Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 102683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
I picked up her coffee and the croissant she ordered, plus the extra granola bars she wanted for her backpack on the off chance we got hungry on our way up or down the bluffs.
“You’re welcome.” Is it just me or do I sound like I’m grunting?
“What are you up to tonight?”
“Sundays I usually lie around watching the telly, but I did that last night, so…I don’t know. I haven’t been downtown lately.”
Downtown to the bars.
Kind of fun if enough people are out.
“What’s your favorite?”
“Pub? Probably Nomads.”
It’s a little divey and loud, but they have peanuts in buckets on the tables and it’s usually busy with a fun crowd. Having a pint or two to knock off at the end of the week does my body good.
“I’ve never been there.”
Is she angling for an invitation, or is she simply telling me she’s never been to Nomads? It’s hard to know with females.
Some of them have ulterior motives.
“Wanna come?”
Georgia hesitates. “You want to hang out with me?”
I mean…she’s as good as any of my mates, and less drama, too, which is saying a lot. Stewart and Andy and the lads are great, but they’re so fucking sensitive. And if I hear one more word from Stew’s gob about dating or anyone from the team yapping about rugby on our days off, I’ll go stand in front of a moving bus.
Nope.
Georgia will do just fine as a sidekick.
“It’s Sunday so I probably won’t get pissed.”
She tilts her head. “Does that mean mad or something completely different?”
“Drunk,” I explain. “Trollied. Rat-arsed.”
“Rat-arsed?” she repeats. “Um, that’s maybe my new favorite word.”
That has me laughing. “You can’t just say it whenever you fancy.”
“Whenever I fancy? Love that, too.”
Wow. She’d be so easy to court, or romance, or whatever people call it. Putty in my British hands.
Or not.
Georgia is a hard one to figure out—plus, we have that roommate thing going on.
“What else do you fancy?” I ask, curious.
She shrugs, thinking. “Besides running? I love the water—paddle boarding and wake boarding and…I don’t know. Swimming? Um. Christmas?”
“Christmas is one of your hobbies?”
“Duh, it’s magical. Who doesn’t love it?”
Okay. Moving on… “What else?”
“I love traveling but haven’t had the chance—or the money.”
“Where would you go tomorrow if you could go anywhere?”
“In the United States?”
I nod. “Sure.”
“Vegas.”
“Vegas!?” What an odd choice.
“Is that weird? I’ve never been there, and it seems so fun.” She shrugs. “Plus it’s not that expensive and there’s so much to do.”
She’s not wrong about that—it’s not that expensive and there’s a fuck ton to do, loads of trouble one could get in.
“It’d only take a day or two to drive.”
Indeed; a couple blokes and I drove there when I was a freshman, fresh off the plane from Britain; they tried to hire me a prostitute, too, but I hardly need to pay someone to suck my dick, do I?
I don’t think they realize prostitutes aren’t as novel to lads in the UK as they are in America. The idea of paying to bang made me want to throw up; it didn’t make me hard.
“Where would you go if you could go anywhere? Anywhere at all?” Georgia asks in kind.
Not Vegas, I want to retort. “Somewhere warm.” With a beach and hammocks hanging beneath palm trees.
“Like Florida?” she counters with a laugh.
“Too many tourists. I’m sick of them—that’s why I stay out of London when I’m home.”
“So maybe the west coast?”
I shrug. “It’s not in America, but Greece is warm.”
Her eyes practically bug out of her skull. “Greece! That sounds so…fancy.”
“It’s warm and a stone’s hop from London.”
“What a stone’s hop?”
“I don’t know, ’bout three hours?”
“That’s it? That doesn’t sound terrible…”
“It’s not a long flight and it’s worth it—bluest water you’ve ever seen.” I woolgather, feeling a bit homesick if I’m being honest, remembering the trips we would take around the holidays, Mum, Dad, Jack, and I—down to Greece after Christmas, usually when my brother and I were home from school. “Yeah, I think I’d like to go back sooner than later now that you mention it.”
“Sounds like a dream.” She sighs, probably not on purpose, a far-off look in her eye as she gazes out at the view before us.
I gather Georgie didn’t come from privilege and didn’t have buckets of money growing up, which is why she had to transfer so late in her college career. She had to follow the money because she didn’t have it in the bank and neither did her parents.
So me talking ’bout Greece and her wishing on Vegas…
The two of us sit here a little longer, listening to the birds and the wind and the rustling of the trees. Watching the foursome as they sit at the edge of the cliff, arms around each other.
Georgie removes her baseball cap, pulling the elastic band from her hair. Braids it in one thick rope falling down her back.