Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Your DMs were blowing up. I had to charge my phone five times since that tweet this morning.” I shrug, not sure what I’m supposed to say. “Are you really going to do this?”
“I honestly don’t know what you mean.” I lean back against the counter and cross my arms over my chest and watch her. “Are you asking me if I’m going to go on a date with her? Yes, I said I would.”
“You don’t even know this girl. I heard she’s drama rolled up in her five-foot-ten body,” she says, not missing a beat.
“It’s one date, Can. I’m not getting married,” I tell her, and she just nods.
“Fine, but when it blows up, and it will blow up, I’m not helping you clean up the mess,” she tells me, walking to the table and grabbing her purse.
“I pay you to clean up the mess,” I tell her. “Don’t forget that.”
“Yeah well, you don’t pay me enough. I’ll be demanding a raise,” she says. Turning and walking out of the house, she slams the door behind her. I shake my head and rub my hands over my face.
The dogs follow me, and as soon as we get to my room, they run and jump up onto my king-size bed. My feet sink into the light gray carpet as I walk to the bed and scold them, pointing at their two beds at the end of the bed. They look at me and then walk out of the room to no doubt go lie on the couch. I walk to the dark gray side tables, taking the remote and turning on the television that hangs in front of the bed over the fireplace. I didn’t want anything fancy in my bedroom, but then I came home and found my mother had gone against everything I wanted.
It’s masculine, I will say that, but with a softer touch, according to her. The gray fabric headboard is comfortable when I sit up and watch television, so that is all that matters. The covers are a light gray and look fluffy as fuck, but I don’t make my bed every morning either. I just throw the covers over. I fall into bed when the phone in my pocket buzzes. I see it’s from Zara, and a smile comes over my face, but I have no idea why.
Zara: I’m free to talk if you are.
“Here goes nothing,” I say to myself, pressing her name and listening to the phone ring.
Chapter Five
Zara
With shaky hands, I type out a text I’ve been thinking about since this morning.
Me: I’m free to talk if you are.
I got home from my parents’ house an hour ago, and for the last hour, I kept going over in my head what the hell I did. When he texted me if I was free to talk, I went into the bathroom so Zoe didn’t know I regretted sending out the tweet. It was in the moment, and I’m totally blaming the tequila.
The phone ringing makes me look at the bed where I tossed it when I sent him the text, not even thinking he would be by his phone. I pick it up, and my heart starts to speed up a touch—okay, a lot—and I finally press the green connect button.
“Hello,” I say to him, trying to get my voice to sound as calm as possible, but it so doesn’t.
“Zara,” he says. I sit on the bed, listening to his gruff and deep voice. I’m not going to lie; I spent the whole drive home googling him. I can’t say that I was surprised he was good looking, but he’s honestly the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. His face has a scruff that I like—no, scratch that, that I love. His hair is cut short on the side and long on top, and I could see running my hand through it. When I looked into his brown eyes, and it looked like he was actually looking at me, I knew I was way out of my league with this guy. I mean, the man had a hundred Pinterest boards already dedicated to him. So I might have flipped through them. Okay, I did.
“Hey,” I say, trying to sound casual. “What’s up?”
He chuckles, and I swear my stomach flips. “Not much really,” he says, and I hear the ruffling of sheets and wonder if he’s at home or on the road. “Just getting into bed.”
I look at the clock and see it’s nine p.m. my time, so I ask him. “What time is it there?”
“Just after eight,” he says, taking a deep breath.
“Is it almost your bedtime?” I joke with him.
“Gotta save my energy for you,” he jokes. “Did you have a good day?”
I shake my head and chuckle. “Oh, you know, the normal. Found out my ex is engaged four months after breaking up with me so he can focus on work.” I get into bed and sink down on the pillows and look up at the ceiling. “When if I found out, I kind of went ballistic and flew off the handle.”