Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 50770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Quinn coughs. “Yeah man, it gets lit out here.”
“So lit.” He keeps walking toward a waiting black Escalade and all I do is stare while they drive off.
“Gonna make it, or do you need a paper bag to breathe into? Altoids to inhale all the peppermint so your airway opens? Will you need the ER because it’s only a mile that way and I hear Costco has some great street tacos?” Quinn pulls me to his side. “Or just the movie.”
“That”—I have a moment of panic, quickly recover—“was Zane Andrews like one of the most popular pop stars in the world.”
“He lives here.” Quinn nods. “Has been for a while. A dad now. And no, I do not subscribe to notifications from TMZ, I’m just crashing at my rich friend’s place that just so happens to be in the same neighborhood. You know they always say rockstars hit different with the partying, gotta admit all I see are kids running around, lots of super glue—the random kickass water slide and sometimes, sometimes if things get super crazy—a bonfire.”
“Speaking of being on fire.” I shove him. “Your banter, gotta love it, do you always have this much energy or only after near-death experiences?”
“Always.” Quinn opens the door for me and walks up toward the lobby, then grabs my hand in the process. “Always, I mean, in the presence of my savior.”
“Did we just go to church?”
“Did I just get saved?” I counter.
And that’s all it took for me to fall in love with him a little bit, as he buys me popcorn while I buy him Milk Duds on our way to see Jason Statham kick ass.
Chapter Three
Quinn
Play it cool, play it cool, do not be that dick that just like slides his hand across the armrest in an effort to grab popcorn and then oops accidentally grabs her hand.
Or worse.
The idiot that “stretches” and puts his arm around the girl and is like oh my bad, did I actually just wrap my arm around you whilst yawning watching a suspense film?
It was dark?
I was confused?
I had a muscle cramp?
No, dumbass, you’re just an idiot. But see, also, me, hi, I’m the idiot who wants to take both options just to get closer, instead I focus on the movie like the nerd I am and just keep nodding and needing to nearly sit on my hand so I don’t fist pump the air and say, “Damn right, Jason, you get that assassin!”
I sit demurely, like the fucking gentleman I am, and continue to watch while my fingers itch.
My phone buzzes.
Don’t look, don’t look.
It buzzes again.
Finally, I glance down and do actually pretend to stretch to my left and answer the text.
Ambrose
Dumbass. Seriously, you’re so stiff you’re hard, but the bad kind that nobody wants to touch.
What the hell?
I don’t look around.
Ambrose
Behind you, chaperoning, but at least one of us is actually holding a hand that isn’t our own.
Ambrose
Seriously, at this point, I’m concerned, you okay, bro? You good? I mean, I know you had a near death experience, but that girl is super into you and you’re just like… the statue of liberty.
What does that even mean?
Ambrose
Copper, at least I think copper like concrete, either way, do better, I’m disappointed as hell over here, I think you’ve let yourself and the universe down. At least like lean, breathe, exist.
I don’t text him back, just shove my phone back into the cup holder next to the seat and sigh, leaning back.
“Everything okay?” Chloe whispers so dangerously close to my cheek, I nearly die on the spot. When did her lips get that plump and just… edible? Yes, okay, yes, I would bite those lips, not hard at first, softly, then hard once I slammed her against the wall and pulled her hair.
I’ve gone crazy.
It’s the only explanation.
“Errr…” Is all that actually comes out of my mouth. At this point she’s going to think that I’ve slipped vodka into my coke and might pass out between her thighs—hah yay full circle.
She leans closer, putting her hand on the one that’s resting and currently coddling with my other. Her skin’s warm, soft. “Errr?”
I blink. “I was, um… clearing my throat.”
“Ohhhhh.” She nods like she knows. “That makes more sense.” I think I’m out of the woods until she moves her face until those perfect lips are touching my ear. Then she’s whispering, “Do I make you nervous?”
I go so still I am, in fact, turning into the statue. “Never. Girls don’t make me nervous, I’m kind of a big deal,” I turn to her, nearly meeting her lips with mine, then graze the side of her soft cheek. “But if you want me to pretend, I can role play all day.”
Her fingers slide between mine.
I’m so done, I can barely hold on.
I need an emergency stop button like the ones they have in the elevator, can you blame a horny teenager who’s had his heartbroken and nearly died?