Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
She indeed did have chips, two bags of Cheetos — both puffy and crunchy — and she added them to the spread before hanging her hands on her hips in satisfied victory.
“Bón appétit,” she said. When she finally looked at me, her brows folded in. “Oh God, it’s too much, isn’t it?”
I tried to smile, shaking my head. “No, it’s great.”
Her frown only deepened, and she stepped closer, searching my eyes as I swallowed and tore my gaze away from her. I stared at the space between us, my hands tucked firmly in the pockets of my sweatpants.
“You’re not okay,” she whispered.
Again, I tried to smile, but it wilted like a flower in the desert sun. I lifted my gaze, debating over trying to say I was fine.
But in the end, I just shook my head.
Giana sighed, nodding like she understood without me saying a word. “Okay, you,” she said, grabbing my arms and marching me toward her bedroom. “Sit,” she instructed, pushing me until I sat down on the edge of her bed. “Relax. I’ll make us a couple plates. And you pick out the documentary we’re going to watch.”
“Documentary?” I asked with an arched brow, kicking off my sneakers before I sat back against her headboard.
“Yep. We’re going to watch a stupid documentary about something weird and stuff our faces.” She thumbed through to Netflix, eyes lighting up a bit when she clicked into the documentary sub-category. “Oh! Look. One on cheerleading.”
She gave me a look, waggling her brows.
I swiped the remote out of her hand. “Give me that.”
With a smile, she obliged, disappearing into the kitchen. She came back moments later with two plates piled high with a smorgasbord of food, and then she slid onto the mattress next to me.
“Our Planet! Excellent choice, my friend,” she said, popping a Cheeto in her mouth. Then, she grabbed the remote out of my hand, scrolled a few episodes, hit play, and flicked off the lamp next to her side of the bed.
The documentary started, and she kept her eyes on the screen, save for when she reached for something on the two plates between us.
She didn’t bug me about what was wrong. She didn’t pry.
She was just… there.
“Isn’t this… crazy?” she asked me around a mouthful of Cheetos when we were halfway through the second episode we picked. It was High Seas, and glow-in-the-dark creatures that lived far in the depths of the ocean were swimming across the screen. “It looks like it’s CGI. But it’s not. This is real.” She paused, waving her Cheeto about like a wand. “I mean… that’s real. That weird glow-in-the-dark fish that looks like an alien lives right here on the same planet as us.”
She popped the chip in her mouth, shaking her head.
“I know aliens are real. I mean, it would be ridiculous for there to be so many universes and not a single other planet has intelligent life on it. But whether we will ever communicate with them? I don’t know. But this?” She gestured to the screen. “We have aliens right here. We have a whole other galaxy we can’t even fully explore because we can’t dive that deep. How wild is that?”
I smirked, arching a brow at her as she continued staring at the screen wide-eyed and chomping on the dusty orange chips.
She was so strange, and intelligent, and curious, and full of wonder. She was like a child and a grown ass woman somehow wrapped up in one.
Giana must have sensed me looking at her, because she glanced my way before sucking the crumbs off her fingertips and asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”
I cracked my neck, looking back at the screen. “Not really.” I paused. “But… thank you. For this,” I added with a nod toward the TV. “It helped.”
She smiled, a little shimmy of her shoulders telling me she was proud of that. “Good.”
The light from the television battled with the shadows of her room, casting her figure in a soft blue light. I followed the length of it down to her cleavage, the sliver of skin showing above her sweatpants, all the way down to her feet and back up again. I couldn’t explain it, but there was something so comfortable about her in that moment, something that begged to be held.
That beast inside me reared its ugly head, rattling against the cage and demanding my attention. And I didn’t know if it was for her or for my own selfish desire that I did what I did next.
“So…” I cleared my throat. “Now that you’ve made me feel better…” I angled myself toward her, propping my chin on the heel of my hand. “Wanna practice?”
Giana frowned. “Practice?” she echoed around a bite of a pretzel dipped in beer cheese.
When she looked at me, I just cocked a brow, hoping the salacious smile spreading on my lips would be answer enough.