Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Me: Quiet. Tate wasn’t in either, so I had no friends.
I bite my lip, grinning.
Me: John wanted to make friends, though.
Gannon: No, he didn’t.
Me: Um, yes he did. How would you know? You weren’t there.
Gannon: Because John wasn’t there either.
Oh.
Me: Really?
Gannon: Johnny Boy got sent on a side quest to Kennebunkport, Maine until Monday.
I sort through the day, trying to remember if I saw John or not. I didn’t try to see him. Hell, I forgot he existed until now. But I don’t recall running into him this afternoon. Hmm …
Me: And why was John in Maine?
Gannon: I thought he could use a little time out of the office.
A slow smile slips across my lips.
Me: And that aligned with the dates you are gone, too. What a coincidence.
Gannon: There is no such thing as coincidences.
“What the hell does that mean?” I ask, a flush tinging my cheeks.
I can’t make sense of this information. Did he send John away because he wouldn’t be there and was afraid John would hit on me? That doesn’t make sense. Gannon and I are just fuck buddies. So why would he care?
“Probably just some alpha male pissing contest shit.”
Gannon: What are you doing tomorrow?
Me: My Thursday client canceled. Their whole house is sick with the flu, and most of them are males so you know they’re practically dying. So I’m meeting Tate for lunch and then meeting Courtney to do some shopping. She needs a dress for a wedding, and I told her I’d go help her pick something respectable. Otherwise, homegirl will show up hot but wholly inappropriate.
His response is delayed. After five minutes have passed, I start to consider he might not text me back. I reread my message to see if I’ve offended him, but it seems fine.
“What the hell?”
Finally, his name pops up on the screen.
Gannon: Do you have any plans this weekend?
Me: Who is asking?
Gannon: Me, obviously.
Me: Well, I might be able to make accommodations for you.
Gannon: I’m returning to town on Saturday afternoon, but I need to give a speech at an alumni banquet on Saturday evening.
Me: Does this mean I won’t be sitting on your face this weekend?
Gannon: For fuck’s sake.
I grin, happy that I can rile him up even when he’s across the country.
Me: Well, does it?
Gannon: Therein lies the problem. I want to see you, but I have to go straight from the airport to the banquet.
Me: THAT SUCKS. I could suck, too, though. Just saying.
The pause is longer than before. This time, I know there’s no way he misunderstood anything I said.
“Maybe he’s just busy,” I say after a little while. “He is on a work trip.”
While that is logical and even probable, I don’t quite believe that’s all that’s going on. If something was important enough to require him not to be distracted, he wouldn’t be texting me. Hell, the man continued a Zoom call while I masturbated in front of him.
Gannon: Would you want to go with me? I don’t want to stay any longer than necessary.
I stare at the screen. “Do I want to go with you? In public?”
My stomach twists as I consider his request. It’s pretty ballsy considering we agreed Tate could never know about us. And Gannon was adamant that he’s not the relationship kind of guy, so I know he doesn’t want to risk his brother finding out and making a mess of things when our situationship inevitably falls apart.
“So why did you ask me, Gannon? What’s so important about this event that you would risk someone outing us?”
I nibble my lip. It doesn’t quite make sense. But, at the end of the day, I trust him.
If he wants me to go, I’ll go.
Me: And then I can sit on your face?
Gannon: If you don’t, there’ll be hell to pay.
Me: Count me in. What should I wear? I’m assuming this is fancy since it’s you.
Gannon: Carys, you could wear a fucking potato sack and be the hottest person in the room. Wear what you want. It’ll only be on you for a couple of hours anyway.
Me: I love when you talk dirty to me.
There’s another pause before his text pops up.
Gannon: I need to go. Talk soon.
I glance at my cold grilled cheese.
Me: Cool. Talk to you soon.
Gannon: Good night, Miss Matcha.
Me: Good night.
Chapter Twenty
Carys
Thursday
“That’s not what happened, Tate.” I swallow a french fry and stare at him across the table. “Did you even watch the movie?”
“Yes, I did. That’s how I know what happened.”
“Did you watch the whole thing? Because the very end is when the twist is revealed.”
“Oh, my God, Carys. Yes, I watched the whole damn thing.”
I lean forward and look him in the eye. “The narrator was the same person as the hero—or villain, however you see that character. They’re all the same person.”
“No, they’re not.”