Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
“You’d really sell Memph’s truck if I don’t do this? Your grandpa left it for him.”
Guilt washes over her, and she tries to lower her head, but I don’t allow it, holding her still with my knuckle under her chin. “You’re not supposed to ask me that.”
“Come on, Baby Franco, tell me.”
With a sad smile, she shakes her head. “It’s not his anymore, Crew.”
“Keep going.”
The sorrow in her smile fades, her lips quirking a bit higher at my ability to read her. She gives me a long look, quietly admitting, “If anyone should have it, it’s you. You know that. You put in more work on that truck than anyone.”
My chest inflates with a full breath, and I drop my hand, glancing to the side. “This isn’t like when you asked me to kiss you when we came back home that summer. You understand that, right?”
“Well…”
My head snaps up at her sugary, coaxing tone, and I frown at her gleeful expression.
“Davis.”
She’s grinning now and draws her shoulders up to her ears in a long, slow-released shrug. “I mean, it kind of is.”
I jerk back. “No, it’s not.”
“Come on, Crew. I had two whole friends, and both had boyfriends going into my senior year, and I was too chicken to talk to their boyfriends’ friends because I knew a kiss would follow at some point and I hadn’t kissed anyone yet. Not that you agreed when I asked anyway.”
“This is completely fucking different.”
“It’s basically the exact same thing.”
“Girl, I swear, you’re making me wanna—”
She’s laughing now, and for whatever reason, I cut myself off with a low huffed chuckle. It quickly becomes a sigh, and hers follows.
She’s always been one to light the fire, just to see what happens. Especially with me.
Almost as if she does it on purpose.
Brat probably does.
My phone goes off with an incoming text, so I look at the screen.
Paula: SOS. Breaker blew again.
Me: Fuck. What’s that the third time this month now?
Paula: Fourth, and Jose didn’t show again, so I can’t get into the basement.
Fucking great.
Me: On my way.
“I have to go,” I tell her, shoving my phone back in my pocket.
Giant yellow glasses greet me when I look up again, and Davis nods, having expected as much.
“Look.”
Look what? I have no fucking clue what I want to say to her right now.
She’s nutty is one thought, but I’ve known that for years. It’s part of her charm. It’s also not worth mentioning. Davis is fully aware her little mind works in wild ways that others don’t.
“Go, Crew.” She attempts a smile, but it’s tight.
I go, ignoring how each step takes a whole lot of fucking effort.
It’s hours later when I’m back lying in bed, staring at the cracks in the corner of my ceiling, when my phone beeps with a notification. Drew is live on Instagram.
Baited by curiosity, I click the link and watch him bullshit with the few dozen people who hopped on, but then he shifts in his seat, tilting his phone to his right.
Davis sits beside him with a smile, and I fly into a sitting position.
“What the fuck?”
At his instruction, she waves at the screen, and in the beat of a second, her cheeks grow a familiar shade of red. In an attempt to cover the blush, she lifts what looks to be a Shirley Temple in cheers and draws it to her glossy lips. Drew does the same, and I recognize the space around them.
The glasses they’re using.
The seats they’re sitting on.
They’re in the fucking bar.
Instantly, her words from last night come barreling back.
That’s why I used to pretend you were my boyfriend… you could totally help…
My fingers tighten around the phone, and I force my feet still.
Drew props his phone on something as he scoots closer to Davis and challenges her to a game of thumb war.
Her slender shoulders straighten, and she smiles, offering him her hand.
The bastard presses his lips to her knuckles, and my eyes fly to hers, waiting for her reaction.
She gives none, not even her famous shy, subconscious look down.
They play their little game, laughing and starting over an annoying number of times, tempting me to disconnect. I don’t and finally her hand is free of his.
Drew focuses on the viewers then and begins answering questions people ask while Davis drags her finger through the condensation building along her glass.
My brother’s talking, but I’m not listening. I’m watching her. The way she moves, laughs, speaks.
The way she’s watching him, curious and slightly amused.
I shrink the live feed, so I can still watch while texting her.
Me: Did you mean what you said last night?
She pulls her phone from her little purse, a small smile crossing her lips as her fingers fly across the screen.
Davis: You know me. I need specifics.
Of course you do, Sweets.
Me: You said if I won’t take your virginity, you’ll find someone else who will.