Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 145123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
As the shower shuts off, my numbered options narrow even further. I no longer have time to decide; I just have to act. Quickly and efficiently, I slam the door closed all the way, ensure it’s latched, and power walk in the other direction. I know doing this might make Brooke wonder what I heard or how long I’ve been there, but I can guarantee if she came out of the bathroom and saw Batman Boner shining his light at the night sky for all to see, she’d know and then some.
Benji barks from the window, but I don’t look back. For all current intents and purposes, I am deaf. And for the temporary near future, I am gone until I can get myself—and my throbbing dick—in check.
Brooke
A loud bang sounds from the front of the motor home, and it shakes a little as I step quickly out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around my body. On the couch, Benji stands up on his front legs, barking out the window.
“What was that, Benj?”
He doesn’t even acknowledge me, and his bark softens to one low, alert growl.
I’m not completely dried off, but not wanting to miss the opportunity to see what’s going on, I tiptoe over to the same window as Benji, lean into the counter, and take a look for myself.
There’s a small group of people standing at the corner of the town square, but other than that, I don’t find anything out of the ordinary. There’s no sign of Chase—or anyone else I recognize, for that matter—and as far as I can tell, everything looks normal.
Benji has settled now and bumps me with his butt as he turns around and gets cozy on the couch again.
I take one last glance from side to side before letting the blinds drop back into place as a droplet of water from my hair finds its way down my back. Since the feeling of being anything other than fully wet or fully dry at any given time creeps me out, I hustle back to the bedroom and scrub at my skin and hair with the fluffy towel.
It may seem crazy, but I think in a torture scenario, I’d be very weak if you just threatened to make me wear a damp T-shirt.
Once I’m dried off, I put on my normal toiletries—deodorant, perfume, lotion, face moisturizer—and brush through my thick brown hair with a wet brush. It’s tough, even after washing it, thanks to the ten and a half gallons of hair spray I saw fit to put in it before the meet-and-greet today. And for far more than the first time, I wonder how other people learn to do womanly-woman things.
My mom taught me hygiene, how to shave, and that too much blush makes you look like you’re on the verge of having a stroke. But the intricacies of hairdos and real makeup with contouring and eye shadow and sultriness completely eluded her.
And by proxy, it’s not my forte.
In my lifetime, I can count on one hand the times that I’ve done my own hair and had it turn out good or had someone compliment me on my makeup. Usually in photos, I look like a shiny aesthetician whose main goal is to show the world her skin in its natural state.
Heck, I watched fifteen hours of YouTube videos on hair and makeup alone in preparation for this tour, and all it got me was a lion’s mane of brunette locks that hair spray clings to for an eternity despite a washing.
I sigh to myself and turn in a circle in the small bedroom, waiting for a miracle or some sort of scenario like Jenna Rink landed herself in during 13 Going on 30.
When neither occurs, I don my pajamas and peek out into the living area of the motor home one more time. Benji is snoring pretty heavily on the couch now, and the rest of the space sits in silence.
Obviously, Chase doesn’t owe me any kind of explanations about his whereabouts—we’re not a couple. Ha. Keep reminding yourself of that, chickadee. But I can’t help but worry a little bit over the fact that I don’t know where he is or when he’s coming back.
Should I lock the door before I go to sleep? Wait up until he gets back?
I’m not sure, and the more I think about it, the more I don’t think I’m comfortable leaving the door wide open in the middle of the night when there’s a group of strangers not too far from where we’re parked. My family probably knows ninety-five percent of them, but somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any more comfortable with it. Especially after the loud bang while I was in the shower.
Unless this is a horror flick, the bang had to come from somewhere, and it doesn’t include a paranormal entity trying to possess my body.