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)
Charlie becoming CEO is most likely, we both know. It’s a good bet. I could see her getting wrapped up in the moment with her friends and agree to one with those terms. I would’ve done it too.
I nod to Eliot. “What are your name options? Anything good?”
“I’m still brainstorming. Vegetables are on the table,” Eliot says, leaning back on a hand. He’s only in navy drawstring pants and a white tee. The heat is cranked up so high that I ditched my shirt a half hour ago.
“I kinda like it,” Luna tells me, and I try not to glance at the hem of her nightgown, which teases at her thighs…her fine-line ink disappears up into the fabric. I want to trail her galaxy tattoo with my fucking tongue right now.
“Cabbage patch babies are dope,” I say into a swig.
“Yep. And then there’s pumpkin babies. Northern baby beans.”
“Baby broccoli.”
“Little baby bro,” Luna sing-songs.
We all laugh.
She is my kind of girl. She always has been.
Eliot tips the bottle of wine to his lips, then leans forward, motioning to me. “Are you afraid I might be in charge of naming your firstborn?”
He’s assuming Luna’s babies will be my babies. Good assumption, considering we’re together, and I like that he’s projecting me into her future.
But my muscles contract, and Luna feels me tense. She’s digging in the plastic bag for another mini bottle of vodka. I keep my arm around her.
“Nah,” I say casually. “Not concerned about it.” Because I don’t want kids. I’d add it, but again, this is a talk I need to have with Luna before I tell the class, so to speak.
Tom plays a catchy melody on the guitar. “Do you plan for the future or do you not look that far ahead?”
I’m watching Luna twist off the new cap. “I’ve got goals.”
She looks up at me, and I can see her asking, I’m in them, right?
I never want her to question what she means to me. “This girl’s in the best ones.” I grin down at her.
Her smile reemerges, and I could last all night looking at it. Looking at her.
Eliot mimes holding out a microphone. “Paul Donnelly, where do you see yourself in five to ten years?”
Tom mimes stealing the microphone. “And has Eliot Alice broken his three-date maximum? Because it’s depressing.”
Eliot leans into the fake mic. “I think Tom is referring to his own unrequited crushes.”
“Oh my God, dude,” he groans. “One day I’m going to turn what you think is impossible into my reality, and your jaw will hit the floor.”
“And we’ll celebrate in your name.” He toasts his wine at the same time Luna raises her new vodka. They sip in unison. “But remember,” Eliot says with a loving hand on the back of Tom’s head. “‘The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.’”
Tom strums on his guitar just once, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Robert Burns.”
Luna snaps her fingers like she’s in a coffeehouse. And I realize the three of them have their own thing. A cadence. A rhythm to their friendship. It makes me think of Farrow and Oscar.
My friends.
My smile softens as I down the rest of my whiskey. It’s cool being involved in her friend group. They start talking about when they’ll sneak away from everyone and go into the woods.
“We should wait a few days. Let some heat die off this room,” Eliot suggests.
“We’re practically a smoke signal right now,” Tom agrees. “Saying look at us. Look at us.”
“Sneaking should resume at a later date,” Luna nods.
I scratch behind Orion’s ears and ask, “Is that something we do?”
“Yeah, we have a spot in the woods where we do shrooms,” Tom says so seriously I almost think he’s joking.
He’s not, so I just tell the room, “I’m strictly a cigarettes and weed guy.”
“Huh,” Tom says with a nod. “Interesting.”
“Bad trip?” Eliot wonders.
Luna curls her ankle around my leg, and it distracts me in the best way, honestly.
“Seen more bad ones. Comes with the territory, you know,” I say casually and make a rock on gesture. They know my family are meth addicts. I’m not about to paint a nasty picture. Not in these beautiful four-walls.
Luna looks more troubled, her face twisting.
“You alright?” I ask.
She tries to tuck closer to me, but she’s stiff. Her eyes hoist to her friends. “Have I ever done anything more serious than shrooms and pot?”
Eliot and Tom share a quick glance, and I’m hurtled back to a conversation I had with her about drugs. “Maybe another day I’ll tell you,” she said to me, not wanting to ruin the first time we had sex, and we were just lounging in bed, discussing drugs and the importance of November 1st.
How it’d been the day I lost Beckett over cocaine.
How it turned into a better day through her.