Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
I bite down on the pasta and it breaks between my teeth.
“Needs a couple more minutes.” I’ve become a much better cook since we moved into a place with a kitchen. But, unlike Hollywood, who can learn a technique once and then run with it, I rely heavily on recipes and precise measurements.
“Don’t think I forgot what we were just talking about,” she says. “You said you and Austin kissed.”
“We did.” I run a peeler down the side of a small cucumber.
She twirls the wooden spoon in her hand. “And? Don’t leave me hanging.”
“And it was nothing. Just a few kisses and a whole lot of misunderstanding.”
“What kind of misunderstanding?”
“Do we have to talk about this now? It’s embarrassing.”
“Um, yes, we do.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m pregnant and I have a craving for something steamy,” she says with a grin.
“That pot of boiling water looks like it has plenty of steam.”
Hollywood pouts. I laugh and then sigh in defeat.
“We didn’t have sex, if that’s what you’re wondering. He didn’t want to touch me while I was drunk, so I...touched myself.”
“You mean, you—” She makes a rude gesture with the wooden spoon. “—in front of him?”
“Like I said, I was drunk. Then I tried to give him head after I sobered up a little, and that ended disastrously.”
“What does that mean?”
“I said something dumb about thanking him for letting me stay over.” I chop the ends off the peeled cucumber and then slice it in half.
She pauses to test another piece of spaghetti, then asks, “Is that why you offered to do it?”
“No. But it figures, the first guy I actually want to fuck would be the one to turns me down.” I begin chopping the cucumber into bite-sized chunks. “We cleared the air this morning, so it’s all good now.”
“All good, as in... ?”
I smooth my lips together. “We kissed again.”
Her smile returns with a vengeance. “I knew Austin was crazy about you.”
“It’s just a kiss, Hollywood. Don’t get too excited. I doubt it’ll go anywhere.”
“You don’t know that. I bet he’ll ask you out on Monday, or maybe he’ll text you tomorrow. No, wait, he’s old school. He’ll call.”
“He already asked me to stay over again tonight.”
“And why aren’t you over there right now?” She turns the burner off under the pasta water.
“I promised I’d help you cook.” I take the potholders from her and wave her away from the stove. “Here, let me do that. It’s heavy.”
“You should have texted me. I would’ve ordered out.” She groans loudly. “What am I going to do with you, Kenzie?”
“You can say, thank you, bestie, for not blowing me off to go get laid.” I strain the pasta through the colander, then transfer the spaghetti into the pan with the sauce so she can toss it all together.
“This isn’t about getting laid. If all Austin wanted was to hook up with you, he would’ve done that already. Face it, Kenzie, he likes you.”
“Then there’s definitely something wrong with him.”
She frowns. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” I meant it as a joke, but I can’t deny the kernel of truth beneath the dark humor. “I’ve never had a boyfriend. Never gone out on a real date. Then the guy I like says he doesn’t want to fuck me while I’m wasted, and I freak out.”
I scrape the chopped cucumbers into the bowl with the salad greens, avoiding Hollywood’s gaze. She doesn’t say anything for a long moment.
“Why did you go out with Jeremy last night?” she asks. “I didn’t think you liked him very much.”
“He’s not so bad.” I’m reluctant to tell her the reason I agreed to go out with Jeremy was to give her and Cal some time alone, because then I’d have to tell her how upset I was by our conversation about me switching rooms.
The doorbell rings.
“Can you get that?” she asks. “I need to babysit the garlic knots.”
I wipe my hands on a dishtowel and then make my way to the foyer. As soon as I open the door, three-year-old Joey rushes past my legs.
“Joseph Caleb Parkes, do not run in other people’s houses,” Teagan calls out. She sighs. “Please tell me you guys are serving something loaded with carbs, because he could really use the crash.”
“You’re in luck. It’s spaghetti night.”
“Perfect.”
I move aside so she can pass with her new baby, Lucy, in the detachable car seat. I almost shut the door on Teagan’s sister-in-law, Mary.
“Oh, sorry,” I say. “Holly didn’t tell me you were coming tonight.”
“That’s pregnancy brain for you,” Teagan says.
Mary smiles. “It was a last-minute invite. Hope you don’t mind me crashing.”
“Not at all.”
As a social worker and longtime friend of Cal’s, Mary has been a continual source of support. After I was found hiding in an abandoned mall a few days after the attack, she accompanied me throughout the hospital and held my hand during the invasive medical exams. I’ll always be grateful for her reassuring presence, even if her presence reminds me of difficult times.