Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 50770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
“It’s something.”
“Seriously though, are you okay? I can take you back home, I just—I don’t know, it’s your birthday and I want to be with you. I wish I could do more.”
He has no idea he’s doing everything that nobody has ever done by just existing and actually offering to do something.
I take a deep breath and rest against his chest. I can feel his heart through my palm, his skin is even warm through his shirt. I love it. I love that I could easily tap my fingers to his heartbeat.
I love that he’s funny and serious at the same time.
I love so much.
And then I wonder, if I’m laying with a stranger or a guy I’ve known for two days, sleeping with him, and just existing with him on my birthday, is the love I’ve known or thought I known my entire life, an actual lie?
Shit. Immediately, it hits me. I really am going to start an episode, I can feel it not physically as much as emotionally. I’m getting anxious and depression is creeping in.
I feel the darkness coming.
Tears burn the back of my eyes, why is it always like this? That when my body starts to completely betray me, my mind does too? I feel out of control, I feel like the world isn’t the same, that the sun just set and abandoned me along with everyone else. And then I feel guilty for feeling that way, like my anxiety is somehow a selfish emotion.
I take a few deep breaths.
“Hey.” Quinn pulls me up onto his lap. God, he’s a gorgeous distraction with his straight white toothed smile, small dimples, messy man bun. I can’t, the list will just go on and on if I keep checking him out. His warmth though, it’s not just the way he looks, it’s, wow, it’s the way he looks at me.
I don’t know if I’ve ever had anyone look at me the way he does.
Is this what feeling special is like?
Feeling unique?
Like the most important person in the others world that they can’t for one second look away?
“You’re still beautiful.” He cups my chin with his hand, I suddenly realize how large it is, his thumb brushes across my lower lip. “I just want to take care of you on this day, mainly every day, even though you’re probably still wondering if I’m a serial killer.”
“You’re not.”
“I’m not.”
“See? Though, we do need to have our first fight in order to solidify all assumptions, until then—“ He leans in at the same time a knock sounds at the door.
“Cockblocking Ambrose, I’m gonna murder him…” The door opens and Zane Andrews, you know famous, gorgeous guy we saw earlier strolls right on in like he owns the place.
He drops his phone and sunglasses on the kitchen counter and stretches his arms over his head.
He’s literally wearing no shirt, only low-slung ripped jeans that show his black Calvin Klein underwear and he has a weird smile on his face.
“Bro, you high?” Quinn asks. “Also, why? Just why?”
Zane frowns. “No, I just made a neighborhood decision.”
“What’s that?” I whisper under my breath.
“Hey there.” He winks a blue eye in my direction. “Anyway, neighborhood decision…” He walks around the couch, then plops down next to me. “Basically, the kid shit his pants again, the wife is gone, the nanny is present because my beautiful wife had to go out of town and when I saw an escape from shit, I took it, and then I told everyone else—also yes, parenting isn’t for the weak and I haven’t had time off in years from not only my work but from wiping asses, so don’t judge me with your judgmental eyes.”
I hold up my hands. “No judgement over the shit.”
He peers around me. “I think she’s a keeper.”
Quinn sighs. “Okay, so what’s this about?”
“We’re having a barbeque, might play some pong.” He sighs. “Or maybe even nap, actually, damn, can you imagine how nice it would be to just… lay down?”
“Do you not… er, sleep?” I ask.
His left eye twitches.
Quinn leans in and whispers, “I think that was a no.”
“Anyway!” Zane jumps up. “The life of a rockstar and full-time dad is exhausting and I’m starting work on the new album next week so I think I deserve some time out, oh shit, you guys watching Pretty Woman?” He proceeds to jump between us on the couch—still shirtless mind you while another knock sounds at the door. “It’s open!”
“It’s not your house,” Quinn grumbles under his breath.
Zane scoffs. “Actually, it’s not your house either, besides, did you not hear the explanation? No shitty diapers. I get to sit here.”
“Shirtless.” I add, staring at his chest.
He points at me. “Very perceptive of you and while I did used to go around with no shirt on, the only reason I pulled mine off today was because it had chocolate on it—was touch and go there for a minute there when I thought it was poop.”