Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Drew cooked dinner, so he didn’t have to do dishes. After everything was cleared away, we all got in a few hours of work before Carter said, “Screw it.” He went into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of wine and some glasses. After that, we all retired to the sofa. Tristan poured the wine while Carter made a fire.
Tonight, I felt a little more comfortable sitting on the sofa between Drew and Tristan. The heat from the fireplace warmed my feet, which I had propped up on the coffee table, a blanket over my legs. It was pretty relaxing even though the guys wanted to watch some sci-fi movie, which wasn’t really my thing. But first, Tristan wanted to catch up on the latest posts from that tech influencer he liked, Lila James.
“Why is her channel called Battery Operated?” I asked after the second video in which Lila demonstrated how her entire early morning routine, from her alarm, to opening the blinds, the temperature of the shower, and even making coffee could be controlled from her smartphone. “Isn’t most tech rechargeable now?”
“She sometimes reviews sex toys. We told you that, right?” Tristan said, not sounding embarrassed at all.
“So?”
“Sometimes women refer to a favorite sex toy as their battery-operated boyfriend,” Drew elaborated. He didn’t seem embarrassed either, but my cheeks warmed.
“Ever had one?” Carter asked.
“A boyfriend?” I squeaked, hoping that’s what he meant.
But before he could answer, Tristan cut in. “Can it, Carter.”
To my surprise, Carter nodded. “Are we ready for the movie?”
“Somebody else put it on,” Tristan said. “My battery’s almost dead.”
“I’ve got it.” He did something, and then the television above the fireplace displayed his phone screen. Apparently, Drew and Lila James weren’t the only two people good at tech.
He selected the movie, and the television stopped mirroring his screen. A disclaimer popped up, helpfully letting us know that the upcoming preview was suitable for all audiences.
Then the TV filled with an image of a desert canyon, with towers of red rocks in the distance and a dusty road in the foreground. It looked very familiar.
Very familiar.
Oh.
My.
God.
“Stop,” I tried to say, but my breath caught in my throat as a car crested over a hill and raced across the landscape. “Stop,” I said louder, and I got to my feet, my blanket dropping to the ground.
Everyone looked at me in astonishment as I scrambled over Tristan’s legs, my pulse so strong I heard it in my ears. I rounded on Carter. “Give me your phone.”
His dark eyes reflected genuine astonishment as I reached across him to grab it. But all I succeeded in doing was knocking it from his hand.
“Son of a bitch,” he snapped, reaching for it at the same time I scrambled toward it. He got it first and took a cursory glance at the glass to make sure it wasn’t cracked, then took hold of my arm and to keep me away from it. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
When he got no answer from me, he looked to Drew and Tristan. They stared at the television, their mouths open. After glaring at me for a moment longer, Carter’s gaze went there, too. And finally, so did mine.
And there I was. Dancing a sexy salsa with Aiden Hunt. Squealing in fear as he drove his getaway car like a madman down the highway. Ducking behind a rock as he pushed me down during a shootout. And then being pinned roughly against the wall as his lips met mine.
Shit.
The trailer ended, and the opening credits of the sci-fi movie played. No one said anything. Eventually, Carter realized he was still clutching my arm and he let me go. I tried not to meet his eyes, but I still caught the expression on his face.
He looked at me differently. They all were. I could feel it, even though I didn’t turn toward the other two.
Without a word, I walked to the hallway and shut myself in the bathroom. Sitting down on the edge of the tub, I put my head in my hands. Shit.
I tried to talk myself down. It wasn’t the end of the world. Being an actress wasn’t a shameful thing. Most people who acted in movies loved it when people saw them.
But now, they knew I’d lied to them. Tristan, Carter, and Drew. They knew I’d lied—or at least, they knew I’d left a hell of a lot out of my bio. And now they’d treat me differently. It had already started.
The logical part of my brain offered reassurance again. Did it matter? I was here to write, not to make friends. But… it kind of felt like I had made a friend, at least with Drew. Maybe even Tristan, too. I’d enjoyed our talk today. He kind of felt like a coworker, like the person who worked in the next office over, someone I could have a pleasant conversation with or complain to when something went wrong. Of course, I’d never had a job that normal, but I imagined that’s how it would’ve felt.