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)
His lips pull together to one side in order to bide him a moment to concoct a retort. “Test me again.”
“Least favorite type of food?”
“Korean!”
“French.” Gagging mindlessly occurs. “Why do they have to fucking braise everything or always offer brie as an app?!”
His face wrinkles yet again over his mistake. “Test me a third time.”
“No,” I bite without reluctance. “It’s not gonna matter what I ask, you’re gonna get the answer wrong because you never listened to me. Just like you never really talked to me. You talked at me. You told me about your family. And your wants. And your dreams. And your expectations but never asked me about mine. What happened to my mom. Why my dad isn’t in the picture. What I wanted to do after this portion of my career ended. Hell, you never even asked me if I had any hobbies. You just focused on what you enjoyed us doing and assumed it went double for me, which it didn’t. I could not give a fuck less about bird watching.”
Shock tumbles his jaw to his sandal bearing feet.
“I’m not your person, Wheeler. And if you take a moment to stop chasing me simply because I’m the one that ‘got away’, maybe you’ll actually find whoever that is.” There’s no stopping the smile that slips onto my face. “The same way I’m pretty sure I have.”
Surprise and sadness overthrow his expression, allowing an easy exit to be taken.
Sure, what started out between us was fake, but neither of us can deny how real it’s become.
How real we want it to continue to be.
Especially not after the moment we had in the bathroom this morning.
I don’t think I’ve ever been that honest with anyone other than myself.
And I don’t think he has either.
And I believe that alone is the perfect base to a beautiful relationship.
Weaving my way over to the edge table near the water that they’ve procured requires grace and flexibility due to the fact no one seems interested in moving or being moved – most likely for fear of losing their “golden” spot.
Upon my arrival, I have a clear view of the stage where Bryn is singing a very familiar song in a low, raspy, borderline unemotional tone all alone. “Is she really singing ‘Sexy Back’?”
J.T. lightly chortles. “Yeah.”
“Like a Klingon?”
“Yeah,” he laughs louder while rising to his feet.
“Does she know that it’s far from sexy?” I tease between snickers.
“Eh,” Jer shrugs off, “the fuckboy you used to date sounds worse.”
Rather than allowing for a rebuttal, my fake boyfriend I can’t wait to call real, lovingly cups my face with both hands and presses his lips warmly against mine. Our lips spread in tandem to gift us both a taste of one another, something we haven’t had in what feels like decades. Hints of liquor and mint are met with that of taffy allowing every lash to be filled with answers of what’s kept us apart for past few hours.
And it has only been a few hours in spite of the fact we’re melting into each other like it’s been eons.
J.T. is first to pull back, yet I’m the one who speaks, “Mint Julep?”
“Mint Jaxa,” he playfully corrects. “Gotta stay in theme.”
“Aren’t those traditionally made with bourbon?”
Curiosity cocks an eyebrow. “Yes.”
“Does whiskey know you’re cheating on it?”
Amusement dances around his stare while his thumbs gently stroke my cheeks. “Sometimes on it, never on you.”
Rather than let relief over the proclamation settle in, I nervously inquire, “Have you ever cheated on a chick before?”
“No.” His lips gingerly feather mine. “And I’m not about to start now.”
This time comfort manages to capture hold as one more press lands against my lips.
Claps of approval indicate the end of Bryn’s singing and aid in us separating again.
Afterward, J.T. joyfully states, “I got you something from one of the booths Bryn and I stopped at on our way here.”
“It isn’t jewelry, is it?” Flopping down into the chair he’s pulled out occurs on a defeated sigh. “Because-”
“You don’t really do jewelry,” finishes my pretend other half. “Between what was allowed for your performances and watching Gammie have to pawn off her collection when times got tough, you just never developed an affinity for it.”
“Her last boyfriend couldn’t even spell affinity let alone use it in a sentence,” my brother needlessly chimes in, attention still scanning the themed menu.
Flashing him my middle finger leads to J.T. chuckling prior to proceeding, “I also didn’t do ‘feet gloves’ knowing your distaste for them too.”
“Feet should be free to move and groove about the bridge, Captain.”
Another round of snickers is attached to him retrieving the object from his pocket. “Which is why I settled on this.”
The long red rectangle iron on patch featuring the phrase “Make It So” instantly causes me to clasp both hands over my mouth to catch my gasp.