Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
That’s what I like about this girl, fucking magic.
“Well, you find a man that doesn’t treat you right and we’ll make sure he doesn’t sit down for a week ...”
She laughs. “You bikers, so tough.”
“Gotta do what we gotta do.”
We sit and chat for an hour, so fucking easily it’s like I’ve known her for years. I have known her for a little while, being that she’s friends with Briella and spends a lot of time around all of us, but I’ve never spent a great deal of time actually getting to know her. She’s a good chick, and she’s going to make someone really fucking happy one day. I don’t doubt that for a second.
One thing is for certain, I just made a new fucking friend.
And I like her a lot.
“HOW’S BRIELLA’S WRIST?” I ask Aviana as we walk toward a bar after her shift has finished.
Briella fell out of the tree at her eighteenth birthday a week ago, and since then has been moping around miserable because she can’t do anything. After that night, Avi and I started to talk daily on the phone and through text. For whatever fucking reason, we have a connection I can’t understand.
I’m with Samantha, but having Aviana in my life seems to bring me the kind of internal freedom I didn’t think was possible while I was living on this earth.
She does something to my soul—she makes it feel that much better.
“She’s still sulking.” Avi laughs, walking up to a stool and sitting down. “She can’t do anything, which sucks. How is Samantha?”
I grunt and sit on the stool beside her. “Fuckin’ hard work. Gotta wonder why I do it?”
“Why do you do it?” she asks, glancing at me.
A strand of her hair falls across her forehead and down over her mouth and she blows it off with a quick puff of breath. Fuck, she makes even that look good.
“I don’t fuckin’ know, to get laid?”
She laughs. “A man with a face like yours could get laid anytime he wants.”
“Not without puttin’ in the hard yards.”
Rolling her eyes, Avi puts up two fingers to the bartender who immediately gets her two beers.
“You come here a lot?”
She nods. “Every day after work. I like it here; it helps me unwind.”
Honest.
Aviana is the most honest person I know. Nothing holds her back, she just tells it like it is.
“Where is Samantha today?” she asks, taking a sip of the beer when it’s placed down.
“She’s workin’, no doubt finishin’ soon and demandin’ I come on over there,” I mutter, letting the cool amber ale roll down my throat.
“You ought to dump her, Cohen. That’s not nice. Remember what I said about men being nice ...”
I chuckle. “How could I fuckin’ forget?”
She looks to me. “If you don’t like her, you shouldn’t be with her.”
“Never said I didn’t like her ...”
“Do you?”
“What?”
“Like her?”
“Yeah, she’s okay.”
Aviana laughs. “If anyone ever refers to me as just ‘okay’ I’m going to flip a lid, seriously. You should be with a girl that you think of as more than just ‘okay.’”
“Show her to me, and I’ll take it.”
She smiles and then bumps my shoulder with hers. “Men, seriously.”
I grin and take another sip of beer.
“Does Briella know we’re hangin’ out?” I ask.
Aviana frowns. “No, but I don’t see why it would be a problem. She loves all you guys.”
“Nah, it wouldn’t be a problem. It’s nice, not sharin’ though.”
She laughs. “You’re right about that. I like not having to explain to anyone where I’m going and who I’m seeing. You’re like my secret friend. It’s a nice feeling.”
I snort. “Fuckin’ secret friend.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”
I do.
I do fucking like it.
More than she’ll ever know.
“You got a man?” I ask her, glancing at her reaction.
Part of me, deep fucking down, wants her to tell me no, she doesn’t have a man and has no intentions of getting one. But she’s eighteen and she’s fucking gorgeous, there must be men throwing themselves at her.
I hate that fucking idea, but I’m not entirely sure why.
I like our friendship; I like it just the way it is.
So why the fuck do I feel a certain way at the thought of her with another man?
“I’m sort of talking to someone, but it’s not serious or anything. We’re just chatting. He wants to take me out this weekend. I suppose I’ll go, see where it leads.”
“He a good man?” I ask her.
She laughs and gives me a sideways glance. “He’s not bad, Cohen. Not bad at all.”
“You make sure you call me if he shows up and he isn’t a fuckin’ good man, yeah?”
“What are you going to do, bash him?”
I lean in closer to her, and she sucks in a breath. “I’ll fuckin’ take his head off if he hurts you.”
She blinks, slowly, and then smiles. “Well, that’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”