Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Maybe I would march my butt right over to his apartment and ask him straight out. I wasn’t opposed to begging either. Begging him to just try. To try and make this thing between us work. My hands shook with the mere possibility of it.
Even if I ended up being wrong, even if I put our friendship on the line for the sake of my heart—both our hearts, because what if he did feel the same?—I knew I had to try.
And maybe Mar Far chicken would give me just the fuel I needed—or knock some sense into me. My empty stomach might’ve been messing with my logic.
The knock on my door startled me. “That was fast.” I rolled off the couch and dragged my sappy butt to the entryway. Suddenly I was starving and looked forward to stuffing my face.
I threw open the door, fully expecting it to be the same delivery guy from my previous orders, and I blinked in shock. Skylar was standing in my hallway.
It almost felt like a dream because while I knew we would eventually see each other again as friends, I’d anticipated it would take a while before we laid eyes on each other in person.
And I was likely viewing him through lovesick glasses because the Skylar standing before me was stunning, with a full face of makeup, distressed jeans, and a cool graphic tee that could have been his own creation.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” I said in a flirtier voice than I’d intended. It was nearly bordering on breathless desperation, to be honest. I needed to be more friend zone than hookup central, I told myself.
“You are too—wait, what are you wearing?” Skylar asked, taking in my faded, holey sweats that hadn’t seen the light of day in months.
My cheeks warmed, stripes of pink no doubt scalding them, and I pulled down on my sweatshirt in an effort to make myself look more presentable, which was basically impossible. “Well, it wasn’t like I thought I’d see anyone tonight outside of the delivery guy.”
“Oh shoot, I didn’t mean to barge in on your plans.” Suddenly he looked unsure of himself. “I…I could…”
“The only plans I have are with my couch and Mar Far chicken.”
“Now those are plans I can get behind.” He smirked, then motioned to my sweats. “And I like this version of Clark.”
I fidgeted, resisting the urge to go and change immediately into something more me. But this was me too, at least on my lowest days.
“So…um, what are you doing here?” I asked, realizing we’d gotten offtrack. “Not that I mind seeing you. It’s just a surprise.”
He glanced over my shoulder. “Can I…come inside?”
“Oh my God, I’m sorry. Of course.”
He stepped through, and I shut the door soundly behind him.
Christ, what was I thinking, leaving him out in the hallway like that? But it wasn’t like I was in the right frame of mind. In fact, it almost felt impossible that he’d shown up at all.
He toed off his shoes at the door, then turned to me. “First, I wanted to tell you that I got the job!”
“Oh my god! Congratulations!” I went to hug him, then thought better of it. God, it hurt to have him here and not be able to touch him the way I wanted to. “Should we toast to the good news?”
“That would be awesome. I could use a drink.”
“Me too.” So I could drown my sorrows after he left.
I opened a bottle of red while he retrieved two glasses from the cupboard. Guess old habits die hard. I followed him to the living room, thinking how surreal this felt. But I could do this—be friends. He came over to share some good news, and that was what friends did, right?
He sank down on the couch, and I did as well, leaving enough distance between us so that my urges to reach out to him were kept at bay.
“Okay, what should we toast to?” I lifted my glass. “Jobs?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Jobs, plural?”
My cheeks heated. “Yeah, well…my parents accepted my offer to relocate to the new office, and I honestly can’t wait.”
“That’s amazing,” he said, and my eyes snagged on his mouth as it stretched into a brilliant grin. I wanted to kiss him so badly. “Your mom didn’t tell me that part.”
“My mom?” My eyes sprang to his. “What do you mean?”
He carefully placed his wine on one of the coasters. “I was on my way over here when your mom showed up at my apartment.”
I nearly spilled my drink, so I followed his lead and set mine down on the coffee table with shaky hands. “Are you messing with me?”
He shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“Why would she do that? Oh my God, if she decided to meddle in my life again, I might—”