Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“No, I’m obtuse when it comes to most things. But I try to be considerate. Sorry I abandoned you.”
“I won’t have this forever,” he said, like an apology.
“So what if you do?” I shrugged. “You’re not going to be able to stay here forever either. That doesn’t mean it’s bad that you need it right now.”
We made our way to the line where the sand got damp and dropped down, safely away from the waves. He took out the joint and lit it, taking a few quick puffs before passing it to me.
I inhaled and held it, staring out at the rapidly dimming blue dusk over the sea. “This is beautiful.”
“You’re telling me.”
I turned to him. He was looking at me, not the view.
I passed the joint back and tucked my hair behind my ears. “Shut up.”
“It’s my birthday. Let me be cheesy,” he argued.
I held up a finger. “It’s your birthday on Friday.”
“It’s my birthday week,” he insisted stubbornly. “If girls get to do that, so do guys. It’s equality.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s ridiculous.”
“It suits my purposes,” he said tightly, then exhaled.
I thought for a moment while I took another hit. “Okay. Top five things that make you happy.”
He tilted his head. “This place is one of them. Not just the sex part. I like sex, obviously. But it’s the atmosphere of escape that makes it a draw for me.”
“That’s one.” If he’d kept track for me, it was only fair that I kept track for him.
“Seeing other people be happy. Making other people happy.”
“You already mentioned that,” I reminded him. “On the way down. I don’t think it should count, now.”
“I’m not constantly reiterating that to sound like some kind of saint, to be clear.”
“It actually makes your acts of giving less saintly,” I pointed out, wriggling my toes deeper into the sand. “Because you’re doing them for self-gratification.”
“Does that make your blow jobs less saintly?” he teased me.
I took the joint back and tossed my hair haughtily. “Excuse me? I was on my knees.”
“And I was the one praising God.” He thought for a minute. “Was that two?”
“No. Stuff you told me within the last half hour doesn’t count. You’re still at one.” I took another deep inhale. I didn’t know where he got his stuff from, but it was better and probably far more expensive than anything I could get.
“Dogs.” He said it wistfully. “I love dogs. I wish I could get one, but it wouldn’t be fair.”
“Because you work all the time?” I looked around us at the deserted beach, the expanse of water beyond it, the utter lack of desk anywhere.
He got the point. “I do work a lot, but I also travel. That’s going to be a part of my job forever, since travel is my business. I can either get an animal and haul it all over with me—which isn’t fair to other people who have to be around my dog and might not want to be—or leave it at home while I’m off running around.”
“I think you should get a dog,” I said, fully ignoring all his reasons not to.
“Really?”
I nodded. “I like dogs. I can’t afford one and anyway, my dad isn’t going to let an animal shit in his pristine lawn.”
“That’s the other part,” Matt said with a grimace. “The poop.”
“So, you buy some ridiculously genetically engineered breed that doesn’t poop.” I leaned against him and handed him the joint.
He took another hit. “Weed. That’s three. I fricking love weed.”
“Duh.”
“And a good concert,” he went on. “That’s four. I love going to a good concert. It doesn’t even necessarily have to be a band I’m into. I’ve seen artists I love live and they’ve sucked, and artists I never listen to who were incredible. Like The Black Crowes.”
I didn’t know who that was, but I nodded.
“I saw them in…2010, maybe? I only knew one of their songs from the radio, but holy shit, they put on a good show.” He shook his head as if lost in the joy of that memory.
I didn’t point out that I had been in middle school at the time.
“Okay, that’s four,” I said, holding up four fingers. “One more, and you’re off the hook. Although, I have to say, I’m disappointed that you’re way less horrible than I am.”
“You’re not horrible. You’re hilarious,” he corrected me. “And that’s my number five.”
“People being horrible in a funny way is your number five? Or only when I do it?” I joked.
He fell very serious. Too serious. And he reached up to cup my cheek.
My heart stuttered in my chest. His thumb brushed across my bottom lip.
Then, he turned away. “I’ll let you interpret it whichever way makes you happy.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
(Charlotte)
Matt’s birthday party brought a flood of yachts across the horizon. I stood on the bedroom balcony and watched a steady stream of speedboats bringing more and more guests to the island.