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)
My phone buzzes on the table, and I glance at the screen. It’s Henry. A slow smile spreads across my face as I read his text.
Henry: Don’t forget about tonight.
And I can’t stop myself from responding.
Me: What’s tonight?
Henry: You know what tonight is.
Me: Actually, I don’t. So, why don’t you tell me?
Henry: Nice try, honey. My lips are sealed. Think back to your parents’ bathroom if you need a frame of reference. You, me. Plans. That’s all you’re going to get.
I bite my lip to keep from grinning like an idiot. I can still feel the warmth of his hands on my body from this morning. I already tried to get him to tell me about whatever he has planned for tonight, but it ended with me bent over the balcony railing with Henry’s cock inside me while he fucked me so good I forgot my own name.
Does that make me an exhibitionist? It’s certainly an interesting question to consider…
“So, what’s new in your life?” June’s voice pulls me out of my reverie, and I quickly lock my phone, sliding it facedown on the table.
“What do you mean?”
“I feel like we haven’t really had a chance to catch up. You’re always so busy. We haven’t really gotten any best-friend time since…” June trails off and starts to get tears in her eyes. Clearly, thinking about the thirteen days Henry and I were missing.
“Don’t you dare start with that,” I quickly chime in, pointing an index finger toward her. “Do not start breaking down before we even get our food.”
“I’m sorry!” June sniffles. “It’s a little hard to just get over the two weeks you thought your best friend died, Avery. I have a heart, you know. I’m not soulless.” She dabs a napkin at her eyes, sniffling a little more. “Also, I really think you’re losing sight of our agreement.”
“What agreement?”
“You keeping me updated about where you are,” she expands, and her brow furrows in determination. “Honestly, I think you just need to share your location with me. That would make things way easier than me having to constantly call and text you.”
“You want to track me?” I ask, horrified.
“Yeah.” June nods like it makes complete sense. Like it’s not at all an insane request. “I track Beau.”
A laugh jumps from my lungs. “He’s your husband, Juni.”
“And you’re my best friend,” she retorts like her argument holds weight.
“Yeah, no. I have boundaries.”
June stares at me like boundaries isn’t even a word. Immediately, my mind is reeling over the consequences of sharing my phone location with June. Surely she’d get real damn suspicious if she started to see me at Henry’s apartment every single night of the week.
Luckily, the server arrives at our table, setting down our plates and distracting my stalker best friend from her insane request.
June’s cheeseburger looks juicy and perfectly messy, while my chicken Caesar salad is topped with crisp romaine and grilled chicken. We’re actively eating when my phone buzzes again, but I quickly glance at the screen—it’s only Ethel—and place it back on the table to avoid June’s prying eyes. Goodness knows, if she got ahold of the messages between Henry and me, she’d reach another level of hormonal.
Instantly, guilt sets up shop in my stomach. The mere idea of keeping something like this from my best friend is…hard. I don’t like keeping things from June, and if I’m honest with myself, it’s bordering on hypocritical, considering how upset I got with her when I found out she was in a relationship with my brother.
“June…” I say, my voice quieter than normal as I stare down at my chicken Caesar salad.
“Yeah?” she asks around a mouthful of burger.
My stomach churns as I try to find the right words to express everything I’m feeling, everything I’ve been up to, and all the questions I have about the future. She’s my best friend, and her input is invaluable in everything happy and sad and in between, and keeping the news of Henry from her is only hurting us both.
But God. It’s big.
And juicy.
And so, so uncharted in the territory department.
Not to mention, her hormones are a wreck, and I don’t want to be responsible for a pregnant woman’s public breakdown.
I take another deep breath to ready myself, but instead of steadying, my stomach pitches, the smell of Caesar dressing and chicken hitting me straight in the face in a way I don’t expect.
A wave of nausea crashes over me, and I swallow hard, reaching for my water.
June pauses mid-bite of her cheeseburger, her eyes narrowing as she watches me. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, forcing a smile. But when I take a bite of my salad, the nausea intensifies, and before I know it, I’m bolting for the bathroom, my feet scrambling on the black-and-white diamond tile the whole way.