Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Kevin, such a trooper, nods, even though it’s obvious I’ve decimated his heart. “It’s okay. I understand.”
Shit. Now I feel like a right wanker.
“Look,” I say to him, pasting a smile on my face. “A little birdie told me all about LARPing. What if I take you to one of the all-day events they have at Beacon Hill?”
My dad groans. I ignore him.
“Are you serious?” Kevin asks, his face lighting up like the fourth of July. “Will you dress up?”
“Of course.”
“Will you bring your girlfriend?”
I tilt my head. “Um, probably not.”
“I want to see you with your girlfriend.”
I study him closely. Is it possible he actually doesn’t believe me and wants proof? Am I that untrustworthy?
Well, Amanda is a giant nerd. She’d probably be thrilled. Maybe not about the fake girlfriend part, but the whole costumes and casting spells and pretending you’re an elf necromancer named Whren the White, with ivory tits the size of hippos, who might wear nothing else under her corset. Hmmm. I may have looked up some LARPing porn while I was researching.
With a reassuring smile I say, “Sure. I’ll bring my girlfriend. You just look into when it is and we’ll make a plan. Okay? I promise.”
Even though Kevin leaves happy, I leave the shop feeling seriously deflated. I hop in Mr. Mean and drive straight to Amanda’s house, texting her when I’m outside.
She texts back: You’re early! Hey, Ana is out for the night on a date if you want to come in.
Amanda is seriously inviting me in? I know she’s talking about it from a work perspective, but even so, my cock twitches in my pants.
“Oh behave,” I hiss at it as I get out of the car and stroll down the driveway to her basement suite.
She opens the door looking absolutely fresh-faced, her hair damp and pulled back into a low braid like she’s just stepped out of the shower.
“Hi,” she says, smiling broadly as if she’s truly happy to see me.
Her smile creates a reflex in me, like yawning, and I’m grinning back at her. In fact, I think a few heady seconds swing past with us just standing in the doorway, staring at each other and smiling like dorks.
She breaks away first and clears her throat. “Come on in.” She opens the door wider and gestures widely with her arms. “Your first proper tour of mi casa.”
“You know, sometimes I miss having a roommate,” I muse as I step inside. The basement suite is pretty bright considering and the walls are done up in yellow and lavender, a total chick pad. I’d been here briefly before, but now I have a chance to take everything in. The living room and kitchen are pretty typical, though the place looks a lot neater than I would have imagined.
“She’s entertaining, that’s for sure,” Amanda says, heading for the fridge and looking inside. “I feel like I should offer you something, but all we have is orange juice and Estonian vodka.”
“Maybe later,” I say. “Show me your room.”
A bashful smile curves on her lips. “This feels so high school.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t try and fingerbang you while we listen to Maroon Five.”
“Such a romantic,” she mutters dryly, heading for her door.
“That’s your job,” I remind her, following right behind.
Amanda’s room is exactly how I imagined it. And yes, I’ve imagined it. I’ve imagined it with the both of us in it in a hundred different positions. My favorite happens to be when she dresses up as Rey before I plunge Kylo Ren’s lightsaber inside her.
There’s art of Reylo on one wall, and though I don’t see any sign of a lightsaber, she does have a plaque about the force hanging above her bed. On her bedside table there’s a TARDIS alarm clock and a giant Loki figurine made up in Tom Hiddleston’s likeness. There’s also a giant framed map of Middle Earth that must have cost a fortune, as well as what appears to be signed photos of the cast of Firefly, Sherlock (with my nemesis Benedict Cumberbatch), and one of George R. R. Martin.
“Ummm,” I say, pointing at the photos before getting a closer look. “How did you manage to get these signed?”
She shrugs. “Ebay.” Her eyes glance down and she smiles shyly. “So now you know how big of a dork I am.”
“Peach, I already knew that the moment you first walked into the classroom. You were wearing a hoodie that said Straight Outta Hogwarts. Why do you think I took such a shine to you?”
“You were an asshole. That was you taking a shine to me?” She throws up her hands. “That’s it. I really don’t understand guys.”
I take a few steps toward her until I’m just a foot away. Up close I can see her pulse in her throat, the way her eyes take me in until they’re nearly brimming with something so vivid and wild that it’s hard to look away.