Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
I roll over her, half lying on her body as I bury my face in her white comforter that looks blue in the moonlight. “And this bed,” I muse. “It smells like jubilation and girl skin.”
I dive into her neck, nibbling gently.
She lets out a laugh and pushes me off. “Stop.”
I lie back, cradling her head in the crook of my arm and staring down at her. “I can do better.”
I’m not sure if I mean sex or something else, but she simply smiles. “I have no doubt. When it’s someone you really love.”
I wasn’t sure if I really wanted sex tonight, but now I do.
She gazes up at me, and I hold her eyes, not at all disappointed, though. I get tired of being fucked sometimes.
Army took Dex home an hour ago, and I stayed with her, only because I didn’t want to go home. She didn’t ask questions when I laid down on her bed. We need friends. Both of us.
“Are you mad at me?” she asks, not breaking eye contact.
No. I’m actually just grateful she knows I’m not clueless like all of my family and friends assume I am about everything. I knew she was going to bed with Iron as soon as she showed up at the party.
But I whisper, “Do you care?”
“Yeah.”
I can’t help but smile a little. “Are you mad at me?” I ask her.
“No.”
I hold her body tightly, still looking down at her. I’m not sure why I never did this to her sooner. It feels good.
“Do you miss him?” she asks.
I let out a breath and turn my eyes up to the ceiling. “I don’t know.”
I feel her eyes on me, and I shift, uncomfortable. Macon, Dallas, Army … we don’t go there. Iron’s gone. Talking won’t help.
Do I miss him?
“I mean, I love him and I hope he’s okay, but …” I shake my head, searching for my words. “That feeling like I’m waiting for something—or like something is incomplete—has always been there. I don’t really feel any different than I did two months ago when Liv left for college, or eight years ago when my mom and dad died.” I squeeze her arm in my hand. “It seems I’ve always been missing someone.”
I feel her slowly inch in as far as she can, molding herself to me.
I like her.
I can’t be Macon or Army. I can’t be Liv. I don’t feel like I have time to learn things. Space to stutter. Room to make mistakes. I’m stupid to them. I know I am. I know I’ll fail if I ever really try, so I just try to be funny instead. Or fun. If I can make the house brighter, maybe Macon will know I’m alive.
“I’m glad you told me your dream,” she says, her breath seeping through my T-shirt. “And you know what’s weird? I see it. Not really the ‘living in a cottage’ part. I’m still working on that.”
I chuckle to myself.
“But the forest-green leather seats on the barstools,” she goes on. “The candlelight flickering against the walls. The black chesterfield chairs at the tables, and you in a crisp blue button-down behind the bar.”
“Not a T-shirt?”
“Nope.” She tips her chin up, assertive. “You’re a gentleman now. A respectable proprietor with vast knowledge of the history of whiskey and the difference between aging it in American oak barrels versus French oak barrels.”
Do I really need to know that?
“And there’s a microbrewery on-site,” she continues. “Huge copper tanks you can see through the glass wall, and you call your signature beer—”
“It’ll be a distillery, thank you,” I fire back. “Rum.”
She smiles, tucking herself into me again. Green leather on the barstools … I was thinking black, but green sounds classier.
“It always gets better in my head,” I say. “More detailed. It’s a good dream.”
“It’s going to happen.”
I close my eyes, ready to sleep with the picture in my mind, but she does that thing where she drapes her leg over mine so the heat between her thighs is on mine, and I start to stir.
“Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to have sex?” I ask. “I mean, you could be practice for someone I really love someday.”
She kicks my leg, growling, and I shake with a laugh.
9
Krisjen
Trace slept in my bed, and we didn’t have sex. I’m still smiling two days later. He was sweet. I’ve never seen him like that before.
If I’m around, I’ll help him set up that pub someday. I’d love to, actually.
I roll the dish rack back into the washer, picturing it in my head.
I’d be proud to see him have that dream. Really proud. Still not sure about the cottage part, though. It’s barely big enough for a family. Or his brothers if they visit. Not sure he’s thought that through.
I plop down in the chair next to the cook’s station, taking Santos’s flask as he rolls out dough for pies.