Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Just a glance at him makes my pussy pulse and my nipples tighten. I automatically press my hand to the solitaire, and I avert my eyes.
“So, how was it?” I say.
But Sam narrows his eyes at me. I’m never one for small talk, and right now it feels especially weird.
“That’s some obviously-not-cubic-zirconia you’ve got there, Queen.”
Oh no. Instantly I am transported back to my childhood, and the way my mom would stare at me when she actually caught my hand in the actual cookie jar. That horrible feeling of having done something naughty that you just know is against the rules.
“It’s…” I say, trailing off, searching for some plausible reason why twenty-four hours ago I had no necklace and now I have this necklace, which probably cost almost as much as my violin.
“Alright kids. Let’s get this done,” Mike says. The tone of it, though, it’s very much Sam’s dad, not Mike. But then he glances at me, all dark and broody. The desire in his eyes is pure Daddy.
And my whole body turns to hot chocolate inside.
I busy myself with getting my violin and music, double- and triple-checking that I have everything that I need. I’m just making sure my rosin is where it should be and that I have plenty when there’s a knock at the door, and Sam’s mom comes in, holding Sam’s phone.
“You forgot this, sweetheart.” She says and I feel like the temperature in the room drops twenty degrees.
I’ve met her before, but it was quite a while ago. And it’s clear immediately where Sam got his superpower of sensing emotions and situations without a word.
Her perfectly made-up eyes go from me, to Mike, and back again. And the expression on her face says, Oh I see.
Mike comes between us, and says, “You remember Jess, don’t you?”
One perfectly groomed eyebrow slides up. “I have. But you were just a kid when I met you. And you’re not a kid anymore.”
Another five-alarm blush blazes across my cheeks. I know it’s absolutely obvious to everybody. The curse of red hair and freckles.
“Oh you know,” I say, with a sort of painfully awkward giggle. “Just, growing up!” To which I add a horribly awkward Tony the Tiger pump of my fist. Nice one, Jess. Nice!
I cross my arms in front of me, trying to stop myself from more awkward movements. As I do, I guess I must make my cleavage spill out in some kind of way, because I’m positive I hear Mike growl-sigh beside me.
Sam’s mom inhales slowly. Somehow, it’s quite clear to me that she knows exactly what’s going on between us.
Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.
I turn away, staying as far away from Mike as possible, tying my Converse and doing a quadruple-check of my case and music bag.
Sam’s mom continues, talking to Mike. “Sam tells me you made a big donation to the symphony, which is great and all, but isn’t everybody going to think it’s Nepotism City if he ends up with first chair? Or,” she says, pausing for effect, “if Jess does?”
The words, they fill my body with a weight and a sadness.
I press my fingertips into the velvet liner of the case.
What if people do think that?
I press my eyes shut, feeling an awful rollercoastery sinking in my belly. And I feel myself start to stumble off Cloud 9.
The ride to the symphony is capital-A awkward. I’m in the back, behind Mike, and every time I look at the back of his head all I can think about is how good it felt to run my fingers through his hair as he made me come again and again.
But the more I think about it, the wetter I get, and the more aware I am that my best friend is right there in the passenger’s seat and none of this is okay, none of it.
Mike’s eyes meet mine in the rearview and he hits me with a dreamy wink.
So simple. So small. But more powerful than all the cannon fire in the 1812 Overture.
My phone, tucked between my legs, begins to buzz. And I see it’s messages from Sam. From right there in the front seat.
Sam: WTF is happening in this car?
Sam: WTF is this energy, girl?
Sam: Did my Dad give you that necklace?
Sam: Did you and my Dad…?????
A sting of tears pinches my nose. Never has a row of question marks said so much.
Because yes we did. And yes, I wanted to, and yes I want to again and again. But what if it means losing my best friend in the process?
I’m spared from answering those question marks by Mike pulling up in front of the orchestra building. But my silence, it says everything, and Sam gets out of the passenger’s seat in an angry huff.
“You two? Seriously?” he says, looking back and forth between us, leaning in the passenger’s side.