Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
My throat burned, and I took another long drink. Shit. This really was good. Two more sips, and I’d need a refill.
I eyed Ryan over the top. “You aren’t the type to take advantage of me, are you?”
He chuckled. “Nah.” He winked. “But I might graze the side of your boob when we’re sleeping later.”
I laughed and stopped immediately.
Shit. The last time I’d laughed, the last time I’d smiled, had been with him—not my old friends—or ex friends—and not anyone else. Just Ryan.
“Does it get better?” The question was out before I could take it back.
Ryan was quiet, holding my gaze across the room, and then he sighed. “I think it has to, at some point.”
God. I hoped so.
Pain I didn’t want to feel or acknowledge rose in my throat. It threatened to choke me, but I sat there. I waited, and it passed. I could breathe again a second later.
I finished my drink.
Ryan scooted forward, handing his glass over. “Here, take mine.”
“It’s yours.”
He shrugged, eating more chips. “I’ll down a beer later, maybe. Trust me. It’s fine.”
I took the glass, feeling his fingers on mine for a moment, and a warm and cozy sensation settled over me. It was the same tingle I’d felt when I had stepped into his home. Everything else was flat, black and white, gray, dull, cold, and then I went to him, and it felt like color was turned on.
I could feel hunger again, thirst again. I remembered it was normal to feel warmth.
Feeling the choking come back up my throat, I turned off my thoughts. Life was easier that way.
“You’re staying here tonight, right?” Ryan asked.
“Hmmm?” My shoulders sagged in relief. Thank you, Distraction.
He gazed around his room. “You’re sleeping here. That’s why you came, right?”
I nodded. “If that’s okay with you?”
A slow and wicked grin spread over his face. His eyes darkened, falling to my lips. “I’m a nice guy and all, but I’m not that nice, and especially lately, so trust me when I say this. You can sleep here any time you want.” His head leaned forward, his eyes almost digging into me. “That offer doesn’t go to anyone except you.”
The back of my neck warmed. I almost felt tongue-tied. “Thank you, and yes, that’s the plan.”
“But what about your folks? Won’t your friends or their parents say something when they realize you skipped town?”
I shook my head, feeling the booze loosening me up. “I left a note for Gi’s parents, but that was it. I doubt they’ll even notice till tomorrow morning.”
“You serious?”
I nodded. I should’ve felt sad about that. I felt relief.
“Gi and Zoe didn’t want me there. I knew it. They knew it. The parents didn’t care, but my friends have moved on. They have new lives.”
“That’s bullshit.”
Maybe. I drank half of Ryan’s drink instead of caring. “They loved Willow too. They were my best friends, but Willow and I were a package deal. I was friends with her friends.” I gestured to my face. “You weren’t at the funeral. It’s easier to forget Willow than to mourn her.” I remembered the disgust I saw on Duke’s face. “Her boyfriend couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He had his hands all over Serena, Willow’s best friend.”
“Yeah. Well . . .” Ryan balled up the bag of chips and tossed it across the room. It landed on the desk next to me. “People suck. Trust me. I get it.” He stood, pointing to my glass. “I’ll bring the ingredients. We can mix drinks till we pass out, huh?”
He left, so he didn’t see my response.
I was smiling so damn hard, and I wasn’t even sure why. All I knew was that I was happy when he came back. I could relax in this room with him, and I laughed until we did exactly what he said.
We passed out around three in the morning, after I drank myself into oblivion.
It was the best night I’d had in a long while.
I woke the next morning around eight.
I would’ve freaked, but Ryan rolled over, put his arm over me, and tugged me in for a side-hug. “No one’s here,” he murmured. “Trust me. We’re good.”
He was right. Even two hours later, the latest I allowed us to sleep, no one was around.
“My dad golfs on Saturdays.”
“What about your mom? Peach?”
He yawned, raking a hand through his hair as he padded to the bathroom. “Mom’s probably sleeping. Her book club doesn’t mess around. When they drink, they drink.” I heard the shower turn on, and he yelled over it, “And gossip. They wine hard and gossip hard.”
I stood, edging to the opened door. I almost gulped, but he didn’t seem to care. This was a different level of intimacy. Then again, maybe it was because we’d slept together. Yeah. That was it. Either way, I was feeling nerves and flutters in my stomach that I didn’t recognize. I’d never felt like that. Ever.