Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
I became fascinated by the expression twisting Chrissie’s face into several different directions at the same time. I sipped from my glass, let the crisp wine linger to allow my tongue to pick up the delicious hints of raspberry and cherry, and then I almost choked on it when Chrissie blurted, “Oh, come the fuck on!”
Giggling, I asked, “What’s your problem now?”
“They are!” Wine glass in hand, she shoved it forward, indicating the TV screen. “She’s just slept with him.”
And? I could definitely feel the effects of too many glasses of the good stuff myself. Clearly, they’d affected my friend, too. “And that’s…hurt you somehow?”
“No, obviously didn’t hurt her, either. Pisses me off. It’s always so perfect on the telly. So soft and romantic, slips in and out so easily first time.”
I snorted so hard the remnants of rosé in my throat burned my nose. “Wow. I must’ve missed that part.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s implied. Now look at her, all happy and glowing while he’s lying there whispering beautiful things to her. He’s, what, seventeen? In my world at seventeen, he missed the goalpost twice, stabbed my leg with it, came after three thrusts then headed to the toilet to text his mates about it. This film is a giant lie.”
Laughing, I put down my glass and flopped my head back on the cushions. “Maybe you should put yours down, too,” I suggested, my grin still wide and aching. “Alcohol is giving you some serious irrational rage issues tonight. If it makes you feel better, I’ll log onto Amazon later and leave a one-star review.”
“Gimme your password. I’ll give it the justice it deserves.”
Vision a tad hazy, I closed my eyes for a moment. My first time wasn’t too dissimilar from the movie, though I didn’t dare mention that to Chrissie for fear she’d have punched me in the face. Shit. Now my mind had fallen back to Hugo, who wasn’t only my best friend, but the boy I’d given my virginity to. It wasn’t quite like the movie. We weren’t madly in love, openly at least, and the whole episode was filled with clumsy errors and fits of giggles…but he stayed afterwards, just like the obvious twenty-something beefcake playing the high school kid in the movie.
He’d stared at me, inches away with those blue eyes I would never forget. I’d stared at him right back. He’d told me how good it’d felt and how pretty I was, and that we’d always be best friends…because that’s all we were – friends. Friends who didn’t socialise with anyone else, never experienced high school romances or college hook-ups, so, being eighteen and curious, we decided to experience it with each other. We did everything else together, what could go wrong? We’d been too close for too long for anything to come between our friendship. That was our theory.
That theory turned out to be bullshit.
Something on my face startled my eyes open. “What’s wrong?” Chrissie was practically a nose away from me, wiping the tear I hadn’t felt escape from my cheek.
I blew out a breath, blinked a few times and, dispirited, closed my eyes once more. “I had a friend once…” I said, brave from the effects of alcohol.
“You still do,” Chrissie said when I didn’t elaborate. I hadn’t stopped talking on purpose. I’d simply slipped into a rosé-induced haze.
“Not like him. We were inseparable since being four years old. We grew together, learned together. He helped me ride my first bike, I taught him to swim. We shared everything. I’ve never known or loved anybody as much. I miss him, Chris. It’s been years and I still really fucking miss him.”
I felt arms wrap around me and a head of hair nestle under my chin. “Ah, shit, I’m so sorry, mate. That’s tragic. What did he die of? So young. Jesus.”
My eyes sprung open. “Oh, he’s not dead. He just…left town.” It hit me, then, that I’d sounded quite dramatic. However, the reality was Hugo might as well have been dead, because with stardom he’d become inaccessible. He belonged to the world now, to the music business and money machines. We lived on the same planet but in completely different worlds. In the beginning, he’d call every day, send me photos from his travels so we could share every new experience, every new city, new food, and then he just…stopped.
Chrissie backed off me, brow furrowed. “Did you fight?”
“No,” I said, never moving. I imagined I looked like a talking corpse. My veins buzzed from the wine, muscles relaxed. I simply sat there, half sprawled, head flopped to one side. Expressionless.
We hadn’t fought, though I wished we had sometimes. I often thought it would’ve been easier that way, that I’d know who to blame. The reality is we’d both broken our promises. Hugo had stopped calling...but I hadn’t gone with him.