Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Harlow: Hey. Guys. I need a second, can you all just . . . stop?
Deep breath. Take a deep breath . . .
Portia: Say what you’re gonna say, girl, before someone else goes off.
Harlow: All right, what I’m about to tell you is sworn to secrecy, not to repeat, is that clear?
Portia: Like what kind of secret?
Harlow: Oh my God, Portia, can’t you just swear to secrecy?
Portia: Not before I know how serious this is because if I have to report it . . .
Harlow: Lol you’re not going to have to report anything, I promise. But I do need y’all to keep this to yourself.
Danny: What did that bastard do?
Ava: This better be a good thing and not a bad thing.
Harlow: Trust. It is? I think. I don’t know, that’s the reason I’m texting you right now. I’m holed up in the bathroom.
Ava: Oh shit, should I call someone?
Harlow: No, my dad is here, and he’s in the kitchen with Andy, I snuck off.
Danny: Christ. This suspense is giving me vapors.
Portia: Girl, no one gets vapors anymore.
Ava: Can you PLZ stop talking so she’ll tell us what she has to say, my lady boner has completely disappeared inside my body.
Portia: That is one visual I did not need . . .
Ava: You’re welcome.
Harlow: Um Hello, kind of in a crisis here? Remember me?
Danny: You’re the one stalling and dragging this out. Holy hell, woman, spit it out already.
Ava: Everyone Calm down.
Harlow: All right. So you know how in New York I asked Andy what he did for work, and he told me he was between gigs? Well, that’s technically true but only because he . . .
Harlow: Oh my God I don’t even know how to tell you this . . .
Portia: I swear to God, Harlow, if you don’t spit it out we will show up on your doorstep too. But at least you have been warned!
Ava: You are so rude sometimes.
Harlow: All right. Deep breath. I’m just going to spit it out. Andy is an athlete and plays pro football. I didn’t recognize him because I am not a sports enthusiast so I guess that makes me a total moron? But he doesn’t seem to mind, and he just went with the flow.
Portia: So what does that mean, he’s an athlete? Like for who?
Harlow: Seattle.
Portia: There isn’t, no one on the team’s named Andy. I would know. I grew up watching the game with my dad.
Harlow: He does. Currently, but he’s, I don’t know, shopping around for a new team. Do they call it that? Shopping around?
Portia: But there’s no Andy on that team. I’m looking at the roster right now.
Danny: Wait. Did he give you a fake name? That’s sus, sis.
Harlow: Well no he said that his parents call him Andy, but it’s a derivative of his actual name.
Ava: Harlow. Are you going to tell us what it is or are you going to keep stringing us along???? Dear God, Woman.
Before I have a chance to give them Andy’s football name, there’s a knock on the bathroom door, and before I can respond to my friends, it cracks open.
Harlow: Shit, he’s back. Got to go!
“Everything all right in here? I thought I’d open this door and have to rescue you, but I see you have other plans.” Andy steps into the bathroom and shuts it behind him. “What are you doing?”
He’s sporting the hoodie he arrived in, completely dressed but mouthwateringly delicious.
“I was updating my friends because they knew you were here. They, uh, were blowing up my phone, and I had to reassure them that you weren’t here to murder me.”
I set the phone on my bathroom counter.
Rise.
Wash my hands to busy myself even though I didn’t go pee.
“Danny’s convinced I should get a restraining order or call the police.”
“Ahh.” He leans against the doorjamb, crossing his ankles, filling the space with his massive, hot bod.
“How is my dad?”
“Getting the grill started.”
Oh God.
“Of course he would want to entertain the famous Landon Burke.”
Andy chuckles. “You still have no idea who Landon Burke even is, stop pretending.”
“Bwhaa, you’re right. I couldn’t help it.”
He cocks his head. “Your dad and Kevin are preparing for a barbecue, and I’m the guest of honor it seems.”
“You know. You can sneak out my bedroom window. I won’t say a word until after you’re halfway down the block.”
“No fucking way. I want to hear all about baby Harlow and see all your cute little baby pictures.” He uncrosses his ankles and stands straight.
“You’re not going to hear about me. Dad is going to want to hear about you.” Let’s get real here.
“He’s got us married and has himself at all future games, all outfitted in one of the suites on the upper level.”
It’s true, and it’ll be embarrassing. My father is a total cleat chaser! The worst of the worst. How am I supposed to subject Andy to this?