Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Music pounds from the speakers placed strategically around downtown Miami’s newest club Echo, and I look past the red velvet ropes of the VIP section Avery convinced her current boy toy Ben to reserve for us tonight. She’s currently on the dance floor, making out with some guy with long, dark hair that reminds me of that big, muscular dude from Game of Thrones.
I steal a glance behind me, where Ben sits cluelessly on one of the posh black sofas, chatting with a friend of his named Jackson whom I just met when we arrived. Ben has no idea that the girl he’s after, the one who is utilizing his generosity and willingness to cover the very expensive tab, is currently on the dance floor sucking face with a guy she just met.
But none of this is my concern when I check the time on my phone and see it’s thirty minutes till midnight.
I hate myself for what I strategically put into action tonight and for what I’m about to do, but I do it anyway. I had to be sure Avery would be out so I’d have the building to myself.
Uber app pulled up on my phone, I order a ride back to our condo and send Avery a text message I know she won’t see because she’s too busy sticking her tongue down Mr. Game of Thrones’s throat.
Me: Feel a little sick from dinner but don’t want to ruin your fun. Grabbing an Uber and heading home.
I hit send as I’m grabbing my purse and tell Ben and Jackson goodbye. They try to convince me to stay, but it only takes an excuse of feeling like puking for them step clear of my path toward the door.
Once I’m outside the club, I only have to wait a few minutes before my Uber appears, Lance driving a Silver Expedition. I double-check his license plate with what’s showcased in the app and after a short but friendly greeting hello, I climb into the back seat and put on my seat belt.
He heads toward my condo building, and I try to relax as he manages to hit the lights on green at every intersection.
When we’re about ten minutes from home, I open Midnight and scroll through the last messages that led me here.
ThunderStruck: I’m so glad you agreed to meet. I live in the 72 Park Building. 580 72nd Street, Miami Beach. The gym is on the fifth floor.
ElizaBeth: Okay.
ThunderStruck: I’ll see you at Midnight. Right?
ElizaBeth: I promise. I’ll be there.
When Lance pulls his Expedition to a stop in front of the entrance to our building, I have to take several deep breaths just to be able to get out of the car. My whole body feels like a shell of itself.
My fingers tingle, and my legs are numb as I pass through the lobby to the bank of elevators at the back of the building. I have no idea what’s going to happen or how Beau is going to react, and the mere thought of him being angry with me is enough for me to push a different button than I’m supposed to inside the cart. Instead of heading to the fifth floor, I head to the thirty-second, where our condo is located, and unlock and close the door behind me without taking a single full breath.
I walk straight into my bedroom and slide off my heels and little black dress and change into a pair of workout leggings and a sports bra.
I don’t know why, but looking the part somehow feels better.
I grab my phone, AirPods, and water bottle and head back out of my condo without giving myself any time to second-guess.
The elevator is still waiting from my earlier arrival, so I step on and push the button for the fifth floor as fast as I can.
Somehow, I’ve managed to do all of this without running into Beau, and that, in and of itself, is a minor miracle, given our condos are on the same floor. I check the screen of my phone for the time. Five minutes until midnight.
Am I really going to follow through with this? Am I really going to walk into the gym and tell Beau that I’m the woman he’s been talking to on Midnight this entire time?
It sure looks like it, but for the life of me, I still can’t be sure.
The elevator dings its arrival, and I step off, my feet somehow managing to move straight for the gym’s door. I walk inside. The door closes shut behind me.
It’s empty, which is the point of the late hour, but still, it’s empty. No Beau in sight. I fiddle there for a few long moments before walking over to a bench press machine and pulling blindly at the little pin that sets the weights.