Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“It wouldn’t have mattered since I undressed you anyway.”
“Good point.” She traces her fingers up and down my chest. “I was going to and do my hair and makeup, but I was really into what I was writing and thought I’d have more time, and well…I’m kind of a procrastinator.”
“I remember.” I smile and kiss the top of her head. “You can blame it on being an artist now, right? Artists are allowed to be flakey.”
“Well, good,” she laughs. “Because I can be from time to time. Not flakey like you can’t depend on me, but flakey like I lose track of time really easily and forget about things.”
“I’ll remind you. I’m good at remembering things and have three alarms set in the morning because the thought of being late to work gives me anxiety.”
Chloe laughs again. “We’re a good fit then.”
“Yeah.” I tighten my hold on her. “We are.”
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“I don’t want to leave either…but we need to talk about it. We’re hours apart…you’re okay with that, right?” I ask, almost afraid of her answer. I finally got her back in my life—the right way. I’m not going to lose her again.
She lifts her head off my chest. “Yes, I’m okay with it. It will be hard, but very much worth it.”
“It will.” I run my fingers up and down her arm, feeling sleepy now myself. There’s no fooling ourselves: long-distance relationships suck. Starting a new one, long-distance sucks even more. But she’s right: it’s worth it. We’re both able to travel relatively easily, Chloe more so than me, but when I’m not at work I’ll happily take off to LA since there’s nothing in Chicago holding me back. “We’ll figure it out,” I promise her. “Nothing is going to keep us apart.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chloe
It was harder than I thought to say goodbye to Sam. He stayed the night on Monday, and we were together until he had to go back to his parents’ house to say bye to his family and get his things. I spent the rest of Tuesday writing, missing him already. We only have a few days until we see each other again, and the cold hard truth is we have to get used to this long-distance thing. It just sucks so fucking much. It took us how long to finally get together and now we’re still apart. It’ll take time to figure out what actually works for us, I know.
Today went by fast, at least. I ended up staying up until four-thirty in the morning writing after Sam left on Tuesday evening—and made a lot of progress with my book—and then slept in until eleven. I had lunch with Rory, and Dad and Wendy came back here and we ordered pizza and had a late dinner.
Sam didn’t get home until close to nine tonight, and he FaceTimed me as soon as he got to his apartment. We texted throughout the day, and we’ll talk again tomorrow. I’m in bed now, looking at flight information. I was going to stay here and go right to Chicago since it’s not that far, but I miss Spartan and I need a whole different type of wardrobe for a hot weekend with my boyfriend.
I fall back into bed, smiling like crazy.
I book my flight home for tomorrow afternoon. It doesn’t give me much time to be in LA, but I don’t need much time. I just need to do some laundry, visit my big guy, quickly repack for the weekend, and spend the rest of my time typing away. I didn’t finish my book this trip like I hoped, but my inspiration is back and the words are flowing.
I screenshot my flight info and text it to Sam. He told me he turns his phone to silent at night, and he tries to be in bed around ten when he has to get up early for work the next morning. We have very different schedules, and it will be interesting to see how it works—I’m getting ahead of myself.
It’s easy to, though, and I can’t help but think with absolute certainty things crashed and burned with every single other person I dated because Sam and I were meant to be together all along. I turn off the bedside lamp and plug my phone in, settling down in bed. The nighttime chorus of katydids and crickets fills the room, and I fall asleep with a smile on my face.
“Don’t freak out,” I say into the phone to Farisha. Dad just dropped me off at the airport, and after a bit of a tearful goodbye, I collected myself and got through security and to my terminal in record time.
“When you start a conversation with don’t freak out, I know you have freak-out-worthy information.”
“Oh, I do.” I angle my body away from the older lady who sat right next to me, even though there are plenty of open seats. “I slept with Sam.”