Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
I thought I’d be able to have a one-on-one talk with Beckett this week too. Hash out some things. But I don’t want to be under a microscope while I’m doing it. So I gotta save it for another date.
Same with me patching things up with Luna’s mom.
Now it’s late. First night at the lake house, and I’ve been relegated to the kiddie room with Tom, Eliot, and Luna. Heard the girl squad digs were better and bigger. These bunk beds are short, and in the corner, a finger-painted bookshelf looks like a summer craft project from years ago. Kindergarten stories about caterpillars blooming into butterflies are shelved. We’re four grown adults coming home for Christmas to a childhood artifact.
Only it’s not my childhood.
It’s theirs, and I’m loving seeing what Luna’s life probably looked like when she was younger and how happy it must’ve been. I’d want nothing less for her. It soothes the good ole soul to know.
The four of us haven’t crashed yet.
Eliot and Tom sit on a top bunk, passing a bottle of red wine back and forth. Their legs dangle off the edge, and across from them, Luna and I are doing the same, only I have my arm around her shoulder and we aren’t drinking wine.
Tom brought a stash of mini liquor bottles in a plastic bag and tossed them to us. I’ve unscrewed the whiskey while Luna has been sipping on vodka. They’ve been reminiscing about their middle school years, and I’ve been listening and drinking.
I’m forcing myself not to pull one of her legs over my lap. The urge is riding me hard, honestly. She’s wearing knee-high candy cane socks, and a thin, silky black nightgown with spaghetti straps. Her nipples are perked against the fabric, and I want to run my hands up and down her body.
Typically, I’d just draw her leg over me. But those aren’t just her best friends. They’re her cousins. Don’t know if it’d be uncomfortable for her.
“What’s the weight capacity on that thing?” Tom asks me, and I snap my gaze off my girlfriend.
Earlier, I heaved Orion up on the top bunk. The dog wanted up, and granted, he could put his paws on the mattress just standing on his hind legs. Probably could’ve done a doggie pull-up, but I assisted.
Now the big furry Newfie is lying next to me, panting up a storm like he was the one who heaved his hundred-plus pounds up here.
I pat his side. He’s a good boy. “Are you calling her son fat?” I joke.
Luna smiles into a sip of vodka.
Tom picks up his guitar, and his wrist is wrapped in an ACE bandage. “Nothing against Orion, but he is fucking huge, dude. And it wouldn’t be the first time you two crashed down…” He cuts himself off, his eyes pinging to Luna in worry.
“What?” She frowns at me. “We crashed through something?”
“Yeah…an attic,” I tell her. “Not the attic of anyone you know. It was on Halloween. Your dad’s fiftieth birthday.” If she wants more details, I’d tell her.
But all she says is, “Oh.” Her brows scrunch. She can’t remember it. With my arm hanging over her shoulders, I rub the skin near her bicep.
Tom smears a hand down his face, beating himself up over surfacing a memory she lost. “Sorry.”
Eliot passes him the wine.
Luna collects herself alright, sitting more upright and shrugging. “It’s okay. It’s not like OG Luna had this moment. I have less, maybe, but I’m slowly getting more.”
I smile down at her. “You gonna tattoo that on me?”
“Tomorrow,” she nods.
“Oof, your dad is gonna love that,” I grin and throw back another gulp. Whiskey slides smoothly down my throat. Tom bought the good stuff. And I’m not concerned about any weight limits for the bunk. If I thought we’d crack the bed, I wouldn’t have lugged her dog up here. Eliot probably weighs the same as Luna and Orion put together.
“Did Luna tell you that I have dibs on naming her firstborn?” Eliot asks, and I’m grateful it wasn’t during a swig of whiskey—‘cause I would’ve choked on it.
“Yeah?” I look to her.
She chugs the mini bottle of vodka, and my concern falls deeper on her. She wets her lips, then slowly screws the cap on the empty bottle.
“It was a bet,” Eliot clarifies.
Tom strums his guitar, glancing between us, and I can sense his confusion to her reaction. But it’s not all too jumbled for me.
Luna and I haven’t had these big talks about the future. It’s not something I really wanna do with an audience.
“A recent bet,” Luna explains softly. “We both picked horses in the race for CEO. Eliot bet on himself.”
“Toujours,” Eliot says. Been around the Cobalts enough to know it means always.
“So if Eliot wins, then I agreed to let him name my firstborn. But if Charlie is chosen, then I get to name Eliot’s child.”