Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Tears fill her eyes and she falls into my arms. I wrap them around her and kiss the top of her head. The pain I feel now won’t compare to the pain I know she’s going to experience with that asshole. Like how I knew she needed to feel bad for hurting me, she needs to go through with her plan so she will eventually see she had me all along.
Chapter Seventeen
Virginia and I have come to an understanding. Or should I say, I’ve come to my senses. No more visits to the hipster. I was right all along. Love blinds you to reality. I’ve taken off my rose-colored glasses. I might have actually stomped them into smithereens before I climbed into bed with her.
Before you say, “But Hardy, she shot you down,” let me explain. When I decided to stay and support our friendship, I meant it. Maybe it’s the ridiculous notion of it’s better to have whatever I can versus nothing at all if I’d walked out that door. Or maybe despite the bullshit I spew, an inkling, or better yet, smaller than an inkling whatever that is, of hope still exists. A lot like that seed that was planted when I met her it’s there still, rolling around in the dirt that is self-respect. I can feel it like the princess felt the pea, but since it’s me, it’s more like the king and his . . . whatever. You get the drift.
So here I am, lying next to her, watching a romantic comedy that I don’t think is funny at all. That might be because Virginia’s and my relationship resembles the mess I’m watching a little too closely. “Ultimately, she’s still cheating,” I say, pointing at the screen like Meg Ryan will stop her nonsense and break up with her boyfriend before pursuing Tom Hanks. “Oh, her last name is Ryan, like you.”
“We’re not related.”
“Too bad.”
“I know. I could use a vacation to LA about now.” She lifts her head, and asks, “Are you hungry?”
“I can eat.”
Using my chest as leverage, she lifts up and shoots an eyebrow up in amusement. “You did earlier—twice. Once at Kate & Theo and then me.”
“Did you set me up for that lame joke?”
“No.” She laughs. “I’m actually hungry. The food was good but the portions were tiny. Want to go out and get something to eat?”
“You do realize it’s almost midnight, right?”
“Come on. Where’s your sense of adventure, Hardy?”
“Back in Brooklyn where I know I can get a great sandwich in the middle of the night at the local deli.”
“Well I can beat it.”
“Wanna bet?”
“I’ll bet you the food.”
“You’re on.” We flip our feet to the floor and start pulling on our clothes and shoes again. I peek over at her on the other side of the bed. She was lounging in sweatpants and a The Resistance T-shirt she got from their tour a few months back. I flicked the pic of the lead singer that covers the front when she talked about how hot he was live and she felt like he was singing just for her. I rolled my eyes and flicked her again before realizing I had actually flicked her nipple. After she said, “Ouch,” and rubbed it, she admitted it felt pretty good.
That was a happy side effect that I’d love to explore more with her sometime, but since our earlier talk, I need to back off. I also need to be careful or she’ll have me face over fist in deep shit feels for her all over again. So naturally I immediately accepted her invitation to watch the movie with her in bed. That’s where she has her DVD player plugged in. I didn’t even know they still made DVD players. Don’t we just download movies these days?
Guess not.
She pauses the movie and stands up. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be. Where are you taking me?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
She’s so happy that I don’t want to burst her bubble by telling her I really should be going home. I don’t want to burst my happy bubble either. That seed is sprouting from hope to fate, and I believe wholeheartedly in destiny. It’s what I’ve used to guide my own life. Maybe I need to trust in it when it comes to my love life.
The doorman is surprised to see use when we exit the building. As if we’re a couple, Virginia’s arm slides around mine and our fingers weave together and we hold hands. “Your hands are fucking freezing,” I say, surprised her hands feel colder than a witch’s tit.
“Sorry,” she says like she’s not really that sorry. “You’re so warm. God, I need your hands warming my body.”
Big Richard stirs. “Please don’t say things like that. We may have gotten off but I haven’t had sex since I met you and words like warm and hands on your body kind of remind my dick that he’s not slipped into a woman’s sleeping bag in a while.”