Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“Did you kick him?” I ask.
“No but I did push him against a locker once and tell him nobody was ever going to love him if he didn’t use his words.”
“Harsh.”
“He’s gay now.” She nods. “And probably happier without me let’s be honest. Sometimes I stalk his Instagram.”
I cough into my hand. “Shocker.”
Not that it’s a bad thing he’s gay just that I’m staring at a woman who quite literally might send others into other options.
“Oh, please. I didn’t make him gay because I traumatized him over women.” She rolls her eyes. “You would assume something like that, he just preferred P over V.”
“If you say so.” I grin, I know she’s seconds away from arguing with me over something ridiculous again. At least we’ve moved past the burrito. God, how embarrassing, at least it attacked her too.
How would we ever able to have sex after that?
Not that I’m thinking about sex.
Not that my dick is rubbing extra hard against my jeans ever since touching her hand like I really am back in middle school fawning over her.
“So,” Dustin interrupts. “What’s the story? You broke his heart?”
“He left,” Scarlett says. “And back then there was this thing called AOL chat, I know, I know we’re old.” She saves off Dustin. “Anyway, I was heartbroken that he had to go back home, but he said he’d message me.”
“I lost it,” I finally say. “I lost the piece of paper with your handle on it, but I searched like crazy through all my stuff. Not that it matters because you had my handle and could have reached out too.”
Dustin shifts uncomfortably between us and then reaches for the bourbon and a crystal glass. “Riveting, so you’re saying you broke each other’s hearts at fourteen and you fight over food now. Why don’t you just thank the universe for meeting again, get drunk, go to your hotel room, and get rid of all the sexual tension? Gotta say, it’s really uncomfortable in here right now.” He tugs at his collar again and forgets to pour the bourbon in the glass, just drinks it straight from the bottle.
“Ah, you make men gay, and I make them alcoholics.” I snatch the empty glass from Dustin and hold it out. “Cheers.”
She frowns then reaches for her own glass. “If you get bourbon, I get bourbon.”
“Sweetheart…” I purposely lower my voice to annoy her. “I’m not sure you can handle my bourbon.”
Dustin chokes on his next sip and keeps on choking, pounding his chest while he’s at it. Who thought it was a good idea to bring him again?
Scarlett slides her hand across my thigh and grips it, her fingers are dangerously close to my dick. “Wanna bet?”
I lean forward. “I bet you’d choke.”
Her nostrils flare, damn she’s pretty when she’s pissed.
And I’m so turned on I’m ready to put headphones on Dustin and ask her just how far she’s willing to go to prove a point.
Her tongue sneaks out and licks her lower lip, and you know it was completely on purpose to draw my attention to her mouth again and think about how nice it would be to taste.
Dustin interrupts our little moment and pours her two fingers of the bourbon. She swallows like a champ.
I’m not okay.
I lean forward.
Dustin moves between us.
I imagine kicking him in the dick when Scarlett’s phone suddenly goes off. Who the hell doesn’t have their phone on silent these days?
She cutely, or damn it, not cutely puts her glass down between her feet; her white Converses hold it in place while she answers.
It goes right into FaceTime.
“Adrian!” Okay, but did she need to yell his name like he was giving her an orgasm through the phone while saving the world and holding Captain America’s shield? Give me a fucking break! He’s a priest! PRIEST! Am I going to hell for cursing and saying priest in the same sentence? I mean technically a priest would be worthy. Why am I putting him on the Avengers right now over one phone call? I glance over at Dustin, but he’s riveted on the conversation going on and the way Scarlett keeps laughing into the phone.
She laughs easily with him.
And yet she mocks me with that same laugh when she’s with me.
How did we go from wedding rescue to this?
I sulk, lean back against the seat and hold my glass out to Dustin, he shakily pours it to the rim on accident. Whatever. I drink it. Slowly.
And then suddenly it’s gone, and I’m really feeling it. I haven’t drunk in forever, I try not to make a habit out of it when I’m on tour and writing.
Scarlett laughs again. “Okay, well as long as you make it in time for the bridal brunch.” She rolls her eyes. “Wear board shorts and I’ll murder you.”