Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Aw, fuck.
When I keep reading, I see the one bad thing.
New York.
That’s where I’ll need to be based.
Well, that’s a bummer. I’m a west coast girlie, through and through. A native Angeleno.
Auggie.
He’s standing in the aisle, grabbing our rolling carry-ons from the overhead compartment. As he lifts his arms, his T-shirt rides up and I catch a glimpse of his toned abs. The faint treasure trail of light brown hair I’ve followed many times to the Promised Land beneath his waistband.
I look away, my heart thumping. What will happen with Auggie and me when I accept this job? LA to Seattle is about a three-hour flight, but New York to Seattle takes over six hours. And that’s only if I can get a free direct flight from New York to Seattle with my flight credits, which isn’t always the case. It could be a much longer travel day than that, if the stars don’t align. How often could I reasonably expect to make that trip, while based in New York and working full-time? Auggie certainly couldn’t visit me with any regularity with his schedule. I’ve seen how busy school is for him. For the next two years, he’s going to be in Seattle, working hard to make his dreams come true. Realistically, could he ever come visit me, other than on spring break? Surely, the onus would be on me to make it work between us, long-distance, and I’m not sure I’m ready to take that on.
I dare to look at Auggie again, and this time, his blue eyes are on me. When our gazes meet, he grins. And just like that, I’m thinking stupid thoughts. Stuff like, “Maybe I should turn down this job and look for one based on the West Coast.” But I’d be foolish to turn down this golden opportunity, especially for a man I’ve only just met, basically. True, it feels like I’ve known Auggie forever, but we’ve only just met in reality. And jobs like this don’t come around very often. In fact, a job like this is literally a once-in-a-lifetime thing.
The line in the aisle begins moving in front of Auggie, and he motions for me to slide in front of him. I hobble into place and motion for him to hand me my rolling bag, but, true to form, Auggie says he’s got it.
“How are you feeling?” he asks. We both slept on the flight, so this is the first time we’re chatting since takeoff. He juts his chin toward my crotch area, making it clear he’s asking how I’m feeling in relation to all my piercings.
“Sore,” I admit. “I’ll be relieved when I can finally remove everything after the birthday party.”
Auggie shifts his weight like he’s got ants in his pants. “Same here. Yeesh.”
We both laugh.
We would have taken out our piercings by now, but we didn’t get the disinfecting solution the guy recommended after leaving the piercing place last night, and then we had to speed to the airport at the crack of dawn this morning to catch our flight. Which, as it turned out, was delayed for hours. And now, thanks to that delay, there’s no time to swing by a drugstore before heading to the birthday party. I’m sure we’ll remove our piercings at our hotel tonight, once we get our hands on that solution. Either way, though, we won’t be having sex for at least a week, per the instructions of the piercing dude, so in that sense, it doesn’t really matter if we get everything out tonight or tomorrow, since our fun little vacation in New York will be PG-rated, regardless. I definitely foresee lots of kissing and making out in our near future, though.
The ripple of movement at the front of the plane reaches us, so I waddle up the aisle, gingerly, toward the exit, taking great care not to rub my intimate bits together as I go, while Auggie follows behind, presumably doing basically the same thing. When we exit the tunnel contraption and enter the wider gate area, I say to Auggie, “C texted he’ll be picking us up at baggage claim. Thanks to our delay, he’s able to pick us up and drive us to the party, after all.”
Auggie’s blue eyes widen. “I’d rather take a cab.”
“He’s already here. And it’s for the best, Auggie. Everyone at the party would expect C to come get me. He’s a very chivalrous person, and everyone knows that. They also know our split was amicable, and that C still considers me his good friend.”
Auggie looks stressed, but he says nothing.
A sign directs us to an escalator for the baggage claim area, so we board it together and ride down silently. When we reach the bottom, I say, “There’s nothing to worry about. We’ve paid the money. Our only job now is to confirm our innocence by showing up with happy, smiling, innocent faces. We can do this.”