Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Men worship me, but it’s only surface-level. They worship my body, which, up until now, has been perfect for my needs. Until that changes, I’m going to continue to live life the way I want to live it. People judge me, sure. But the fact of the matter is, I don’t really care. The only opinions I care about are those of the people who love me. One of my favorite quotes goes along the lines of: everyone has an opinion, just like they have an asshole. It’s kind of become my mantra in life.
I finish the chai tea as I make a couple of tweaks and suggestions to the office design. I don’t have an eye like my mother, but it’s almost encouraged that my father and I make minor contributions. Every time she keeps a suggestion of ours, I think it’s her way of having a little bit of us and her home in each project.
“Any recent conquests?” my mother asks, and she always purposely does it in front of my father. It’s been an ongoing joke for years now to make him uncomfortable with those types of questions. He groans in complaint.
Out of nowhere, the memory of Hawke between my legs flashes into my mind, and I’m quick to push it away. I haven’t seen him since he broke into my apartment. And I’ve been doing my best to avoid him, simply for the fact that I can’t get him out of my head, which is torturous and all-consuming. I sometimes contemplate making a friends-with-benefits arrangement with him, but I feel if I say anything, it will boost his ego even more. And anyone who meets him already knows how big his ego is, and he doesn’t need anyone to stroke it for him.
I’ve also managed to keep myself from hacking into cameras again, not only because he knows I was doing it but because I think I need to separate myself from him.
“I think it’s actually getting serious with a guy I recently met. He enjoys bird watching,” I deadpan, and my mother and I look at my father, who pales.
“A what?” he grits out in his thick British accent.
I try to keep my expression neutral.
“You know. Like, he’ll go and watch birds for hours and take photos of them; he also made me this super-cute friendship bracelet. So, I’m pretty sure it’s escalating quickly. He doesn’t want to have sex before marriage, so maybe we’ll have a quick wedding, you know?”
“You’re fucking with me again, aren’t you.” His frantic gaze bounces between me and my mother, both of us trying not to break out into laughter.
“Maybe we should start picking out dresses,” she says, nodding agreeably.
“Over my dead body. You two think you’re so funny, but you’re not,” he grumbles as he leaves the room.
My mother and I look at each other and begin to laugh. “It’s just too easy,” I say, wiping away a tear.
She taps the tablet’s stylus on her chin. “Maybe next time we should go with a cowboy theme. Nothing will put a bee in his bonnet more than a countryman trying to take his little girl to the middle of nowhere on a farm.”
I can’t help but laugh as I spring off the chair when my father walks in with a basket of my clothes and places it on the counter.
My mother likes to iron clothes. I’m not really sure why. My father tells me to let her do it when they’re in town because it makes her feel more involved in my life. They don’t have to twist my arm to let her take of a chore I abhor anyway, so it’s become an excuse for me to come back home whenever I please, not that I really need one.
“Oh, there’s a small pile I have to iron quickly. One second,” my mother says as she hurries out of the room.
“You look beautiful, by the way. Where are you off to?” Dad says to me.
“A party. One of the girls I went to college with invited me. Good way to spend a Friday night,” I reply.
“Don’t let your mother pressure you into thinking you need a man because you don’t. If anything, I’d prefer you remain single for the rest of your days.”
I sarcastically nod my head. “Absolutely. It’s why I’ve sworn to remain a virgin.”
He cringes at how casually I say it, and I can’t help but laugh. I love riling him up like this. It’s ironic because he tends to push everyone else’s buttons—forever a smartass—and yet my mother and I beat him at his own game.
“Be safe tonight,” he says, the same way he has since I was old enough to party.
I’ve never given them a reason not to trust me, even when I was younger. Sure, I’ve been impulsive when it came to some things, but nothing they haven’t thought I couldn’t handle myself. “Come over for dinner Sunday night before your mother and I fly out.”