Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Another cringe crosses her face that her boyfriend, Archer – who prefers everyone who isn’t June to call him Cox – swoops in to erase. “You do look very extra nice, which is all my girlfriend is trying to say.”
“Thanks.” I politely smile. “And you two look really amazing too.”
“Thank you! It’s not every day I’m told to get dolled up for dancing!” Jaye squeals in excitement while her boyfriend merely grins on. “I don’t think I’m going to be very good, but Archer promised me we could at least try.”
“Yeah, that try was more about me than you, sweetheart,” he lightly chuckles split seconds ahead of my siblings rushing over to hug me next.
“Happy birthday, Juney!” Violet coos first as she throws her skintight black dress – that’s practically painted on – body against mine. “We’re so glad your boyfriend invited us!”
My mouth moves to correct the terminology when Ivy jumps in to hug me next. “Happy birthday, Juney!” She embraces slightly tighter than Violet. “I love Cuban food and music, and I'm so excited your boyfriend picked this place!” Her hot pink dress clad figure leans away to meet my gaze. “They have an amazing medianoche here!”
“Media what now?” I manage to croak out rather than the needed correction in regard to Tucker.
Which I will get around to in just a minute.
I mean I have to.
Sure, we’re roommates and finger and mouth bangmates, but we’re not a couple.
And everyone will know that in a sec.
If I can just get the right opening to announce it.
“Happy b-day, Juney!” Dakota giggles during our hugging. When she pulls back, her smile grows two sizes. “When your boyfriend said, get dressed up for dancing, I just knew what I had to put on! I’m so happy for any excuse to wear this dress again!”
Her senior year sequin, backless, floral homecoming dress – that I stand on the side of it showing too much side tit for a high schooler – looks even more amazing on her now than it did when we picked it out.
Maybe because I was overly focused on her safety in it before unlike now where I’m overly concerned about my boyfriend’s eyes on a younger, prettier version of me.
Er.
Not my boyfriend.
See what my sisters did!
They’ve got me thinking it too!
Once more, I move my lips to announce our non-existent relationship status, “Tucker isn’t-”
“I’m Tucker,” he swoops in, one hand sliding possessively around my waist while the other extends to my youngest sibling. “You must be Dakota.”
She giddily places her hand palm in his. “It’s sooooo Obi-Wan Koolnobi to finally meet you!”
After placing a chaste kiss on the back of her hand, he chuckles. “You too.”
“Agreed,” Ivy echoes as he delivers the same gesture to her. “Especially considering I didn’t even know Juney was dating anyone.”
Again…dating is a strong word, but can I really tell my little sisters we’re just exchanging orgasms for a couple months?
I mean that’s all this is, isn’t it?
Dating consists of dinners and movies and outings and deep meaningful conversations and…as I think about it…
Holy. Friedrich.
Are we fucking dating?!
“It’s really nice to meet her first boyfriend,” Violet rudely proclaims post the polite kiss to the back of her hand. “We always joked this day would never come.”
Ouch.
And also that day still hasn’t come.
“Glad it finally did,” Tucker sweetly states overriding the words that were about to leave my mouth. As if he can sense it, he tucks me tighter to him and extends his hand toward Archer. “Tucker.”
“Cox.” Their shared shake is strong. “And I would – respectfully – prefer it if you didn’t kiss my girlfriend’s hand.”
“Of course.” Tucker nods in understanding and gently exchanges a hand embrace with Jaye. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Jaye.” When his hand falls back to his side, he warmly announces, “I’ve heard so much about you.” He gestures a hand to the semi-circle. “All of you.”
“Well, we have not heard enough about you,” Ivy insists with a waggle of the eyebrows. “How about we sit down and get to changing that?!”
“Love it,” my date – or pretend boyfriend? – happily states and guides me over to the nearby table.
The seven of us squeeze together at the round table they were previously occupying while waiting for Tucker and mine’s arrival and are promptly greeted by our waitress, Maria, an old friend to the man who arranged the outing. Drink orders are given and conversations as well as interrogations immediately begin next. Tucker extends an arm around the back of my patio chair, maintaining his wordless claim that I somehow belong to him or us together or that we are indeed the couple I didn’t know we were, and answers all questions. Asks his own in return. Helps order and explain dishes to me, an action that’s aided by Ivy and Archer alike. Different appetizers arrive at various intervals and dance breaks are taken by all of my sisters which I repeatedly pass on joining in for. Part of me expects Tucker to watch them during those moments. To admire how they move and sway and are the men magnets that they are, yet every time they leave the table, he redirects his gazes to me. Hungrily stares at my tits. Steals tiny touches of my thigh in between shared laughs with my friend and her boyfriend.