Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
She nodded, swallowing her bite and reaching for her wine.
“Don’t tell me you really did cheat,” I said, but couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Not that I was a fan of cheating, but I was a big fan of that golden boy asshole getting what he deserved.
“Of course I didn’t cheat,” Mia spat back. She couldn’t look at me as she toyed with the food on her plate. “But he wasn’t responsible for my first orgasm. I was.”
“Oh, I like where this is going,” I said, leaning in for more.
“Well, too bad for you, that’s all of the story you’re going to get.”
“Come on! You can’t leave me hanging like that. What’d you use? Your hands?”
“Aleks!”
“A vibe?”
“Stop,” she dragged out the word on a grin, her face turning bright red as she covered it with her hands.
“It was a vibe, wasn’t it. Dirty girl.” I smirked. “What kind was it? Was it big, or just one of those little clit ticklers?”
Mia laughed, throwing another piece of bacon at me. “You’re such a perv.”
I drank my wine with a grin, watching her over the rim of my glass. My smile faded as my curiosity got the best of me. “What’s the real story of what happened between you two?”
“What, you don’t read the tabloids?” She waved her hand toward her phone. “Obviously, I’m a crazy, neurotic, jealous drama queen, and he couldn’t fix me.”
I just waited, watching as she ran her finger through a glob of cheese and slipped it into her mouth.
“I don’t want to bore you with my relationship woes.”
“I asked,” I reminded her. “And we used to talk about relationship woes all the time.”
Her eyes flicked to mine then, and she didn’t have to say a word for me to know what she was thinking.
That was before.
Before I was helping her stumble into her room after getting too drunk at a party. Before she confessed she wanted me. Before she tried to kiss me.
Before I’d told her I couldn’t.
The memory of that night had haunted me since, the little devil on my shoulder always whispering and wondering what would have happened if I’d have given in. But she wasn’t sober enough to give any kind of consent that night, and when she was sober again — she’d laughed it off, making light of it, pointing out the fact that she was drunk and being silly.
And by the time we were out of her parents’ house and I was settled in Seattle, it was too late for me to make a move of my own.
She was moving to Los Angeles.
And then, she was dating some pretty boy rock star five years older than us.
That was just the first of her relationships with men who were nothing like me. After him, there was the DJ, the activist, and finally, Austin.
And I got the picture loud and clear of what her type was.
Good. Every single one of them was good. You’d never see them on the news for fighting, getting thrown out of a bar, getting a DUI, or flipping off a ref during a charity game for kids.
They were the poster boys, the ones you take home to mom and dad. And she deserved that.
But I’d be lying if I said a part of me didn’t rejoice every time they fucked up and lost her.
Mia was quiet for a moment as I succumbed to my memories, and I let my eyes wash over her clean face. Even tired, she was so gorgeous it was hard not to stare. Her skin was sun kissed from the afternoon, the beauty mark beneath her left eye almost blending with her complexion now. Her lips were as plump and inviting as always, eyes the most intoxicating hue of blue behind her glasses. They sparkled in the low light of the kitchen as she topped off both our wine glasses before she finally answered.
“He wanted me to be someone I’m not.”
I took a swig of the wine to hide how my jaw tightened at that, and to keep my mouth shut so she’d continue.
“The further we got into our relationship, the more he… changed. He used to compliment my success — ask about my music, help me write when I was stuck, tell me how talented I was. He would praise my success around his friends, make me feel like a million bucks.” She shook her head, finger tracing the rim of her wine glass. “But the longer we were together, the more he’d make these little comments that felt like backhanded compliments. He’d not-so-subtly hint to how his career was more important than mine, that he was so thankful that when we got married, he knew he could count on me to support him and take care of our family.”
I wrinkled my nose, and Mia laughed a little.