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)
“Dark skin and thick thighs are even better.” Portia smirks.
“Guys. Focus,” Ava reminds us, leaning in to the camera on her phone and getting serious. “Harlow. Who. Is. This. Guy. Stop beating around the bush and tell u—”
“Holy shit, holy shit, hole-ly shit,” Portia repeats over and over, squawking so loudly that we all pull back, shocked. “Oh my fucking gawd, I’m dying inside.” She pauses theatrically, flapping her free hand, holding up a tablet. “Harlow. Please tell me that’s you in that picture.”
“It’s probably me in that picture.”
“Go Look. I sent it to our group chat.”
I do.
That picture?
A paparazzi photo that is clearly Landon Burke—and me. There is no mistaking him and me in that booth at the restaurant, french fries and sliders piled high on plates in front of us, Andy’s hands folded on the table as I lean in to hear whatever he is saying over the music.
He is a very poorly disguised Landon Burke.
We’re smiling like idiots and giggling like we have a secret.
Underneath the picture Portia sent, from a well-known social media account, is the headline: Landon Burke in Midwest with Mystery Woman. In Town for a Team Meeting, or in Town to Play? Link to the Story in Our Bio.
“Landon fucking Burke?” Ava whispers. “Seriously, Harlow. How did you not recognize Landon fucking Burke of all people when you met him last week? He is in, like, every other commercial on TV on the planet.”
“I don’t watch a lot of TV.” I sound so dumb that my shoulders slouch. I cannot defend my ignorance of athletes. Not while living in a football city.
Ava is blinking rapidly. “Is this for real, or are my eyes bugging?”
“Even I know who he is, and I’m gay,” Danny can’t help adding.
“Gay people like football, asshole,” I remind him. “You don’t have to rub it in.”
“No, gay people like being social at football parties—huge difference.” He sniffs. “I’m there for the free food and for the tight ends, ha ha.”
“Holy shit. It just occurred to me that Landon Burke went down on you.” Ava is whispering as if Andy could hear her from the other room. “Holy shit. Seriously. He went down on you.”
The last thing I need is her to keep saying it—and in that tone of wonderment, like I’ve accomplished some daring, amazing feat.
Also. It feels wrong somehow that they know this personal information about him, now that they know who he is.
Ugh.
What a clusterfuck. How did the media get a photo of us online so fast?
Seriously wild.
“She had sex with him,” Portia drones. “She had sex with Landon Burke. Landon Burke was inside her.”
I pull a face at her choice of words. “Okay, could you not?”
“You had sex with him today when he got there, didn’t you?”
I blush, giving myself away.
“Oh my God.” Portia giggles somewhat maniacally. “Of course you would find the hottest fucking athlete walking aimlessly around New York City and not know who he is—then have him drooling around after you, then follow you to Bumblefuck, USA, and show up on your doorstep.”
She is being so dramatic, which is so very like her.
“Would you please stop cursing?” is the only response I can think of to say because I’m embarrassed and anxious and want to hide behind the shower curtain from my friends.
Damn that social media post! I wanted to tell my friends who I’m seeing, not have the media do it for me.
Lesson learned: nothing will be sacred after today if I am not careful.
The whole damn thing makes me nervous.
This conversation made it worse.
“Harlow, why didn’t you tell us you were seeing Landon Burke?” Portia asks.
“Because! I just found out! Do I have to keep reminding you? Everyone, calm down.” I’m the one who’s not calm. “I’m still processing too. Don’t make me regret telling you.”
“Don’t listen to her, she’s just jealous.” Danny has his lips pursed. They’re glossy. “When a man gets on an airplane to come see you, that is some serious shit. One day, one week, one month—the timeline doesn’t matter, honey.”
It doesn’t?
“It’s not like he flew across the country, he literally flew here from Ohio.” If my tone doesn’t say how unimpressed by that I am, my eyebrows do. “I could drive there right now if I wanted to and still get there by morning, so let’s not give him any awards just yet for grand gestures. In fact, we could almost say he is crossing my boundaries.”
“Girl, please. No one tells Landon Burke that he’s crossing their boundaries.”
“You do when you didn’t know his true identity!” I laugh. “I can’t believe half the shit I have said to that man’s face. Had I known who he was . . .” My voice trails off, and my face gets red as I recall some of the stupid, cringey things that have come out of my mouth. “Would I have said them if I knew his true identity?”