Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 27906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
I love that we love the same shit.
I would love even more if she got “Beloved” tattooed on the other hip.
“See something you like, Imzadi?” she saucily teases, pulling a guilty chuckle out of me.
“I like everything I see, Beloved.”
Heat flashes through her eyes – tempting me to suggest we bail on the planned adventure for a dirtier one – only to – unfortunately – be cut short by the sound of an event host shouting instructions. “The next round of Phaser 10 is now available for sign up!”
Nae flicks a loose ponytail lock away from her forehead and segues, “Shall we?”
I bend my arm in a chivalrous fashion for the taking. “We shall.”
Once we’re linked, we nonchalantly make our way over to the line, passing my security guard – who is doing his best to be inconspicuous as he drinks what I know is not a virgin Mai Tai – and the one she shares with her brother – who is currently doing what he was doing last night when he ditched Bryn except with a Puerto Rican Cardassian instead.
“Your twin’s really…making his way around…the convention, huh?” I mirthfully inquire upon our arrival behind another couple.
You know.
A real couple.
The thing she’s made very clear we’re not despite how much I mentally wish we were.
“He’s really into the whole chicks digging him because he’s a hot nerd versus a stupid rich NBA player.”
“I get it,” thoughtlessly escapes on a small shrug. “I like that feeling too.” Her curious gaze gradually shifts over to me. “I like that you’re into nerdy me rather than board member of a billion-dollar enterprise me.”
“I get the impression I’d be into him too,” she flirts at the same time she curls her frame against me even tighter.
This time it’s me that blushes.
Briefly drops my stare to my navy and white boat shoes.
These have thin brown laces instead of tassels; although, Bryn did call them g-strings.
Pretty sure she is incapable of not insulting my wardrobe.
“From what I’ve seen,” Nae begins again, recollecting my attention, “the activity is basically like paintball but with water guns instead. The point is to stay as dry as possible. Whichever team has the dryer team wins.”
“Sounds simple enough.”
“Ever been paintballing?”
“No.” We inch forward in the line. “You?”
“Champ.”
“Whaaaatttttt?!” I airily chuckle out.
“Twins…means twin birthday parties…”
“Of course.”
“So, to keep things balanced, Gammie had us take turns choosing the activity from year to year. Jer always chose paintballing…even now.” The corner of her lip kicks up towards the crystal blue sky. “And for the service record? There’s nothing more fucking hilarious than watching NBA, NFL, and NHL players whine about being taken out during a sesh by a dancer/cheerleader.”
Laughter shakes my entire frame to the point that even my head snaps backwards. “You are a force to be flown with, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Alright,” amusement gets dialed down a notch to ask, “what is one thing you’ve never gotten to do for your birthday but want to?”
“Paragliding along a Doctenn beach.”
“Wow,” is quickly thrown back into the conversation, “you’ve clearly thought about that more than once.”
“Every year since I was nineteen.”
“Why haven’t you?”
“Athletes – which includes dancers – are typically contractually not permitted to do high risk activities that could result in career delaying injuries.”
Nodding my head is accompanied by us moving forward again. “Meaning we can go now that you’re retired.”
A small bite of her bottom lip precedes her inquiring, “We?”
“I’ve never been paragliding before.”
“No?”
“I’ve never wanted to go paragliding before.” I lean in a bit closer when I add, “But you could convince me to change my mind.”
Which would be easy to do if it means making her smile.
I like the idea of being the one who can do that.
I like the idea of being the one willing to always do that.
Besides, there’s something about her wild child style that calls to me to find my own.
Maybe it’s because I’ve spent most of my life being responsible.
Poised.
Precise.
I like the idea of being more chaotic.
Unpredictable.
Especially with Janae.
“You think you can keep up with me?” she inquires after a silent beat. “Stay on my six?”
“Of course,” is emphasized with cocky pop of my tank top collar as we advance, but unfavorably for me, I trip over uneven sand instantly degrading the arrogance. Talking over her giggles becomes necessary to save any sort of face. “I do work out, ya know.”
Her head falls to one side in a sarcastic fashion.
“I do!”
The lifting of her eyebrows simply reiterates her disbelief.
“I really do!”
Mirth works its way through her expression during her declaration, “You better be ready to become The Little Tech Mogul Who Could out here. We are not going to be the reason Starfleet loses.”
I opt out of acknowledging her lack of belief in my athleticism to praise, “I like that you called me a tech mogul.”
“What else do you call someone brilliant enough to design – and launch – a worldwide app that allows consumers to not only be able to rate and rank their personal Wilcox preferences – both booze and beers – but also track where they’re socially available as well as commercially?”