Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
He looks at me for who I am, but also for the potential of what I could be if I wanted to.
He looks at me like I’m so much more than some spoiled little rich girl.
I don’t know if he’s just passing the time with me or if he feels a growing tether like I do, but for the sake of self-preservation, I haven’t given myself more than a second at a time to consider it.
And I’m sure as hell not going to ruin how good I feel at the moment by giving it brain time now.
“Tell me something no one knows,” I challenge, leaning into the need to learn more about him. For years, I’ve set him aside as my brother’s hot friend, without setting aside space for anything more. I didn’t let myself wonder.
Tonight, all the barriers are down.
“Like a secret?”
I shrug. “It can be anything. A secret. A desire. A nasty habit. Whatever you want. Just something about you you’ve never told anyone.”
“Okay,” he says, humming thoughtfully. “Let me think about it for a minute. I don’t want to let you down with some bullshit like I never put the toilet seat down.”
“You don’t put the toilet seat down?” I wrinkle my nose. “What if I fall in?”
“Avery,” he says through a laugh, and I roll my eyes. Worrying about toilet seats when I’ve been forced to go in the woods with nothing but freaking leaves for toilet paper for the last eleven days is the height of ridiculousness. Still, old habits and high expectations die hard, and I’d rather not drown in toilet water when we do make it back to civilization.
That is, I guess…if we even see each other enough to share toilet seats?
The thought burns my chest as I swallow it down, ignoring it for now.
“Okay, okay,” I say instead. “Think about it, then.”
“I guess…I’ve always had a little thing for Ross and Monica’s mom on Friends. Like, maybe, if they were real, and I had an opportunity, I’d fight Jack for her.”
“Oh my God! What’s the male version of a cougar? A panther? A bobcat? Because that’s what you are, Henry Callahan. Creeping on all the old ladies! Tell me, seriously, are you on the prowl when you go out to the clubs at home? Looking for a senior citizen?”
“I’m not on the prowl for AARP members! But you said to make it weird!” he exclaims through a hearty laugh. “And I’m sorry, but Ross’s mom had this high-maintenance, the ultimate challenge, sex appeal about her.”
“Oh my God!” I shriek through a giggle and pretend to cover my ears. “I didn’t say make it weird, you freaking weirdo! I said to make it good.”
“Fine,” Henry says through another laugh. “You tell me one, then. What’s one of your secrets, if you’re so good at coming up with them?”
I think through all the things I do that people don’t necessarily know about. The old ladies from The Pines I help dress in the latest fashion, the times I’ve volunteered at the soup kitchen in downtown Miami, and the tab I have open at Starbucks for strangers who come in there asking for food or something to drink.
They’re all pretty valid secrets in the shock-and-awe department, but for some reason, I don’t like how serious and vulnerable they make me sound.
I settle for something slightly more in line with the personality I present to the world, but a pretty big lack of disclosure all the same.
“Last year, when I was shopping for June and my mom for Christmas, I purposely got them gifts from Hermès so I would qualify to get offered another bag I wanted.”
Henry laughs, shaking his head. “Well, I guess it’s still the act of giving, so I can’t fault you there.”
“Well, actually…” I wince, outing myself further. “I also made sure the stuff I bought them was stuff I wanted and they didn’t, so they would end up giving it to me.”
Henry barks out a laugh. “Avery!”
“What?” I shrug. “It’s not like the two of them aren’t rich enough to get whatever the hell they want. They both have rich husbands. I’m still living off a quickly drying well from my father.”
“You really are cute, you know that?” Henry asks, leaning forward to kiss the corner of my mouth and slide the strap of my bikini top down my shoulder. The skin underneath his thumb pebbles.
“Oh yeah? How cute? Cute enough to take to bed again?”
He smiles against the skin of my shoulder, and his ever-growing beard scratches at it gently. “Yes…and no.”
“Yes and no?” I question, incredulous. “Those are opposites. You know that, right?”
“I do.” He nods, looking up at me with the sexiest, saddest eyes I’ve seen since he dipped his wick in my ink the first time. “The thing is, I’ve already had your perfect pussy two times today and three yesterday, and I’m worried if I have it a third today, we’re really asking for a problem infection-wise. I don’t want you to get a UTI without a way to treat it.”