Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I hadn’t been back in New York for more than an hour before my bad luck demons had started a party. Silver lining, customs had not detained me.
I retrieved my now-cracked phone from the gum-riddle pavement, then started toward the waiting taxi with the wheelless corner of my suitcase scraping the concrete.
Halfway into the city, I pulled up the photo Vance had sent me of the two of us in Paris. We looked happy. We looked right together… Screwed. I was absolutely screwed. Because like a bowl of half-eaten gelato, I was not finished with him. Nowhere close. I swiped off the photo and went to my email, pulling up Wanderlust’s employee handbook Amanda had sent when I’d started a year ago.
I skimmed page after page until I finally found a subsection titled: Employee Dating Policy.
-Workplace romances are strongly discouraged.
-In the event that employees become involved, they cannot report to one another or be of significantly different rank.
-Couples must keep it professional and not act like a couple at work. Which means no PDA and no fighting.
At the very least, we wouldn’t get fired as long as we didn’t fuck in the restroom. We’d have to discuss that when Vance got back to the city.
A text from Margot flashed across the screen just as the driver merged onto Grand Central Parkway.
Have you landed?
Yes.
Next, she sent a screenshot of Vance’s dick in front of the sparkling Eiffel Tower, a Photoshopped beret on top of his engorged head.
I’m just putting it out there. He could oui oui me with his baguette anytime.
If he wasn’t an asshat, of course. Asshats don’t get to oui oui anything.
I stared at the message, debating on how the hell I would break the news that he had, in fact, ouied ouied me with his baguette. Many times.
Bubbles danced across the screen.
You’re taking longer than usual to respond.
I see your read receipt!
Fuck me! Blake? You didn’t?
I panicked, my fingers typing out a string of words that made zero sense, but before I could press send, another message popped up.
You FUCKED him, didn’t you?
I typed in “yes” and then deleted it.
“Yes” seemed too abrupt. While I debated how to respond, the taxi driver slammed on the brakes, sending my phone flying from my hands. He swore at a truck driver who had evidently cut him off while I nearly threw my arm out of its socket, trying to retrieve my phone from the floorboard. When I finally snatched it up, Margot was blowing up my phone.
I can NOT believe you.
I’m your best friend. You’re supposed to fuck and tell. Not fuck and go hide.
I’m seriously re-evaluating our friendship right now.
You remember our senior year of high school when I banged that hot guy in Bob Freeze’s treehouse? And afterward, I cried because I felt like a big nasty whore.
Bob’s treehouse was the envy of everyone in high school. He’d run power cords to it from his parents’ house. Not only did it have electricity, but it also had a pull-out sofa, a mini-fridge, and a TV. All so he could play Xbox and watch his porn in peace.
You realize I was in the treehouse when you banged him on that pull-out, right?
You and that other guy had fallen asleep on the beanbag.
We had until the creak of bedsprings woke us up.
What was his name? Sapphire? Onyx? Pearl? Some kind of gemstone.
His name was Diamond.
I still stand by the fact he lied about that name.
Who names their baby Diamond?
At least she’d veered away from the topic of me banging Vance. The taxi driver slammed his brakes again.
The point is. I told you.
And we were back.
It’s not even comparable. It wasn’t a surprise when you told me the next morning at Waffle Hut that you’d, in your own words, become one with him. I was there.
So you DID fuck Cock-a-doodle doo?
It was a setup. One I’d stupidly fallen for.
Yes, Margot. We had sex.
I can’t believe you!!!!
You beautiful…
W
H
O
R
E
B
A
G
A picture Vance had taken of his dick from our hotel window in Rome popped up. He’d Photoshopped a gladiator helmet onto its head, a rudimentary drawing of a spear tucked to its side, the Coliseum in the dreary, rain-filled background.
You rode that and didn’t tell me as soon as it happened?????
I was going to tell you in person…
Unbelievable
What did you expect me to do, FaceTime you?
No
A complimentary text would have been sufficient.
And just an FYI, I’m glad you did the nasty with him because that means I win the pot of money Weird New Guy put together at work. No one else thought you two would do the deed.
And you did?
I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. 😍
I’m not a dumbass.
A city tour bus rear-ended the taxi when it pulled over to let me out at my apartment. Thankfully, no one got injured, although the impact crushed the trunk. Which meant my luggage would have to be towed with the car.