Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
My phone buzzes between us before he can respond.
“Is this guy serious?” Holden asks, ignoring my question. “He’s texted you thirty-seven times, Valen. Thirty-seven.” He looks over at me, picking my phone up. “He seems super stable.”
“Ha-ha,” I deadpan. “Give me my phone.”
I see my phone light up in his hand again, and Holden’s eyes find the screen once more. His eyebrows shoot up in question, but he doesn’t look offended. If anything, he seems amused.
“What?” I ask, suspicion evident in my tone. He hands my phone back to me, showing me the text written on the screen.
If you fuck that piece of shit, I swear to God, we’re done, Valen.
“God, he’s an asshole,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Sorry,” I say awkwardly because I don’t know what else to say.
Holden huffs out a laugh, reaching for the bottle between us. “He’s jealous. Therefore, you’re winning.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “The fact that he was balls deep in another chick says he is most definitely winning.” Whatever that means.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Holden passes the bottle to me, and my pinky brushes against his hand when I wrap my fingers around the neck of it. “Are you jealous? Or are you pissed?”
I pause, the bottle lingering at my lips. The fact that he even asked me tells me he knows the answer. And that has me feeling a little unnerved.
“Both, I guess,” I lie with a shrug.
“Bullshit.” The accusation flies off his tongue without hesitation.
“I’ve seen jealous. I’ve seen heartbroken. I’ve seen vindictive. And right now? You’re none of those things. It’s actually kind of freaking me out,” he muses. “Which leads me to believe one of two things.” He pauses for dramatic effect, and I roll my eyes, waiting for him to continue.
“Enlighten me, oh wise one.”
“First possibility—this is the calm before the storm. Whether it’s shock or compartmentalizing, I don’t know. But the meltdown is yet to come. The second possibility, and what I’m leaning toward, just so we’re clear…you don’t love the dude. You’re just pissed and embarrassed.”
“He was my boyfriend,” I scoff. “That’s a bold assessment.”
“And yet, you still didn’t deny it.”
I go to take another drink, but Holden intercepts me.
“My turn,” he explains, bringing the bottle to his lips before taking a long pull.
I glare at him, annoyed that he’s psychoanalyzing me, and even more annoyed at the fact that he’s right.
“So which is it?” he presses me for an answer.
I shrug. Both? Neither? I don’t know how to explain my lack of emotional reaction to finding out my boyfriend was cheating on me. Maybe I just expected it, so it was only a question of when, not if. Maybe I’m just defective. “I’m bored of this topic,” I announce. “Let’s talk about something else. Or better yet, let’s not talk at all.”
Holden’s teeth scrape over his bottom lip as he eyes me intently. “Then what do you propose we do?”
“Not that.” I laugh. “We drink. In companionable silence.”
Holden almost seems offended by the suggestion, or maybe just highly uncomfortable with the notion of spending time with someone without the possibility of hooking up.
“Drinking I can do. The silent part? No promises.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Try hard.”
Holden mimics zipping his lips and throwing away an imaginary key. He won’t last more than thirty seconds, tops.
“I’ll take that,” I say, reaching over his lap to grab the bottle. “Can’t drink with your mouth sealed shut.”
Holden leans back, bracing himself on his elbows. When I glance up at him, my chest pressed against his lap and arm outstretched, I see that he’s giving me that look again.
“Perv,” I say, pulling myself back up.
He opens his mouth to argue, but I shake my head, stopping him with a look. “Ah-ah,” I tsk. “Silence, remember?”
To my surprise, he stays quiet long enough for me to take one final drink. I have to suck it up and go home eventually, and I probably shouldn’t be shit-faced when I do. The liquid settles in my stomach, making me feel all warm and fuzzy. I lean back, propping myself up on my palms. I let my head fall back a little, looking up at the ceiling for a second before closing my eyes. Between the alcohol and the humidity sticking to my skin like a warm blanket, I’m feeling blissfully buzzed and relaxed.
But the feeling doesn’t last long, because all of a sudden, Holden’s ripping off his shirt, then pushing to his feet. “Quiet time’s over,” he announces, shoving his jeans down his legs. He kicks his shoes off, along with his pants, leaving him in only a black pair of boxers. Before I can get a word out, he’s diving into the pool.
Holden swims toward me, his body barely visible in the glow of the dark blue water. Broad shoulders break through the surface as he comes up for air, and then he’s whipping his head up, purposely splashing me with his hair.