Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 92070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
"Never?" she asks.
"Yeah, never. I thought you'd get that. If you want to do this, pick another scenario," I say.
She softens as she studies me. "This is a big thing for you."
"Luna!"
"Okay, okay. Give me a second." She taps her chin, thinking. "I got it. Eyes closed."
I close them.
"Imagine you're in a beautiful hotel room. It's nice, way nicer than where you usually stay. Sheer white curtains, soft breeze, smooth sheets."
"This sounds like the start of a porno." I've done a lot, but I've never recorded myself, alone or with someone. If I did, I would keep it classy. Sheer white is a nice look.
"I thought you didn't watch porn."
"I don't watch mainstream porn," I say.
"It's tasteful. Like your indie porn."
"Do you watch porn?" No. I can't do this vision game anymore. I need to distract her. I need to move on to a different topic.
"Dare!"
"Do you?" I ask.
"Occasionally."
"You like it? Really?" I ask.
"Darren Dickson."
Okay, fine, I get it. She's not distractable. I have to play along and give her shit about this later. "Go on."
"Where was I?"
"A hotel room from a classy porno." I envision some big, open room with white walls and wide windows. A beach view, maybe. The stars at night.
"Okay, yeah, maybe you're making your own classy porno."
That's a little too interesting.
"Yeah, you're there, in those smooth sheets, waiting for someone to arrive."
"Do I take it out?"
"Sure, why not?" She doesn't take the bait. "You're listening to music that sets the mood. Whatever that is for you. And you're nervous, 'cause you're waiting for someone special, someone you really want to show a good time. Then the bathroom door opens and she steps out in sheer white lingerie. Who is it?"
Val. Of course. Who else would it be? "Just 'cause I want her—"
"You don't just want her. You want to rock her world. You want to express your love, physically."
Fuck. That sounds way too good.
"It's her, right?"
"She's my best friend."
"And you want more."
"I'm attracted to her, sure." It falls off my lips. I like her. Fine. I like her. "But that's a physical thing."
"Is it though?"
I swallow hard.
"You'll feel better if you admit it."
Footsteps steal our attention. Then the gate. Val, with two giant grocery bags (both reusable, of course).
Luna jumps to her feet. "Let me talk to her."
"What are you going to say?"
"Nothing that gives you away. Trust me."
I don't. But I'm too tempted by potential discoveries to stop her.
Chapter Seven
VAL
"Hey." Dare's friend rushes to me. "Let me help with that." She grabs one of the grocery bags. "Val, right?"
"Yeah."
"Luna." She looks around the quiet courtyard. "Actually, I don't know which one is his."
"He's not throwing parties?"
"Not usually."
Really? Dare is always up for a good time. The more drinking and dancing, the better. Have things changed since I left? Or did I not notice them change before that? "This way."
She follows me across the courtyard. Thankfully, the door is open, so I don't have to wrestle with the bag and the keys (I've had a copy since he moved into the place).
She helps me put all the cold stuff in the fridge, arranges the other snacks by the pool, and drops a few bottles in the cooler.
When she returns to the apartment, she studies me with curiosity, like I'm a surrealist movie she can't begin to understand.
Luna. She's familiar. We've met at a few Inked Love parties. She's in their circle somehow. Through her best friend, I think. (Parties aren't really my thing. I show up, sure, but only because Dare bribes me with promises of movie marathons).
Luna is a lot like Dare, actually. Tall, fit, impossibly cool. Like him, she radiates I barely try energy. Silver hair, hipster style, forearm tattoo.
They make sense together.
Oh.
Shit.
Is this why things feel so loaded? It's not my need for a wingman. It's Dare finally dating. Actually dating.
My stomach flutters.
My cheeks flame.
She's so pretty and cool, and she has that sexual, open-minded energy, like she's totally down to have a threesome or do anal or whatever.
Everything. Anything.
Not that I judge.
I don't judge.
Good for her, really, for not drowning in hang-ups.
I'm happy for her. For him. For them.
I'm nauseous for a totally different reason.
"How long have you two…" I try to find the words to express it, but I can't. I don't want to say it. It's one thing for Dare to sleep with someone, with a lot of people. But an actual girlfriend?
This is just… weird. And it's hot in here. When did it get so hot in here?
"Dare is a great guy," I say.
"Yeah." She studies me with her grey-green eyes. "He loves the whole I'm hot and dumb routine, but he's so sweet under that."
"He is." My throat is dry. I need water. Coffee. Gin tonic. Absolutely gin tonic. It's not day drinking if it's dinnertime in Spain. Dinnertime in Spain is nine o'clock. And no one thinks nine is too early for cocktails.