Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“I have plans.”
“Oh . . . okay.” Disappointment sounds through her voice.
“What are you doing?” Antony asks.
“I have a date.”
“With who?” Antony asks.
Shut. Up.
“With whom,” I correct him. “And that is none of your business. I’m taking a shower.” I walk upstairs as I hear them continue to chat. I take my time and shower. I make my bed, and I can still hear them downstairs.
Go home already.
Eventually, I can’t dawdle anymore, and I make my way back downstairs. Now they’re all on my front porch, sitting on the steps, and I walk out and sit in the chair.
“So, Bec . . . ,” Antony says. “What’s going on with Logan?”
Her eyes immediately flick to me and then back to Antony. “Nothing.”
“He seems interested.”
“Ah . . . not at all.” She shrugs casually as she tries to blow it off. “He’s just being friendly.”
“Are you going out with Ruby tonight, Blake?” She turns her attention to me.
“No.”
Her eyes search mine. “So someone new, then?”
“Yes.”
She nods, as if thinking over my answer.
“Anyway, I’m going to get going,” Henley says. He gives Antony a slap on the back and then hugs me. “Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.”
“Ha. How can I when the troublemaker will be away?”
“I’m coming over to see Juliet in a minute,” Rebecca tells him.
“Okay, bye, guys.” Antony and Henley disappear, and Rebecca lingers.
Go home.
“I’ll see you later.” I force a smile as I go to walk inside.
“Blake . . .”
I turn back to her.
“Are we okay?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
“You just seem . . . off.”
“I’m fine.” I point inside my house with my thumb. “I’ve got a lot to do. I’ll catch you later, okay?” I walk into my house, and I hear the screen go as she walks in behind me.
“You said last night that you sometimes wish you didn’t live on Kingston Lane.”
I roll my eyes as I walk into my kitchen.
Here we go.
I go to the fridge.
“Blake.” I pour myself a glass of water. “Can you look at me?”
I exhale heavily and drag my eyes to meet hers. “What?”
“And I cut you off, and I didn’t say what I wanted to say.”
My eyes hold hers.
“What I wanted to say was that I would never wish for you not to live here or for us not to be friends.”
I nod. “Is that it?”
“And . . .” She cuts herself off.
“What?”
“And I know we don’t talk about anything important.”
I raise my eyebrow.
“But my conversations with you about nothing important . . . are my most important conversations.”
Her eyes search mine.
“And I wouldn’t trade those conversations for anything, not even your number.”
I nod once. “Got it.”
“Because when you give someone your number, they come and go. And . . . I don’t want you to ever go anywhere.”
We stare at each other.
“Blake . . .” She hesitates, as if she’s trying to articulate herself. “We’re in this super-short window of time where we can be close friends. Because as soon as you meet your future wife, we won’t be able to hang out on weeknights, and you won’t be able to sleep on my couch whenever you feel like it.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s always going to think there’s something going on, and it’s weird to sleep on another woman’s couch when you have a girlfriend.”
Hmm . . .
“And the thought of that makes me sad.”
“Me too,” I say softly.
“But not as sad as the thought of not being your friend and never seeing you again.” She takes my hand in hers. “Me and you are meant to be friends forever, Blake.”
“I know.”
“I just want to make sure we’re okay.”
“You’re being overdramatic. We’re more than okay. Relax, I just wanted to have sex with you.”
“Ha!” She explodes. “How can you have sex with a sore dick?”
“Because I knew it would be the only time you could handle my power.” I grab my crotch. “My thirty percent capacity is equal to a normal man’s two hundred percent. I wanted to give you a fair chance of survival.”
She laughs out loud. “So you’re a superhuman lover now?”
“That’s right.”
“Why are you such an idiot?”
I smirk. “Just stick to your end of the bargain and get me a blonde with great tits for Saturday night.”
She smiles. “And if I don’t?”
“Then we’re not friends anymore . . . I’m done with you,” I tease. “Then we can have sex.”
She laughs and pulls me into a hug and squeezes me, and eventually I put my arms around her waist and hug her back. I nuzzle my head into her neck and close my eyes. She’s warm and soft and . . . strangely comforting.
“Do you really have a date tonight?” she asks.
“I made it up when I didn’t know lasagna was on the table.” I sigh. “Kind of regretting it now, to be honest.”
“Meh . . . I lied. I’m not cooking,” she mutters dryly. “I was going to buy a frozen one.”