Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
“Row!” She slammed headfirst into my chest. Instead of moving back, she clutched my shirt, looking up and blinking at me with wonder. “Sorry to crash, your, er, big day…te? Day or date? Or should I say evenin—”
“This is not a date.” I all but shoved Gia into a commercial oven to bring the point home. “Gia works for Tate, one of my business partners.”
“Oh. Sweet. Hi. I’m Cal!” Cal offered her a hand with a smile.
The doormen reached her, about to wrangle her from my arms.
I turned my chilly look their way. “Lay a hand on my girlfriend, and she will be the last thing you touch, since I’ll chop your fingers off with a cleaver.”
“Sorry, boss.” They both retreated with their palms up, scurrying back outside.
“I’m Gia.” Gia offered Cal her hand with a sweet smile. “Lovely to meet you. Love the pink hair tips.”
Pink hair tips. Pink only symbolized two things—love and vaginas. I was fond of both.
“I love your dress!” Cal exhibited more of that Lab energy of hers. “It’s gorgeous. Where did you g—”
“Dot, baby? Focus.”
“Oh, right.” She returned her attention to me, clearing her throat, her freckled face turning serious. “I…uhm, came here because I have something to tell you.”
This was so fucking wild. “Yeah?”
“But…” She rubbed the back of her neck, gulping. “I’d really rather…demonstrate it to you.”
“I’d strongly prefer to receive any demonstration somewhere private, but I’m not going to stand here and pretend I’ll reject a public display of…eh, demonstration.”
Cal snickered. People began stopping what they were doing to turn their attention to us. I knew Cal absolutely despised audiences, so the fact that she was doing this, in front of the entire world, told me every word that still hadn’t left her mouth.
“Rhy?” She peered behind her shoulder. Rhyland materialized from one of the back tables of the room. He had been here all along? Fucker hadn’t even come to say hi. He wrestled his way past the masses, holding a cardboard box and looking none too happy about it.
“This is why I stick to paid romance gigs.” He shoved the box into Cal’s hands, piercing me with a look. “Get ready to be wood.”
“Wooed,” Cal corrected with a frown.
“Same difference.” Rhy shrugged. “There’s always wood involved for him when you’re around.”
I punched his shoulder. Hard. “You are ruining my big moment, fucker.”
He made a face and rubbed the spot.
Cal took a deep breath, focusing hard on my face to drown out the curious glances and recording phones around us. “I thought about recreating the 10 Things I Hate About You moment when Heath Ledger sings to her on the bleachers, but I really didn’t want to get on top of your new tables. It’s totally unsanitary.”
“I sincerely appreciate that.”
“So instead, here are ten examples that will prove I have always, from day one, loved you. That all I’ve done all these years is fed myself lies and excuses for the way you made me feel every time you were around. I know I don’t make my own chocolate bars from scratch, and I didn’t tattoo you on my skin, but you were always there. The best part of my day. The man to dominate my dreams at night. My anchor.”
She loved me?
She loved me.
“Proof number one.” She reached for the box and pulled out an old Christmas card. “The first holiday card you ever gave me. I kept it.”
“It’s…blank?” I frowned.
She grinned winningly. “Your mom made you give me one, and you scribbled on it to pretend like you were writing something. I still kept it because it was from you. And that made me extremely giddy. Even when I was ten. Moving on. Proof number two.”
She dipped her hand inside the box again, this time pulling out a picture. She held it in front of me, her face bright red. She didn’t like doing anything publicly. She was way out of her comfort zone. For me.
“This is a picture of me and Dylan doing cartwheels in your backyard. If you look closely, you’ll see a hint of your arm on the right side. For years I wondered why I was so attached to this picture, why I keep it in my wallet at all times—we both look horrible in it. It was because of you. Because a piece of you was there, and the reminder of you put me in a good mood every time I looked at it. Proof number three.”
She took out a ticket stub. “This is from when you went to a Weezer concert. I’m not even a fan—although the Blue Album was kinda good, in a totally ironic way. Anyway, not the point. The point is you kissed the ticket when you managed to buy one because they sold out so quickly. I picked it up and saved it, because you had your lips on it once, and I liked the feeling of owning something like that.”