Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
JuneBug: Then he isn’t worth it. IDC if he’s my brother. If he’d do that, he’s not worth it.
MayDay: ^ths
JuneBug: Bro
MadMarch: Sis
JuneBug: What’s going on with August?
MayDay: If he hurts our Penny we’ll kill him
MadMarch: What RU clowns on about?
JuneBug: Don’t B cute. We know he talks to you
MadMarch: Which would B private
MayDay: Spill it, DB!
MadMarch: DB???
MayDay: Dirtbag
MadMarch: I don’t think I like your tone. BYE
JuneBug: MARCH! This is serious
MayDay: IKR?
MadMarch: Why R U asking?
JuneBug: Penny *might* really like Augie, you nob!
MadMarch: duh
MayDay: And Augie obvs REALLY likes Pen!
MadMarch: DUH
JuneBug: MARCH!
MadMarch: Ok, ok. Geez. Don’t worry, I already talked to him. Gave him great advice
MayDay: GASP! Noooo!
JuneBug: WHAT DID YOU DO!
MadMarch: Jay-zus. Would you two calm down!
JuneBug: What did we say about telling women to calm down?
MadMarch: Uh. To not to?
JuneBug: Now be a good bro and tell us what you said
MadMarch: Easy. Tell the truth
MayDay: o.o
JuneBug: Good. That’s good.
MadMarch: Obvs. Where’s the trust?
JuneBug: March, it’s Pen and Augie
MadMarch: I know
MayDay: There’s no coming back from that
MadMarch: I KNOW
JuneBug: Sigh
MadMarch: Welp. I’ve enjoyed our time together. Don’t text again until Thanksgiving.
JuneBug: We love you too, broheem
MadMarch: Back at you, witches
MadMarch: Bro Don’t fuck this up
BestLuck: What?!!
MadMarch: just sayin
BestLuck: I’m about to leave. WHY are you telling me this now!
MadMarch: Brotherly support
BestLuck: Go look up support in the dictionary
MadMarch: Remember to think before you speak.
( . . . )
MadMarch: And make good eye contact. Girls like that
BestLuck: I’m blocking you like that safety did to you on fourth & goal
MadMarch: Hey! BS call. I was over the line! What kind of brother are you!
BestLuck: The supportive kind. See what I did there?
MadMarch: ha ha. And you are so NOT the “best Luck”
BestLuck: Scoreboard, fuckface
MadMarch: While UR begging for Pen to luurv you I’m changing our group names to KingLuck and DelusiBro
BestLuck: I’m okay with being the king
MadMarch: I’m the king!
MadMarch: Hello?
MadMarch: Best Luck my ass
Twenty-Five
Pen
By the time August is set to arrive, I am a nervous wreck. I showered, blew my hair out, changed. Changed again. Fiddled with my makeup—too much? Not enough? Dabbed on perfume, then scrubbed at the spot, terrified it would be obvious.
I paced, considered changing again. Did my probably too-tight red polo T and flowing white midi-skirt look weird? Not dressy enough? God! Told myself to stop it. Then went and made spaghetti carbonara. It’s quick, filling, and fuck it, I cannot be relied upon to cook something more involved, or I’ll end up burning the house down.
When the doorbell rings, I literally jump in place, the wooden spoon in my hand almost flying free. With a breath, I turn off the heat on the stove and head for the door. My palms are clammy. Has the route to the door ever taken this long? Or been this short. Briefly, I consider turning heel and running for it.
Gritting my teeth, I open the door. August stands on the threshold, big, tall, and utterly beautiful. Faded jeans hug his thighs with loving care. He’s wearing an old black Boston Museum of Fine Arts T that’s probably a size too small and likely from when he lived back East. But it doesn’t matter. He looks so good. Delicious. All I want to do is press myself up against his long strong length and devour him.
And clearly, I’ve stared too long because he frowns and shifts his weight, as his gaze darts over my face. “Penelope?”
“August.”
A slow smile unfurls, taking his features from beautiful to extraordinary.
For a moment, I’m struck by the reverse in our placements. How long ago it feels since he’d opened the door for me and our relationship utterly changed. Would it do so again? Or fizzle out into nothing.
I resist the urge to press my hands to my chest and simply weep. Pretend for just a little longer. Then it will be out in the open and over. Just like ripping off a bandage.
“Sorry.” I open the door wider. “Come in.”
He does, stepping over the threshold and into my space so that I crane my neck to meet his eyes. Amusement and something softer light his. “For a second,” he says, “I thought we’d be playing the name game again.”
He’s too close. The heat of him warming my skin and making my heart strum.
“Once was weird enough,” I tell him thickly.
August’s lids lower with a slow smile. “Oh, I don’t know. I have fond memories of that moment.”
Does he?
His head tilts as he regards me. “You look gorgeous, Pen.”
“Eh,” is my smooth reply.
“Every time I see you again, it’s like I forget just how pretty you are, and I’m caught off guard by it.”
Why does he say these things? As a lover would. But then gives me a cheeky smile like he’s only being sweet and not to put too much into it.
When I don’t answer, he glances toward the kitchen. “Something smells good.”