Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Hate these meetings yet secretly enjoy the rush of fucking empowerment Jan has a way of always delivering.
After our dismissal, I uncomfortably wander over to the refreshment table, avoiding eye contact with most individuals. Tonight’s spread includes several juices that would all taste better with a shot or two of vodka as well as stale pastries I should probably put in my mouth instead of the mint flavored toothpick in my pocket.
The trick works.
Almost identically to the candy one.
I still hate fucking gum but having something on my tongue has a weird way of calming my senses.
Making shit clearer.
And after spilling my fucking emotional backpack to a room full of semi-strangers, I need something to ease my mood.
Shelly, Noah’s – admittedly – stunning wife, did make gluten free, vegan, oatmeal date cookies this afternoon, but they taste like sadness.
Like if sadness could be molded and shaped into a fucking cookie…that would be it.
Shelby, my niece, is gonna need me around simply to introduce her to a fucking Oreo.
Thoughts of her cute little pudgy fingers going for the hair bows I put in my hair to make her giggle while her mother does her hair cause me to softly smirk.
That little girl immediately accepted me.
There was no hesitation.
No fear.
Nothing but open arms and giggles and approval.
It was the most magical fucking feeling in the world.
It’s also the one I use when the days or nights get too fucking hard and slipping into old ways gets too fucking tempting.
I use looking at her, hearing her laugh, and holding her like a fucking Batman style beacon in the sky.
I use our relationship to nurse the one I’m trying to develop with Noah.
Dealing with him is definitely fucking harder than dealing with his baby.
Though they do have the exact same unhappy scowl.
Even if he believes otherwise.
“Hey friend,” a vaguely familiar voice says from beside me, diverting my stare to it. As soon as our eyes connect, her bright blue ones light up as if I hung the fucking moon. “What’s a hottie like you doin’ in a place this?”
The smile I get is small but natural. “Kara.”
“Collins,” she coos at the same time she twists her low-rise jean covered hips.
Back and forth they swivel for my attention.
Slowly.
Steadily.
I give the area a curious glance, unsurprised by the section of warm beige skin on display for whoever can’t resist the pivoting bait.
She wants more than just my eyes on her.
Too bad I’m not really interested.
That shit she’s trying to offer isn’t worth breaking the dry spell I put myself in.
However, on the other hand, it might be worth keeping in my spank bank reserves.
Not sure what I will unbuckle my self-administered chastity belt for.
I kind of just assume that one of these days someone will come along and convince me to get into the sack again.
Sex is actually at the bottom of the list of shit I give a fuck about nowadays.
Fuck, I care more about finishing season three of The Office with Shelly than I do about getting my dick wet.
We need to know if Jim and Pam finally get together.
Noah’s not quite into it like we are, but it’s hard to be into much outside of living on his goddamn phone.
Dad used to do the same shit.
I know what the fuck it means.
I wish I didn’t.
Moving my gaze is done in tandem with grabbing a chocolate glazed donut. “Haven’t seen you here before.”
“You been lookin’?”
The hope in her tone is hard to ignore, yet I do. “First time?”
“Here.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see her shrug indifferently. “Been meeting hopping since I got out.”
“What? Can’t commit?”
“Why? You proposing?”
The good-natured taunting retort turns my frame towards hers. “We both know you’re not the type of chick to settle for anyone who makes less than six figures.”
“Uh…seven,” she teases with a flip of purple tipped hair over her shoulder. “I do have standards, Collins.”
Another carefree chuckle escapes prior to a playful, “My bad.”
“You’re forgiven this time.” Kara dramatically winks further demonstrating why distance between us is best.
She’s over the top.
And on the other side is a bunch of bullshit I just don’t need.
In any amount.
“So,” I casually begin, moving the pastry towards my lips, “did this session reach your ‘standards’?”
Without warning, Kara rises to the tips of her toes and sinks her teeth into the semi-soft treat in my hand while her eyelashes bat anything but innocently up at me.
An unhappy grunt is instantly given. “I was gonna fucking eat that.”
“I take what I want, Collins.” Her words are spoken around the pieces in her mouth. “And I go where I want. Hence the hopping.” She swallows the stolen bite in victory. “Guess you could call me a free spirit.”
“Right now, I wanna call your ass a thief for that passive fucking robbery you just committed on my donut.” Shoving the tainted treat her direction is followed by another question appearing. “Is that what the purple hair shit is about? Showing the world that you’re a ‘free spirit’?”