Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
I suck down my disappointment. I’ve had a good day, all things considered. I blew off steam at an amusement park and got some revenge thanks to my brother’s two sexy, charming, protective best friends.
My friends now too. That’s enough of a win.
“It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine,” I add, but Dev isn’t paying attention. He’s tapping away on his phone.
He hits a button and brings the device to his ear. “Hey, Spencer. I need a favor.”
There’s a pause, then he chuckles.
“You guessed it, buddy.”
Another beat.
I turn to Ledger, asking with my eyes if he knows what Dev’s up to. Ledger shrugs a no idea.
“Can you swing it?” Dev asks.
Another pause.
“Excellent. Gimme one sec to make sure this works for my friends.” He covers the phone. “Can you meet at the airfield in Novato at two p.m. tomorrow? Guy I know charters private jets, and he’s got a bird available then. He’ll put it on my tab.”
I blink. Several times. “You’re booking us a private plane?”
“You have a tab? Like, an account?” Ledger seconds, rubbing his ear like he’s heard wrong.
“Obviously,” Dev says with a scoff. “When I moved my parents here from St. Paul a few years ago—they’d gone back there while I was in college—I booked them a private jet to fly with their rescue Chihuahuas. There’s no way Mom was letting Lulu and Virgil fly commercial. They’re assholes, those little mutts. Cute, adorable assholes, but assholes, nonetheless. Does two p.m. work for you guys?”
I want to thrust my arms in the air. Dance on the hood of the car. Shout to the sky. Instead, I simply nod, like I fly private every day. “Well, if it’s good enough for Lulu and Virgil, it’s good enough for me. What about you, Ledger?”
He scratches his jaw, all nonchalant. “I can probably make that time work.”
Dev returns to his call. “Book it.”
10
JUST LIKE SOUP
Dev
Words to live by—when you realize you and your buddy are both into the same woman, you need to talk to him. Especially when you’ve just volunteered as tribute in that woman’s substitute honeymoon.
We’ve got to get some things clear first though. We drop off Aubrey at her apartment in the Mission District. It feels weird, leaving her alone, but she insists she’s fine and I’m not going to press her. She’s a grown woman who doesn’t need a babysitter.
When the door to her building shuts, I check my texts from Garrett for the rental car info. We clearly have other things to discuss with our agent aside from car details, but that’s an in-person convo, so we make plans with him for tomorrow morning.
With that done, I get to the critical stuff. “Want to grab a drink after we return the car?”
“Yeah. I do.” Code for he knows we need to chat too. Just like we did when we met Zahra at a gym in Santa Monica that summer. The second she went into the spin class, I pulled him aside and said, “Let’s talk.”
When the errand is done, we head over to Sticks and Stones, a bar my buddy runs in the city.
Well, Gage is everyone’s buddy. Ledger included. Gage is a former Major League pitcher, who had to retire early when he blew out his elbow. Now, he owns and runs this bar and raises his daughter solo.
As we stride to the bustling counter, Gage gives us a curious once-over. “Okaaay?”
Oh, right. Our clothes.
“Well, it’s kind of a funny story,” I say, plucking at my pancake T-shirt, then glancing down at Ledger’s shoes.
“Yeah, that can’t be anything but a story,” Gage says, then sets down coasters on the beer-soaked wood. “And stories need beer.”
They do. Just like trips need rules.
I’d be nowhere without rules. As an athlete, I’m big on following them. As a human, I’m fond of bending them. But as someone who’s had his heart smashed, I sure as shit know the value of setting them in advance.
After Gage serves up an Imperial IPA for Ledger and a blackberry lime seltzer water for me, I’m grateful our bartender friend needs to tend to another customer.
I turn to Ledger. “About this trip…” But I don’t know what to say, and the rest of the sentence dies on my tongue.
Fortunately, Ledger is sometimes a mind reader. “I know, I know. We need to talk. Your favorite thing.”
Yes. That. Talking. Which I need to do. “Yeah, and I know you’re into her.”
Ledger stares pointedly at me. “Yes, Dev. I’m the only one into her.”
Why am I hiding my brewing attraction? I’m the guy who faces feelings. Who talks through issues. What the fuck is up with me? “Fine, fine,” I grumble, shoulders tight, body jumpy. “I know we both are.”
Ledger pats my shoulder. “There, there. Was that so hard? Want to hug it out now too? We can journal about it later if you’d like.”