Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 60309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
It would feel worse having no one.
“He didn’t wear a condom?” Tom suddenly asks me, looking to me for confirmation.
My face roasts. “I didn’t think about it. I should have.”
“He should have,” Eliot refutes passionately as if to say don’t blame yourself.
But I am partly to blame. I’m just glad I’m not pregnant. I feel like the universe gave me a win, even if I chose the wrong “option” presented to me.
I’m stuck on something, though. “You got in trouble, didn’t you? That’s why you don’t have a happy ending and you can’t go on tour.”
“We weren’t exactly discreet,” Tom admits.
“You were there?” I ask. Scratch everything—they did this for me.
He nods. “Eliot did all the painting. I was the getaway car.”
“Which is why I’m taking all the blame,” Eliot says, eyes heavy on his brother. I’m guessing this has been a point of contention.
“You don’t have to do that,” Tom snaps. “Just let’s say we did it together.”
“Then we both get in trouble, and that’s absurd when only one of us has to. Give me all the credit.”
“That’s the problem, Eliot Alice,” Tom says. “You’re a credit whore. You won’t ever let me return the favor.”
Eliot doesn’t deny this. But I learn that Eliot and Tom don't know if their parents have found out yet, but they suspect they will soon. Hence, Eliot's gearing up for a punishment. No FanCon involvement.
“I’m sorry that either of you are getting in any kind of trouble. For sticking up for me.”
“Luna with No Middle Name,” Tom replies, “that’s the kind of trouble we love getting into.”
“The best kind,” Eliot agrees with another mischievous grin.
I’m smiling, and the fire is starting to die down. Tom has stopped stoking it with twigs and branches, and the moon glows brighter.
We are getting older.
Once we graduate, our lives will look mighty different, but I know no matter what, our friendship will always remain.
I admire Tom and Eliot for doing what’s in their hearts, no matter the consequence, and maybe that’s why they’re my friends. They remind me to take bigger leaps and run in dangerous directions—or maybe that’s always been inside of me.
Maybe that’s why we’re friends—not because I need reminding to take leaps—but because I’ve always had it in me to choose not the right thing, not the wrong thing, but the perilous thing. Like them.
I imagine myself driving out to the tour bus, away from the messiness of Caden and school, towards a blanker slate and the comfort of people I know and love.
And I begin to smile.
FOUR
CHRISTMAS EVE ON TOUR
DECEMBER 2037
DURING CHAPTER 27 IN LOVERS LIKE US
Character List:
Jane Cobalt - 22
Sullivan Meadows - 19
Luna Hale - 18
Bodyguards:
Thatcher Moretti - 27 Omega Co-Lead (Current Client: Jane Cobalt)
Akara Kitsuwon - 26 Omega Co-Lead (Current Client: Sullivan Meadows)
THATCHER MORETTI
CHRISTMAS EVE IS a clusterfuck.
I’m almost tapped out of patience. My last reserve is being depleted on one of my men who just tried to defend an undefendable situation. J.P. refused to admit that he made a glaring fuck-up that could’ve cost his client’s life.
Next time, Luna might not be this lucky, and Akara and I can’t trust that he’ll do his job and protect her. He’s not taking any ownership. Not apologizing.
He’s foaming at the fucking mouth and blaming Luna for sneaking out.
She left her house without anyone knowing, traded in her Kia for a used Jetta, and drove all alone to meet up with the tour bus.
J.P.’s words still ring in my ears. It’s not my fault that she’s not normal. She’s really weird. We don’t fucking mesh.
I only agreed with the last statement. The others were horseshit and made me happy to sign his fucking termination papers.
“Asshole,” Akara growls and glares at his cell. He just hung up on J.P. His patience also gone.
I’m buck-naked in the second lounge, where Akara and I talk privately. I toss my red jockstrap on a duffel bag and then step into a pair of sweatpants. I was fine with doing the Hot Santa Contest for team morale, but I didn’t sign up for Luna Hale to see me barely clothed.
She might be eighteen, but I’ve been around the Hale family for a long time and I’ve known her since she was much younger.
And she saw my bare ass tonight.
Unprofessional.
That’s on me. Shouldn’t have happened.
Akara keeps shaking his head, his jaw clenched. He’s in red boxer-briefs, a hell of a lot more appropriate than a jockstrap. He starts putting on track pants. “I’ve never yelled at someone on the 24/7 roster that harshly and been met with that intense of pushback. There’s zero respect there.”
I knot the strings of my sweatpants. “I’ve been too easy on him.”
J.P. is an Epsilon bodyguard. I’ve been his direct lead, and at the moment, I’m a co-Omega lead with Akara while on tour.
“He’s not green. J.P. should’ve known better,” Akara refutes. “And sooner or later, Epsilon bodyguards were going to try to test our authority.” Because we voted to keep Farrow on the team. Even though he broke a rule that would’ve sent any other bodyguard packing.