Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
I’ve never been fucked first thing in the morning before, but it turns out, it’s better than coffee. I don’t even drink any when we wander downstairs for breakfast.
We keep it simple with oatmeal and fresh fruit this morning. I’m feeling a little less blasé about the fact that he has now fucked me twice without a condom this weekend, but I’m not freaking out about it now that I’m technically on birth control.
While I’m doing an overview of the times Hunter has made me reckless, I glance up at him eating breakfast across the table from me. He looks so handsome with his hair mussed, still damp from the shower. I like the intimacy of having breakfast with him.
I wish I could just let myself enjoy it, but apparently, I can’t.
My mind wanders into darker, more haunted corners.
I wonder if Valerie ever looked at him across the breakfast table like this, enjoying a quiet, intimate morning with him after a night of sex and cuddles.
Hunter looks up and catches my gaze.
His brown eyes warm and he gives me a little smile.
I look down so he doesn’t notice my blue eyes don’t do the same.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” he answers, obviously not knowing what’s on my mind.
I bite down on my bottom lip, anxious about letting the words out into the universe. If I ask and he says no, then I’ll feel better, but if the answer is yes…
I definitely will not feel better.
“Did you ever—I mean, did she ever—” I stop with an aggravated huff and try again. “Did you ever spend the night with Valerie?”
“No,” he answers, but too readily. It makes me wonder if he’s telling the truth.
“Are you sure?”
“Yep.” Reaching across the table, he grabs his orange juice and takes a sip. “I know I mentioned maybe going to her famous sleepover party in middle school, but I didn’t make it. I had to go to Italy before it happened that year.”
“I didn’t mean in middle school. I meant since you’ve been back. While you were… together.”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Would you lie just to make me feel better?”
Hunter looks at me for several seconds before answering. “No. I want you to love me despite the worst things I’ve done. Covering my tracks to protect your feelings wouldn’t accomplish that.”
I find his answer a little dissatisfying, but I’m not sure why. Looking at my bowl as I scoop up a spoonful of oatmeal and a sliced strawberry, I say, “I do love you.”
The but hangs in the air between us, but neither of us feels like entertaining it right now, so we don’t.
___
Since I am staying at Hunter’s all weekend, we have to do our weekend homework together at his house.
I am not sad about it.
As much as I’ve enjoyed lazing around and exchanging orgasms, I’m happy to finally put some clothes on and use more than just the pleasure center of my brain for a while.
Hunter seems less enthusiastic about it, but I’m full of sunshine as we spread out our study materials on his massive dining room table. Hunter brought down an extra laptop—who has an extra laptop?—in case I need it.
I might for our English assignment, but I still need to wrap my head around that one.
Hunter looks so handsome as he cracks open a gently read copy of The Great Gatsby and reads a page to refresh his memory.
“We should read together later,” I tell him.
“Gatsby?”
“No, we already read that. I don’t mean a school book, I mean for fun. Surely you have books.”
“I mean... yes, but I still don’t read much outside of school. Did you not bring a book for the weekend? I’m a little shocked.”
“No, I did, but I only brought one for me, not for you,” I say, flashing him a smile.
“Considering we are not under house arrest, we could also go out to a bookstore and pick something up if we wanted to. I doubt I’ll read, but if you want to, that’s cool with me.”
“I want you to read something you’ll like, too. I can’t read by myself while you do nothing. That would be rude.”
“It wouldn’t be rude, I have other stuff I can do. I need to check in on social media at some point this weekend anyway so no one thinks I died.”
I roll my eyes, but let the topic go so we can get started on our homework.
Opening my notebook to a fresh page, I ask, “On a scale from 1 to 10, how nerdy is it that I’m excited to do homework with you?”
Hunter looks at me and smirks. “Off the charts.”
“Well, I am,” I say unashamedly as I dig out my own copy of Gatsby. “Wanna start with English? I haven’t really been looking forward to this assignment, but I guess it’s good strategy to get the thing I’m dreading most out of the way first.”