Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
There had been plenty of almosts. Row purchased tickets for me once, a couple years ago, but Grav got a nasty ear infection and had to be nursed twenty-four seven.
A year ago, I decided to splurge and bought two tickets for me and a friend. But the friend’s mother was hospitalized the same day. I had no backup to go with, so we ended up selling them.
“Are you still a big jackass?” I retorted. At this point, I was being mean to him just to remind myself he was off-limits, because that red line? It was blurring with each minute he spent with us.
“Huge, like everything else about me.” Rhyland clucked his tongue. “Retiring from my fake-boyfriend business and quitting pot definitely gave me less room to misbehave, though. I still enjoy going out, drinking, a good fucking shopping spree. I’ve never really understood why men are so butt-hurt about going shopping—I love new shit. But I’m no longer unabashedly self-indulgent. I guess I’m in a phase where I’m trying to prove to myself and others that there’s more to my existence than being hot as shit and fucking like a rock star.”
“Don’t forget being humble,” I snorted, punching in the code to unlock the entrance door of our building. “By the way, I’ve always suspected rock stars are shit in bed, what with all the coke and alcohol pumping through their veins.”
“I once hooked up with an American Idol contestant. She was pretty good. Stole my anal beads, though,” Rhyland muttered bitterly.
“Hardly a rock star, Rhy.” I suppressed a smile, pushing the elevator door and walking inside.
I’d kind of come to terms with the fact that we’d never be able to have a full five-minute conversation without bringing up sex.
“Hey, do you wanna see a mock-up of App-date?” For the first time ever, he sounded boyish, unsure. “It’s pretty cool. You get to browse profiles of fictive AI users.”
“Isn’t AI super unethical?”
“Yeah, but, well…so am I.”
This time, I did laugh.
“Honestly.” He bristled. “Be thankful it’s AI and not a trafficking ring or some shit.”
“Sure. You can show me.” As much as I hated to admit it, I was enjoying our truce. It was exhausting trying to hate the man just for rejecting me eight years ago.
The elevator door slid open. He stood there waiting for me in the hallway on the other side, looking fifty shades of perfect. Gray, low-hanging sweatpants and a white muscle shirt hung loose over his V-taper frame and broad shoulders. And when his mouth broke into a smile, I knew it wasn’t the only thing that was going to break.
He was the sunset, burning bright on the cusp of something dark and forbidden. If he were a song, I thought wistfully, he’d be a ballad. Sweet and forlorn and full of hidden meanings. “Wildest Dreams,” maybe.
I’d trained myself not to dream for so long, not to dare hope for something better, that Rhyland posed a threat to my very existence. He reminded me there might be something more to this life. And hope was like crack. Risky but addictive.
“Hey,” he said breathlessly.
“Hi.” I tucked a tendril of hair behind my ear, scurrying out of the elevator and into the apartment.
He closed the door behind us. “Wanna see?” He raised his phone up in his palm.
“Um, can I pee first?”
He rolled his eyes, downplaying his excitement. “I mean, if you must.”
I went to the bathroom thinking he looked too thrilled to have me, an objectively ill-informed person when it came to mobile apps, view his work.
Had Row, Tate, and Kieran given him the time of the day—taken his idea seriously? I doubted it. Rhyland was always celebrated by his friends for being silver-tongued and handsome, but people naturally assumed all he had to offer was his charm. He wasn’t outwardly talented at anything, like Row was with food, Kieran with soccer, and Tate with pissing people off.
After I washed my hands, I snuck in to check on Grav. She was sound asleep. I joined Rhyland at the breakfast nook, sliding onto the stool next to him. The mock-up app was already splayed on the screen of an iPad he must’ve brought with him.
“I thought I was going to see this on your phone.” I grabbed the iPad from him.
“This’ll give you the full experience. I made some tweaks to it after little stinker’s bedtime story.”
“What did you read?”
“The Very Hungry Caterpillar, for the fourth time.” Pause. “In a row.” Pause. “That caterpillar has untreated binge-eating issues. The book is romanticizing eating disorders. Parents should make more of a stink about it.”
He was blabbering because he was nervous about the app. Which, at first glance, looked sleek as hell.
“Dude, are you, like, hardworking and shit?” I tilted my head, grinning.
He puffed up, his face twisting in abhorrence. “Please. I did this with Paint while dropping a deuce.”