Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
He warmly wraps his hand around mine. “I’ve already told you, my maybe-girlfriend…”
“Right. I don’t need to apologize.”
“If the money’s a problem—”
“Don’t,” I quickly say, just like I have with Kayla so many times. “We’re doing fine. Very well, in fact. Mom and I are far better off than lots of people.”
Lukas shrugs. “I want to help you if I can.”
I pull my hand away, focusing on my food, the reality of the steak, and not the unreality of a future we shouldn’t even be discussing.
“I know,” he says. “We can’t think past the next hour. It’s too risky.”
I glance at him, at the understanding in his eyes. “You read my mind.”
“Ever since becoming your maybe-boyfriend, I feel so much closer to you.”
I laugh, wondering how rare that is to find a man who can make his partner laugh when, a second ago, profound sadness was gripping me. “You mean literally a minute ago?”
“We move fast, Maci,” he says.
“That’s true,” I reply. “Do you… usually move fast?”
“Usually,” he repeats, shaking his head. “I don’t usually do anything. I had a relationship with a woman who I never loved and who never loved me. Then I focused on my business. The end.”
“Come on, Luke,” I say. “I won’t be mad. I don’t expect you to be a virgin or anything.”
“You won’t be mad?” he says. “I’d be mad, Maci, thinking of you with another man—more than mad. It’s a jealous, hungry, insane feeling. It’s an ‘I need to trash this goddamn place’ feeling. Just the idea of you with another man makes me mad.”
“I must be crazy,” I murmur. “I know most women would find that pretty weird. Maybe want to back off.”
“You don’t?”
“No, actually, I want you to feel that way.”
“Good,” he says fiercely. “Because I felt like that the first moment I saw you. I mean, the new you. The grownup you.”
Suddenly, I wish we were back in the swimming room, and I was bent over the chair with my pants trapping my legs together, with his thick member rubbing against me. I told him it was about Kay, and I didn’t lie exactly, but there was something else beneath that. Nerves like I couldn’t believe.
“So…” I go on.
“I meant it,” he replies. “There was Kayla’s mom, and then not much—a few flings here and there. But not for years, and I always felt seedy after. They always felt pointless.”
“And this doesn’t?” I ask.
“Does it to you?” he replies with a note of anger.
“I asked first.”
“No, it doesn’t,” he’s quick to reply. “Maybe we’re doomed, my maybe-girlfriend. Maybe we were doomed from the first time you played ‘I Spy’ with my dick, but this doesn’t feel pointless. It might just end in disaster. That’s all.”
“We’ll have to make a choice,” I whisper. “Won’t we?”
He nods, sighing darkly, cutting into his steak for a moment, making a screek noise on the plate as though hinting at the mayhem we won’t be able to ignore.
“Yeah,” he says gruffly. “I can’t say I’m looking forward to it.”
“That’s one hell of an understatement,” I murmur, trying not to let myself think about what it’ll mean: either letting my best friend go or letting my maybe-boyfriend go. “The thing is, there might not even be a choice. Once Kayla finds out…”
He looks at me bleakly. “I know. She might choose for us.”
Fear runs down my spine, a tingle I usually only read about in books. It’s like all the stress of the situation culminates in that one teasing trail of anxiety. There’s so much that could go wrong for us, so much that could twist us up, and yet we’re still sitting here, sharing secret smiles, like we’re trying to make ourselves believe it could all be okay.
He sighs. “I wish we didn’t have to face any of it. I wish we could leave and get far away. Forget my company. Forget our responsibilities.”
“Could you really do that?” I ask.
“I think I could forget everything,” he says fiercely. “I could forget the company. I could forget the world, but I couldn’t forget—”
He cuts himself off, biting down like he can’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t need to—Kayla. We could let the rest of the world go and give ourselves to each other—ignore what people say, gold digger and all that crap—but he’s right. No matter where we went or what we did, Kay would always be there on some level, watching, judging, and hating us.
“This is a delicious steak,” I mutter. “Thanks.”
He nods. “You don’t have to thank me. It sounds cheesy, but cooking for you is a pleasure.”
“I don’t care if it sounds cheesy,” I tell him. “The cheesier, the better.”
I try to smile, but it feels so false knowing that, dozens of miles away, Kayla has no idea her boyfriend is a psychotic blackmailer with a fake name, no clue I want to throw myself at her dad, strip myself naked and rub my body against his to feel the heat and passion. The memory of bubbles popping like, soon, our dream will. Pop, and then we’ll come floating back to reality.