exaggerated puking sound. “Word vomit.”
Molly wrinkles her nose, disgusted. “Gross. Go wash your hands.” Then, “If you like her so much, maybe you should say you’re sorry for talking out of your ass.”
“Fuck that. I am not saying sorry.”
She levels me with a stare: seriously Matthew?
“Fine. I guess I’ll think about it…”
“Good boy.”
“Molls. I… I don’t just like her. I like her, like her.”
She rolls her eyes at me, then mutters, “Ugh, guys really do mature years behind females… Look. I know at Mom and Dad’s house you said you wanted to make it work with her, but you cannot be mad she has a date.”
“Yes I can.”
Molly throws her head back to laugh, then lifts her magazine, studying one of the pages. Without looking up she says, “Then maybe you should have staked your claim a little sooner.”
CHAPTER 28
CECELIA
“You want me to list the benefits of dating Neve? Well duh, you’d be dating Neve. I rest my case.”
– Jenna
Shortly after my hand pulls open the gold hardware handle adorning the front door of Un Petit Goût (yes, the scene of my first date with Neve) I’m being escorted by the Maitre’d towards the small round table where he sits, waiting,
He stands as I approach, a big smile spreading across his gorgeous face. Dressed in a baby blue, long sleeve button down shirt and dark wash jeans, he looks strikingly handsome under the dim lights and candlelight in the restaurant.
Attractive, strong, masculine – all wrapped into one delectable package – and mine for the taking.
I wait for the flutters in my stomach to appear, and when they don’t, I kick back the disappointment, stifling the feeling with the heel of my black patent leather wedges.
Um… metaphorically speaking, of course.
Confidently I stride forward in my second outfit of the evening, which I must admit, is one hundred percent better than the first travesty (see: Train Wreck) and as Neve leans in to kiss my cheek in greeting I silently thank my lucky stars I put up a stink and insisted on changing.
Instead of the microscopic mini-skirt, I traded up for a pair of black high-waisted shorts and sheer black tights. The shorts are amazing and have two rows of petite silver buttons lining the pockets – they also make my legs go on for miles. A plain, crisp, cap sleeve white tee shirt is tucked snuggly into the shorts and is set off by a spray tan and bright pink statement necklace hanging in the scoop neck.