Total pages in book: 436
Estimated words: 415303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 2077(@200wpm)___ 1661(@250wpm)___ 1384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 415303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 2077(@200wpm)___ 1661(@250wpm)___ 1384(@300wpm)
I bet he’s balding. Bodie’s hair could stop traffic.
I smiled politely. “Hey. Good job out there.”
“Thanks. I couldn’t help but notice you.”
I laughed patronizingly and pointed at my head. “Yeah, it’s the hair. Kinda stands out.”
“It’s not just that,” he said, slipping a hand around my waist. “You’re … I dunno. Different.”
Johnny was apparently real wordy. And handsy.
I chuckled and put a hand on his chest as I twisted out of his grip, itching to get away. “You’re sweet, but I have a boyfriend.”
He was still smirking. “That’s all right. It’s just mind over matter, baby. If you don’t mind, it don’t matter.”
I couldn’t help but laugh again as I stored that one in my Come-On Lines folder. “I’m sorry. Have a good night,” I said as I walked away.
My heart was banging. I had no idea what had gotten into me. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d turned a guy down who was hot and could move his hips like a fucking snake.
But what nearly knocked me over was the fact that I’d called Bodie my boyfriend. I stopped dead in my tracks as that tingle in my chest worked down my spine.
Wait, what?
It wasn’t like I’d never lied and said I had a boyfriend just to get away from a guy, but that wasn’t what this was. When I’d said boyfriend, I’d meant Bodie. I had thought his name as clearly as if I’d spoken it. I had seen his dimple in my mind like my name was written in it. I’d felt his presence as if he were standing in the room with me.
I didn’t want B-Boy Johnny because I wanted Bodie and no one but Bodie.
I was so freaked out that I barely got to enjoy Annika’s lap dance by the hulkiest black man I’d ever seen outside of a Knicks game. He got so in her lap and in her face that I could barely see her around him. She was half-crying, half-laughing and wholly amused, though clearly uncomfortable. Her eyes were closed for a good portion of the show, which seemed to only egg him on.
I had a sneaking suspicion that it was her first encounter with a stripper, which made it that much better. And I was too busy wigging out to get any mileage out of the jokes I’d been saving up to embarrass her with.
Within an hour, we were stumbling out of the club, heading toward Shep and Ramona’s new place, laughing and chatting along the way. We stopped on our way to get pizza from a window booth, which was the only reason Ramona wouldn’t be puking her guts up all day the next day.
And all the while, my thoughts were on Bodie, just as they had been all night. I didn’t think I’d said more than ten words since we left the strip club, and I used them all to order pizza.
Somehow, I’d found myself in some sort of relationship without even realizing it, and I had no idea what that meant.
Denial was a thing, and I was the queen of it.
For weeks I’d been seeing him, and I’d had no desire to look anywhere else. He was smart and hot. He knew how to work my body almost better than I did, knew how to make me laugh and make me swoon and make me happy.
Peggy was quiet. Probably too quiet.
But from the jump, I’d said no commitment. From the start, I’d said we should talk if we caught feelings.
Clearly, I’d caught feelings, and no amount of antibiotics would save me.
I wondered if that meant I had to tell him, and my stomach dropped at the thought. I couldn’t — not yet. I mean, yet was such a dumb word to use because I didn’t know if I could ever. If I admitted it, it would be real. If I admitted it, things would change. And I didn’t want things to change.
The pizza was like cardboard in my mouth as I walked in the back of the laughing pack.
The real issue was that I didn’t know for certain that he had feelings for me too. I didn’t know if I made him feel as good as he made me feel. Whatever he felt — if anything — he kept on lock. He was totally blasé, super chill, reminding me over and over again that this was all for fun. Implying that it meant nothing.
Me calling him my boyfriend definitely wasn’t nothing.
I wondered just how he felt, if he’d call me his girlfriend if a stripper hit on him. The thought of asking him made me gag, and I tossed my pizza in the next trash can I came across. I didn’t want to know if he didn’t feel the same. I didn’t want whatever we had to end, not until it was inevitable. And the only way it would be inevitable was if I opened my big fucking mouth.