Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Maybe this is what I need. I’m definitely not looking for a relationship with this guy, but he might be able to tick off at least four or more of the requirements on the checklist, so it wouldn’t be a complete fail . . . right?
Shit.
Then without giving myself a second longer to think about it, I swipe right on Colton Fakelastname, and the moment I do, my stomach sinks with nerves. I can’t do this. What if I was only able to be physical with the mystery Vixen man because it was pitch-black in that room? I’ve never had the courage to sleep with a man before that, so what if there’s something fundamentally wrong with me? What if, in a real-life setting, I don’t actually have the guts to welcome someone into my bed?
My nerves quickly turn into a full-blown panic when my phone chimes with a notification, and my gaze snaps to the screen, finding that Colton has matched with me.
Well, shit.
Now what?
Almost immediately, a new message appears in my Tinder chat, and I open the notification.
Colton - Your cute
I let out a sigh. He’s forward, I like that, but he clearly doesn’t know the difference between your and you’re. Though, it’s not as though I’d be meeting up with him to discuss his knowledge of the English language.
Aspen - You’re not so bad yourself.
Colton - It’s your**
The fuck? Is this guy for real?
Aspen - It’s really not.
Colton - HAHAHA I’m just fucking with you. Needed to see if you could take a joke. You can tell a lot about a girl by how she responds to this shit.
Colton - You’re profile says your close and your 22. I’m assuming that means your at the college? A senior maybe?
I scoff, reading over his message, shaking my head at the blatant incorrect uses of your and you’re again, but now I really don’t know if he’s actually screwing with me, or if he was trying to play it off that he was. Either way, it’s not exactly a turn-on. Buuuuut, maybe I’m being too judgmental.
Aspen - That’s right. I’ll be graduating with a journalism degree in a few months.
Colton - Sounds cool. I’m halfway through my business degree. Been a tough week though. Could really use a pick-me-up. What do you say we meet up and let off a little steam?
Aspen - What do you have in mind?
Colton - Your call. We can meet somewhere, grab something to eat or just head back to you’re place. Whatever your down with.
Truth be told, I’m not really down with much when it comes to this guy, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s cute and I’m curious to find out if I’m actually capable of being physical with someone who isn’t a faceless man in a dark room. Call it an experiment.
A grin tears across my face as I imagine what Becs would say to all of this. She’d throw me a wild party and would probably offer to vajazzle my vagina for good luck.
Aspen - Count me in. Tomorrow night work for you? Kinda been craving a good kebab. Haven’t had one in ages.
Colton - Tomorrow is perfect. I know a place about ten minutes from here. I can swing by and pick you up.
Aspen - Perfect!
I give Colton my details, and before I know it, I have a glass of wine and I’m curled up on my couch, ready for a night filled with Grey’s Anatomy. Then wanting to jump straight into the drama, I skip ahead to the double episode at the end of season six and watch as McDreamy goes down.
I’m halfway through when my phone chimes with another text. I dive for it, feeling around in the cushions, not capable of taking my eyes off the screen, only when I hold up my phone and see Izaac’s name, suddenly watching Meredith demand to be shot doesn’t seem so important.
Every bit of my attention falls to my phone, and I shift back on the couch, snuggling up on the cushion, almost too scared to open the text. I don’t know what he could possibly want. He makes a habit out of never texting me . . . apart from the other night. I think that was the first message I’ve received from him in over a year. Either way, Saturday night’s texts were a far cry from anything I’ve gotten from him before. Usually, they sound like Austin needs or Austin was wondering. His messages are never let’s secretly get off together through the paper-thin walls.
A shiver sails down my spine from the memory. Easily the best night of my life . . . right after my wild night at Vixen, of course. Though, I can guarantee I won’t be that lucky again.
Preparing for a random rejection message just to remind me of my place, I cringe as I open the text, but as I read the words, I simply just stare. I’m not really sure what I expected, but it definitely wasn’t this.