Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Which is fine. But that means I don’t necessarily have to be extra careful.
Thalia leans in for a kiss, but I break away, pick up her tiny waist, and turn her around so all I can see is her hair. Then I drive into her in one go, hissing when I’m balls in.
“Bailey.”
Thrust.
“Bailey.”
Thrust.
“Bailey.”
From this moment on, we slide into a routine.
Me, pretending she is Bailey.
And Thalia, pretending we’re not a complete and utter mess the rest of the time we’re together.
CHAPTER 12
Lev
Present
Miserable Fact #1,188: The Egyptian pyramids were created to prevent grave robbers from stealing jewels and treasures that were buried with the royals.
After Mel and Jaime come back from the theater, I drive straight to Thalia’s place to break things off with her. There wasn’t much going on to begin with, but I’m no cheater, and I did make a promise to T that we’d be exclusive.
And even though I’d have loved spilling the beans to Bailey’s parents, I’m still holding on to the stupid hope she and I can figure this out together before I have to become a snitch.
Every time I think about my finger up Bailey’s ass—which is every second since I got out of there—my body full-blown shudders and precum trickles out of my stone-hard dick.
I think I had seven mini-orgasms in the time between then and now. I give my cock a hard tug, trying to snap it out of it. Down, boy.
When Bailey said she and I have a shot together, I wanted to believe her. But she was so out of it, I knew it was the drugs talking.
Plus, getting into a relationship with a spiraling addict is a huge, fat no. She needs to prioritize her sobriety, and as much as I want to be with her, I want her to get better more.
Man, love sucks. I hate that people hype it up like it’s a chicken-and-waffles combo. Speaking of shit that sucks—why are smart people so prone to forming an addiction?
Like, I know. Life’s trash. Most humans are dichotomous, single-digit-IQ morons. I get that. But for real. Bailey’s addiction leading me into hoping she might be into anal play is crueler than animal abuse.
I park in front of Thalia’s house and stomp my way to her front step.
She lives in a ranch-style fixer-upper between Encinitas and Poway. It’s by no means glitzy like Todos Santos or even Carlsbad. A small inland town, no glamour or frills.
I know her folks won’t be home because her mom is a nurse who works night shifts and her dad’s a truck driver who pulls weekends for extra cash. Thalia’s older sister, Tiff, had bone cancer when she was younger, so her parents got into crazy medical debt paying for an experimental and successful treatment. They’ve been paying it off for over a decade. Tiff’s a sophomore in college now, so it was obviously worth it, but I get why Thalia is so messed up about money. She grew up with people who had a ton while she had none.
I knock on the door. When she opens it, my jaw drops because holy crap.
She looks exactly like Bailey.
She has the same makeup as Dove today (peachy eyeshadow, mascara, pink lip gloss). And the same clothes (Burberry skirt, white cardigan, and a big hair bow). She’s even wearing the same perfume.
“Hey, sexy!” She balls the collar of my muscle shirt with her fist and tugs me inside. “Thought you’d never come.”
“What made you think I’d show up?”
“Oh, just a feeling you’d need some TLC tonight.” She winks.
Because you were at Bailey’s, Grim’s voice mocks in my head. And she figured you’d be too horny not to fuck now.
Oh well. The least Thalia deserves is a breakup conversation.
We walk over to her backyard, which is basically a patch of turf and plastic furniture, and she lights up a joint and cracks open two tall boys. She looks a little high herself.
“We need to talk.”
She tilts her head, licking a path up the side of my throat. “Cool. Can we have sex first?”
Definitely not.
I place my untouched beer between us, drawing an invisible line. “I think our time has run out.”
“What? Why?” Her eyes are two pools of hurt. Even though we’d agreed it would be casual, I feel like a jackass. They call it catching feels because emotions are like the flu. Nobody ever asks for them, and they show up at the most inconvenient time.
Instead of stating the obvious, I say, “Things are a little complicated for me right now.”
“Is this because of Bailey?” Her lower lip trembles.
Yes. But I pride myself on not being an asshole, so I shake my head. “Not just her. I have to figure out where I’m headed after I graduate, get a plan in place.” This is not a lie. Thalia clutches my muscle shirt, tugging me to her desperately.