Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 97684 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97684 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
He isn't going to kiss me under the stars.
Or lay me on the sand.
Or slide his hand under my dress.
I have to soak this up while I have it. "We can leave if it's not fun."
He looks at me funny. "Since when do you go to strange parties?"
"Didn't you hear? I'm a card shark," I say.
He chuckles. "A what?"
"A gambler. According to Luna. Supposedly, I bet her that the guy would rather dance with me."
"And?"
"I guess she owes me a drink."
"Is that what we're betting?" His phone buzzes with a reply. "Oliver said he'll meet us there."
"Yeah?" I ask.
He nods yeah. "He's into Luna."
"I know."
"She into him?"
"She thinks he's hot, but she knows…"
"That it can't happen?"
"Well…" Yeah, but it's more—"he's not really good for her."
"Who said anything about good for her? Maybe she just wants his cock?"
My cheeks flame. "Please do not talk about my brother's cock."
"I won't. But you should know, he's supposed to be—"
"Oh my God—"
"Massive."
Please kill me now. "Stop."
"Not as big as me though."
My blush deepens. "How do you even know?"
"Rumors." He taps a reply. Returns his cell to his back pocket. "They're gonna get a 'snack' first."
"Oh." Maybe they are going to get a snack. Luna and Oliver both love street tacos. And this is the place to get them.
But what the hell is open this late? Besides the clubs, the Romantic Zone is quiet. A sleepy beach town.
Well, a sleepy beach town with a ton of bars. Some of them must have food.
"If you're sure—" He motions to the car shall we.
I take his hand. Let him lead me to the Uber.
The other guys climb in.
Holden insists on taking the middle seat. He's impossibly cramped in the tiny car.
His leg brushes mine. His jeans against my bare thigh.
God, it feels good. Like heaven.
And I…
I try to think of something else. Of anything else. But my head screams with Holden's cock is massive.
"It's fifteen minutes," one of the guys says.
I nod okay.
We ride over a bump.
Holden reaches out. Places his arm over my chest. To protect me.
He pulls it back. Looks at it like he's not sure how that happened. Like he's not sure what he's doing.
"Fuck." He presses one hand to the roof. "Think I had too many of Oliver's pours. These bumps are a lot."
"Yeah, it's tough. We've been here two weeks," one of the guys says. "We have a trick for it though."
"Oh?" I ask.
"Yeah, we play a game. I'm thinking… truth or dare," he says.
"Are you kidding?" Holden asks.
"No way." The guy shakes his head. "It's great."
"What kind of dares can you do in a moving car?" Holden asks.
"This." Steve motions to his friend. "Mark, truth or dare."
"Dare." Mark plays along.
"At the stoplight, roll down your window, tell the first cute girl you see you want to fuck her," he says.
"Creative." Holden rolls his eyes.
The other guys don't notice his sarcasm. They watch the car slow. Watch another car pull up next to it.
Lucky them, it's a car full of girls. Well, besides the male Uber driver. Is everyone here in an Uber?
He rolls down the window. Makes that roll down, I have to talk motion.
A cute Hispanic girl laughs. Rolls down the window. Blows him a kiss. "Hola."
"Hola." He winks at her then says something to her in Spanish.
She laughs.
He motions to the street. Then our car.
I don't catch his flirtation. Only the Spanish word for car.
"He's inviting her to the party," Holden says.
"You know Spanish?" I ask.
"Poco." He smiles, proud of himself.
God, his smile is so beautiful. And that pride. I want more of it. All of it. I want it directed at me. "Was that your best class in school?"
He shakes his head. "Art."
"Oh. Of course."
"You'd be surprised." He places his hand over mine. "I didn't like taking orders for a while."
"You?"
"Hard to believe, I know." His smile widens. "My first year, I'd do the opposite of the assignment. But my teacher loved it. The harder I tried to piss her off, the more she loved it." He chuckles. "She'd say a real artist innovates. I'm proud of you, Mr. Ballard."
"She called you Mr. Ballard?"
He nods. "You didn't have teachers who called you Ms. Flynn?"
"One. My creative writing teacher. But I, uh… I did the assignment and then some. She'd tell me, Ms. Flynn, I understand you're able to write two thousand words, but I want you to write to the prompt. I want you to try doing more with less. Sometimes, you have to do less."
"Was she right?"
"I don't know." It makes sense, if I think about it. But it's hard to get over my instinct to do more. To do better. To achieve. "Sometimes. Other times… I had those moments. Where I lost myself in the words. That always felt good."
"Better than anything." He nods.
"Than sex?"
"Okay, better than almost anything." His eyes find mine. "You've been asking a lot."