Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I blush. “Thank you. I tried. And thank you for remembering that I wanted to skate way back then. That’s … slightly stalkerish, but sort of sweet.”
He grins. “You’re welcome. And I’ll pick the adventure if you want me to.”
“Please. But nothing with ice. I think I’ll be cold for a month.”
“No ice. Got you.”
“Then I guess I should get going,” I say, shifting my weight.
Even as I say I should leave, I don’t actually want to. None of this is real, but it’s … fun. When the cameras are rolling, it’s fun to see the other side of him. And without the cameras in the parking lot, it’s nice to have a real conversation without snark and gossip. It’s nice to talk about something substantial. It’s nice to feel seen.
Especially by someone as handsome as Ripley.
His hair ruffles in the breeze as he slips his hands in his pockets. He rocks back on his heel as if he’s dragging his feet, too.
Something in his eyes soothes me, and something in his manner lures me to him like a magnet. I crave the feeling of his arms around me again.
My body hums with anticipation as he takes a hesitant step closer. His nearness sends my heart into a freefall. I’m heavy, and warm, and hear my pulse strumming in my ears as his gaze drops to my mouth.
He’s going to kiss me.
He wraps his fingers around mine and pulls me toward him. His touch is both caressing and possessive, and the combination makes my knees quiver.
I force a swallow and lift on my toes just as a car horn blares beside us, breaking the moment.
Ripley stands upright, and I fall back against the car. I drag a lungful of air into my body and try to quell the scream in my head.
I almost kissed Ripley Brewer. What am I thinking?
“I need to go,” I say, fumbling at the door handle. “Let me know about the adventure, okay?”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Drive safe.”
I climb inside, tossing the gloves onto the seat beside me. Once the door is closed, I melt into the seat. What in the hell just happened?
He steps back and watches me pull out of the parking lot. I don’t look back because I couldn’t read him if I tried.
I do look across the console, however. And at the gloves on the passenger’s seat.
The purple gloves that Ripley brought for me to wear.
My throat squeezes as I turn my attention back to the road.
Chapter Seventeen
Ripley
“I just got back from my second date with Georgia,” I say, a towel around my shoulders as I film my confessional. “I think it went really well. We met at the ice-skating rink and she seemed really happy to see me, which was great.”
“Then, you know what, I’m not sorry for keeping you waiting. Shit happens. It’s not my fault.”
I chuckle, drying my damp hair with the towel. “I took her skating because sports are a big part of my life, and I wanted to see how she responded. She did great.”
But I knew she would. Because Georgia Hayes doesn’t back down from a challenge.
Ever.
She’s courageous on top of everything else, although I’d never tell her that. That was even further proven when she told me about her dad.
“A couple of days before we were set to leave, he got the bill for my tuition at Waltham Prep and he went crazy. He called me like it was my choice to go there and screamed at me for ten straight minutes while I sobbed. Needless to say, we didn’t go on our trip. And I never heard from him again.”
What a fuck.
I shake my head and then pull the paper over and scan the questions Myla sent over.
“I was feeling pretty confident going into this date,” I say. “We seemed to hit it off at Ruma, and I was excited to spend more time with her. I was also really excited to interact with her in a more relaxed environment—just to see how we connected without a restaurant full of people.” I smile to myself. “It was fantastic.”
My mind slips to the end of the date, a place I’ve tried not to focus on too much. Instantly, my heart pounds.
I didn’t mean to share so much of my personal life with her. It just came out. And I never dreamed she would share anything personal with me, either. She makes a point not to do that most of the time.
But there we sat, talking about our dipshit fathers and how they’re both fuckups. We listened to each other. Encouraged each other.
Supported each other.
My throat is tight, so I shut the phone off.
I know this entire exercise is for Sutton. Georgia has made it clear she doesn’t really want to do this with me. So, why does it feel like that might not be true?