Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
All of it has been so nice, along with my budding friendship growing between Caroline and even Mia and the dozens of other little connections I’ve formed with various people in town.
If only this stupid thing with Jesse wasn’t hanging over it all like a black cloud.
Jesse snaps me back to the moment, nodding toward the guys and smiling a little. “Go have fun,” he says.
“See you later, though?” I ask.
He studies me, eyes twinkling in the warm light of the cabin. “Later. Yeah.”
I subtly brush my hand against his as I head off toward the guys. Caroline is with Jake, Carter, and Maddox. All three of them are laughing about their sweaters, and I’m asked to serve as judge. Caroline, as usual, is looking at Jake every time she laughs.
Somebody brings me a drink–spiced wine, which isn’t really my thing but I drink it anyway–and the party slowly washes away all my apprehension. I spend hours laughing, drinking, snacking on finger foods, talking with the guys, going over plans for the Frostival finale coming up with Caroline, and stealing glances of Jesse.
“I don’t know, man,” Maddox says. He looks genuinely torn up about this as he sucks his teeth and puts his hands on his hips. Behind him, the big Christmas tree in Jesse’s cabin twinkles with light and there’s holly and tinsel strung up everywhere. It even smells like Christmas in here.
“Come on,” Carter pushes. “Tell him, Andi.”
I raise my eyebrows, cup in one hand and no clue what they’re talking about. “Huh?”
Carter sighs. “He is afraid to let me borrow the golden thong for our first game back after the holidays.”
“The… golden thong? Is that like a figure of speech?”
“It’s this gold thong I got as a gag gift a few years back,” Maddox says. “I fell behind on laundry one season and it was all I had one night, so I rolled with it for game time.” He grins slowly, leaning close like he’s about to share a secret. “Best. Game. Of. My. Life. The thong is obviously good mojo. So now I wear it whenever we really need a win.”
“But it hasn’t been working as often,” Carter says. “It needs to be circulated.”
Now my eyebrows might be inside my hairline. “Circulated?” I ask, almost afraid to learn more.
“He needs to let me try it,” Carter insists. “Maybe he used up all the luck for himself, but there could be some left for me.”
“Or maybe you’ll ruin it,” Maddox counters.
“Or maybe men shouldn’t share golden thongs?” I suggest.
They both give me an offended look.
“I’m just saying it’s not the most sanitary thing I’ve ever heard of.”
“I would wash it, Andi,” Carter says. “I’m not a monster.”
“Yeah, he would wash it,” Maddox agrees, even though he doesn’t seem to want to give it up.
The guys devolve back into a circular argument as I notice Jesse heading out to the patio. We lock eyes for a moment, and then the door shuts.
“Maybe,” I say, eyes still on the door. “Just ask yourself what Oprah would do. She’d give everyone a turn. You get the golden thong. You get the golden thong. Spread it all around, like… a golden shower.”
Maddox and Carter both burst out laughing.
Carter puts a hand on my shoulder and shakes his head. “I’m not sure that means what you think it means, Andi.”
I’m still distracted, so I mutter some excuse, set my drink down, and head out after Jesse. I hear Maddox and Carter laughing as I leave.
The air outside is bitter cold. I regret not grabbing my coat, but I see Jesse leaning on the balcony. He has brushed off enough snow to lean without getting his arms wet. He glances over his shoulder, then runs his forearm across the balcony to clear a spot for me to lean.
“Hey,” I say, teeth already clattering.
“Where is your coat?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. He strips off his big, bulky jacket and puts it around me, then drapes his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his warmth. The simple gesture feels like everything after days of distance between us.
“Sorry,” I say, even if I’m not particularly sorry at the moment since it led to this.
“I’m the one who should be sorry,” he says. “I kind of panicked. It’s like I didn’t realize I hadn’t fully closed the door on the Sarah thing until she showed up, but then I couldn’t slam it shut fast enough. Then it felt like you wanted me to double down on us. I…” he trails off, shaking his head. “I want to make it up to you. Maybe a dinner date tomorrow night. Somewhere nice?”
“Really?” I ask. My heart is pounding, even though the prospect of a dinner date shouldn’t feel so groundbreakingly exciting. It does, though. It’s like a symbol–as if we’re taking a step closer to the thing we’ve been skirting around and pretending not to feel. I also feel a touch of guilt, because maybe he’s right. Maybe I was being needy and I really did want him to double down on us after he talked to Sarah.