Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Nothing.”
He laughs. “Wrong answer.”
“Gavin, really—what do you want to know? My birthday? Favorite color? Favorite Paula Abdul song?”
He sits up like we’re about to square off. “Birthday?”
“July twenty-eighth.”
“Color?”
“Vermilion.”
“Fancy,” he says.
“It’s color perfection.”
He nods. “Noted. Paula Abdul song?”
“I’d say ‘Straight Up,’ but the video for ‘Opposites Attract’ is perfection,” I smirk. “You have no idea who Paula Abdul is, do you?”
“I’ll YouTube it later.”
“Cool.”
We stare at one another like we can’t decide if we’re friends or enemies. Our eyes are narrowed, brows furrowed. It stays that way until the corners of Gavin’s lips begin to pull to the ceiling. They bring mine up along with them.
“Your turn,” I say. “Birthday, color, and … Aerosmith song.”
“February first, cerulean, and ‘Cryin’’ is the best Aerosmith song of all time.”
I make a face. “Wrong answer.”
“How can it be wrong? They’re my favorites.”
“Everyone knows that Aerosmith’s best song is ‘Rag Doll.’ Maybe I’ll agree with ‘Dream On’—maybe. But it’s not ‘Cryin’’ in any way, shape, or form.”
He grins. “Have you seen Alicia Silverstone in that video? I rest my case.”
Together, we laugh.
Gavin stretches his legs out, much like Chase does when he’s itching to get up after dinner but is polite while Kennedy and I chat.
“Do you need to go?” I ask.
“No. Why?”
I shrug.
“I saw Patti this morning,” Gavin says. “We were getting gas at the same time. She asked me for your number, and I told her that I didn’t have it. She thought I was lying.”
“Why would you be lying?”
“Well, you know,” he says cockily. “I usually end up with women’s numbers.”
I scoff.
“You think I’m kidding?” he asks. “I don’t know who ninety percent of the people are in my phone.”
I believe that wholeheartedly.
“You don’t have mine,” I say. “That says something.”
“I don’t have yours because you’re … you.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, trying not to be offended.
“You’re my friend. I’m not trying to hook up with you.”
“Should I take that personally? According to your brother, you try to hook up with everyone.”
He chuckles. “Well, according to my brother, I’m not allowed to try to hook up with you.”
Gavin holds my gaze, letting that sink in.
Chase has banned Gavin from trying to hook up with me? What the fuck?
“Not that I want to hook up with you,” I say, making that clear. “But why does Chase give a shit about who I hook up with?”
Gavin gasps. “You wouldn’t hook up with me?”
“Gavin.”
“What’s wrong with me?” He looks hurt. “And don’t say I’m not your type because I’m everyone’s type.”
I burst out laughing.
“You’re killing me here, Megs.”
“If we were in another time and place, I’d totally consider you doable,” I say. “You’re cute.”
“Cute? Kill me now.”
I continue to laugh. “Stop it, Gav.”
Tucker walks by the table. “I think you’re cute, Gavin.”
“Fuck off, Tucker.”
He walks away, his belly bouncing as he chuckles.
“Fine.” He sits up and straightens his shirt. “I’m still offended, but I’ll let it slide.”
“Thanks. Now, why does Chase care?”
Gavin’s antics stop, and a coyness creeps across his features. I’m not sure if that’s better or worse for me.
My heart beats faster the longer Gavin goes without talking. He becomes more smug. More arrogant. More entertained by this line of conversation. And while that worries me, I can’t back out now because I want to know the answer.
I’m well aware that Chase is attracted to me. He’s outright admitted it. But he’s also been clear that it doesn’t matter and has maintained a distance between us like it’s his job. Ensuring that nothing happens between us.
If that’s the case, why would it bother him if I hooked up with his brother?
“You know, I like the power I wield in this chat,” Gavin says.
I wad up a napkin and throw it at him. He catches it quickly and laughs. Then he tosses it on the table.
“Let me ask you a question,” he says. “How is a girl like you even available in the first place, anyway?”
“Oh, there are many reasons.”
“Such as …”
I mirror his posture and rest back in my chair too. “Well, the last guy I dated continued to use the dating app I met him on well after we were supposed to be exclusive.”
“Yeah, I’m not into dating apps. It feels like you’re auditioning for a role. Like, ‘Hi, here are my stats. Am I good enough to fuck, date, or marry?’” He snorts. “I don’t need that kind of pressure.”
“Same.”
“What about the guy before that?” he asks.
I sigh. “Let’s see. The guy before that worked all the time. I don’t mean long hours. I mean, seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day. If he wasn’t at the office, he was thinking about being at the office. And the guy before that was a jealous bastard. That didn’t last long.”
A parade of the men I’ve dated marches through my head. Each of them leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and I can’t remember being in a relationship with any of them where I felt comfortable. None of them felt like they were made for me.