Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 41935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 210(@200wpm)___ 168(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 210(@200wpm)___ 168(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
“Okay, but hurry. And remember to pack tampons. I’m going to need them.”
“Already did.”
As soon as I get to the hallway, I take a breath and check my phone.
Will: The home health nurse checked on dad for me. He’s good. Went to his therapies today.
Relief courses through me.
Alice: Great. Thanks for letting me know.
Dad is doing okay. That makes it easier to pretend I care about how glowy Farrah’s skin looks.
I go to my room and get the spray. I’m making my way back to Farrah’s room when I see Dalton coming down the open stairway I’m going up. His gaze darkens just slightly as he looks me over.
“Hey,” I say, trying to sound casual even though my pulse is pounding.
“Hey.” He leans over to speak next to my ear in a low tone. “You look sexy as hell in those shorts.”
His words and the warm brush of his breath against my ear send a jolt of electricity from the tip of my spine to the base. I want to respond, but is “thanks” the right thing to say?
We’ve already passed each other when he calls out, “You’re coming tonight, right?”
You’re coming. You’re coming. Oh God, stop it, Alice.
“Yep, I’ll be there!” My voice is an octave too high, but I’m hanging on by a thread here.
I don’t look back, rushing to get to the top of the stairs and around the corner. By the time I get to Farrah’s bedroom, she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing an impatient expression.
“I need a Brazilian.”
I close the door. “Um...I can try to get an aesthetician here tomorrow.”
“No, for tonight. My vag is still smooth, but I can’t see around back well enough to know if it’s okay. What if Dalton wants to come back to my room tonight? I can’t have a hairy butthole.”
Lord, give me strength.
“The hair all grows back at the same rate, so if the front’s still smooth, so is the back. I have the glow spray.”
“Will you look? Just to be sure?”
I gape at her. “At your asshole? No fucking way.”
“Come on, Al. You’ve seen it all anyway.”
I laugh, not amused. “I actually haven’t seen you bent over spreading your cheeks, and I don’t want to. This is a Meatloaf moment.”
“For God’s sake. Is that the thing where you’d do anything for love, but you won’t do that?”
“Exactly.” I shake the bottle of spray. “Now let’s do this so I can get your makeup done.”
The superyacht taking us on the sunset cruise is a sailboat, and it’s beautiful. Every surface is bright, gleaming white or sparkling silver. Servers are carrying trays of drinks and appetizers, Alex telling them they have five more minutes before they have to stay off camera.
I’m sitting in the small area reserved for the film crew next to the makeup artist, Giana. Misty Meyers is standing with us, all of us chowing on the appetizers Farrah won’t even touch.
“Little wieners are underrated,” Giana says, holding up a small bacon-wrapped sausage on a stick.
“Depends on how much meat you like,” Misty says.
“Meat’s good,” I muse. “But also, little wieners know how to compensate for their lack of meat, if you know what I mean.”
“That part,” Giana says. “My boyfriend isn’t hung, but that man gives oral like it’s his full-time job. He says it’s how he keeps his beard so soft and supple. By just burying his face in my snatch.”
“Jelly.” Misty sighs.
“What, you’re not into any of these guys?” I ask.
She shrugs. “There’s one guy I like, but he’s got his eye on someone else.”
“Which one?” Giana asks.
Misty looks at me. “It doesn’t matter.”
She doesn’t want me to know. This means it has to be...
“Dalton?” My heart hammers just from saying his name.
She shakes her head.
“Ah. JP.”
“Girl, you’re a catch,” Giana says. “Don’t assume he doesn’t like you. Get over there and try.”
Misty’s smile slides away. “I can’t. I’m not...”
Her gaze is on Farrah, who’s laughing at something JP just said, her perfect white teeth on display.
“Hold up.” I set my plate down, giving her my full attention. “I know I didn’t just hear you saying what you’re not. Because you’re here due to what you are. Smart. Generous. A silver medalist in the damn Olympics. A world-class athlete. A beautiful, strong woman who inspires girls every day.”
She gives me a grateful look. “I know. I’m proud of my accomplishments. But lots of men just want long, lean legs and curves and I’m”--she looks down at her body--“all muscle.”
“You’re stunning, Misty,” Giana assures her. “Ninety-nine plus percent of women could never wear that dress.”
I nod. Misty is wearing a formfitting bright-white dress with a halter neck. It’s a beautiful contrast to her light-brown skin. Her red-framed sunglasses and strappy red sandals are perfect accents.
“Where the hell is Meyers?” Alex yells. “She did get on the boat, right?”