Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
“That you were capable of flying in the face of all reason like this, yes,” I said. I reached out and gave his shoulder a little shove, chuckling to myself now. “What am I going to do with you, Casey?”
“You’re going to watch me drink a piña colada, if you stay here,” he teased me. “And you’re going to like it.”
I leaned back on the barstool, smiling to myself as I took another slow sip of whiskey. A minute later, Harlan came over and Casey ordered the drink, and when Casey had it in front of him, he made every effort to show just how much he was enjoying it.
“Didn’t think my night was going to end up like this,” I said. “One moment, a guy’s just sitting at the bar enjoying his whiskey, and the next…”
“The next moment, he’s witnessing me enjoying my drink.”
“I’m glad you like it, Casey.”
As we sipped our drinks I finally had a moment to catch up mentally. I realized that since Casey had walked in, I’d actually been able to enjoy myself and let loose a little, rather than immediately sinking into a pit of guilt about what Casey and I had done.
“So, how have you been?” Casey asked me. “Other than roaming around town yelling at people for their drink choices, of course?”
I snorted. “I’ve been… good, actually.”
His eyes twinkled. “You sound surprised by that.”
“Maybe a little,” I said. “That night at the tree lot really helped me, in a lot of ways, if you want the truth.”
“Helped you feel better about what we did?”
“I think so,” I said. “A bit, at least. It was one of the nicest nights I’ve had in a long time.”
Casey peered at me, a question behind his eyes. “Justin mentioned that you can get a bit lonely around Christmas,” he said softly. “You never said anything about that to me.”
“Oh, God,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “Shit. I didn’t know Justin was aware of that. I try to keep my emotional shit to myself, for the most part.”
“Well, Justin can tell,” Casey said. “He’s good like that. And there’s nothing wrong with emotions. He knows you’re a human being, right? He’s not a little kid anymore.”
“I know he’s not. Hell, he’s already further in his career at 23 than I was for another decade after that.”
Casey nodded. “He was glad to see you happy, the night at the lot.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “I don’t want Justin to worry about me like that. I’m doing fine. I’m always fine.”
My words hung in the air. We lapsed into a short silence, watching Harlan and Sawyer picking out individual oranges from the box and cutting a couple of them open behind the bar. The air smelled like citrus, and I was starting to feel a nice warmth from the whiskey, too.
“You’re fine, huh?” Casey finally asked, breaking the silence. “Fine’s not the same as good, though.”
I looked at him, glancing from his eyes to his lips and back again. “Well, I’m good right now. Is that good enough for you?”
“Maybe,” Casey murmured.
“Every time I see you, I feel better about myself. About everything,” I said. “Even when I open your texts and pictures. So thanks, Casey.”
Truthfully, it felt like Casey had changed my life, in some small way. Maybe it had just been a one-night hookup, and maybe it had been a mistake. But it had meant more to me than I wanted to admit.
When I looked at him now, I felt a longing that I knew would probably never be fulfilled. But he’d reminded me that I was capable of feeling that way, still.
That I was still worth something, even though I’d been alone for so long.
What could be so wrong about that?
9
CASEY
I sipped from the straw in my piña colada, enjoying every drop of the icy, sweet pineapple flavor despite Rome’s adorable protesting.
Why did it always have to feel like magic, sitting across from Rome?
I didn’t care who he was. My best friend’s dad, a random hookup, a stranger. He could have been anyone and I’d have felt like I belonged right here next to him.
The conversation had lulled again for so long that I’d started to think it was over. But I knew I had more to say. So much more, even though I wasn’t even half sure I could put it into words.
I spoke again, my voice still soft.
“I want to ask you a question, and I don’t want you to get mad,” I offered.
“Why would I get mad? Is it about another summer cocktail you want to drink? Because I don’t know if I can handle a low blow like that,” he joked.
“Not about a cocktail, I promise.”
He pulled in a breath. I could see him struggling in real time, and I hated it. There was a silent tension between every moment we shared together, and the last thing on Earth I wanted was for him to be still plagued with guilt about what we’d done.