Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
"That just because she has never been one in the past doesn't mean she can't be in the future."
"How's this different?"
"Sex toys give you orgasms."
"From what I can tell, so does Sugar."
"Be serious."
"Stop being a baby," she shot back, smiling when my mouth fell slightly open.
I was used to Jamie, the mama bear.
But Jamie could also be the kind of person to give you a smack upside the head when she thought you needed one.
I, apparently, needed a good whack.
"I have never... I don't even know how to do something more than be casual with a guy."
"Well, it's a good thing there is no way to, I don't know, try and work at something to get better, right?"
"You've made your point."
"And yet you're still here."
"I shrieked at him," I admitted, tone horrified. "Right there in the common room in front of his friends."
"Shrieked, huh?" she asked, smirking.
"I was having a panic attack," I admitted. "And he wouldn't just let me storm out. And I was like on the verge of crying. I just... it wasn't one of my finer moments."
"You do not-finer better than most people do finer."
She would know.
Many of those moments happened around her.
"Remember that time I didn't realize Jake gave me Molly instead of the aspirin I asked for?"
"By the time I found you, you had lost all your clothes, and were wearing some dude's fedora and a tie as a belt. A belt that held nothing up because all you had on was a thong," she recalled, smiling. "I think I still have the video of you home after dancing around the kitchen with Hannibal to "'I Believe In A Thing Called Love.'"
"I am quite frankly offended that still shots from that didn't end up as your Christmas card that year."
"See?" she asked, shrugging. "You don't mind making a complete ass of yourself."
"Hey!"
"You're not offended," she shot back. "So what if you made an ass of yourself in front of his friends? Own that shit. Or act like it didn't happen. But don't throw this chance away when we both know you do want it, even if you are scared. Figure out a way to spin it," she told me, patting my hip as she moved past me. "Oh, how did shooting go?" she asked, dropping back down on the couch. The pussy pillows had come in yesterday, and she was a much happier camper.
"Don't cross me," I said, taking my wine down the hall with me. "That is all I am saying."
I dropped down on my bed, letting myself use the bottle of wine as a sippy cup until I felt a warm fuzziness overtaking me.
Then and only then did I reach for my phone.
And it took me almost a full hour before I got up the nerve to write anything. What I came up with sucked, but I tried.
Okay. Sorry for the imitation of The Exorcism of Emily Rose earlier. I don't respond well to being pushed. But let's talk.
Sugar was attached to his phone.
I didn't even let my phone go dark, figuring he would get back to me in a few seconds, and it would be pointless to have to unlock my phone to view it.
But it wasn't a couple seconds.
It wasn't a couple hours.
And as the night got closer to morning with no response, there was a hollow, swirling feeling in my stomach that had nothing to do with the wine... and everything to do with the disappointment building inside.
I fell asleep sad.
I woke up angry.
"Uh-oh," Jamie said, stepping into my doorway. "You know shit hit the fan when a woman is blaring 'You Oughta Know.' What happened?"
"I texted him," I told her reaching up to mercilessly pull my hair into a ponytail. "I owned up to being a crazy bitch. I suggested we finish our talk."
"And?"
"And nothing. No response. That fuck," I growled, yanking Superwoman leggings up to go with my plain black tank.
"Give it time," she suggested. "Kind of subdued today, no?" she asked, meaning my outfit and minimal makeup.
"I am going to the gym."
"Wait... what?" she asked, looking almost stricken. "You? The gym? Weren't you the one who, when I suggested you come workout with me, threw a donut at me and told me to stop fat shaming you?"
"Not that gym. With the treadmills and the stupid rowing machines."
"What other... oh," she said, smile spreading, realizing what I was up to. "Well, have fun," she said as I stooped to slip my feet into my sneakers, then grabbed my bag.
"I'll be back."
With that, I drove across town, parked in the back lot, and made my way inside, hoping there was some kind of class going on. I didn't care if it was advanced and I couldn't keep up. I just needed to hit something, damnit.
"Peyton," a voice called as I stepped inside.