Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
As I pulled up to the valet, we were chatting about Sam’s love for bad reality TV shows.
“I swear,” Sam said as he got out of the car, thanking the valet, “if you haven’t seen Bad Girls Club, then I don’t think this is going to work.”
I snorted. “I actually have seen that one. I had a client who was on the show. I got curious.” My brows rose and I shook my head. “That shit was crazy.”
Sam laughed, the sound cutting straight through the loud din of South Beach.
The restaurant was at the top of one of the tallest hotels in Miami Beach, with views that apparently rivaled anything else on this side of the world. The hotel was a modern marvel of sharp lines and bright lights, a row of soft blue lights leading up to the entrance and an army of tall palm trees on either side of the ramp that led up to the valet. There was a stone waterfall with the water streaming down over a neon-pink flamingo, the color popping through some of the white and frothing water. All around us were beachgoers, some walking up with their luggage to check in to the hotel, others walking past and loudly talking about the exclusive rooftop restaurant they were dying to go to.
The lobby of the hotel was just as elegant and modern as the outside, while still attracting a youthful vibe, with bright pops of neon and eye-catching art installations. There was a colorful “balloon elephant” sculpture next to the check-in desk, its trunk seemingly waving to us as we walked past to the elevator bays. Sam was wide-eyed the entire time, taking in everything around us.
It gave me time to take him in. Drink him like an aged red. His hair, still cut short, was styled slightly different tonight, a little more tamed. His glasses looked different, too. They were spotless and framed his face well, drawing attention to his bright and friendly eyes. He wore a pair of gray pants that clung to his form in a way that made me thirsty for a gallon of water. He wasn’t skinny, and he wasn’t thick; he was perfect for me, his legs looking like they’d fit just right wrapped around my waist. And that ass of his. I kept stealing glances, even as we rode the packed elevator up to the top floor of the hotel, not caring that the mirrored walls could potentially give me away.
Fuck it.
“After you,” I said as the door opened onto a breezy outdoor patio, palm trees growing up toward the sky, thick leaves rustling in the wind.
“This is nuts.” Sam looked around. I peeled my eyes off him, agreeing that the restaurant was pretty nuts. It was an open-air restaurant, so we could look up and count the couple of stars breaking through all the light pollution, the edge of the floor surrounded by tall glass walls, seemingly invisible when looked at from the right angle. The tables were set in a circle, allowing for each diner to have an infinite view of the city and the beach.
The hostess led us to our table, sitting underneath a palm tree and looking out to the tall and lit-up Downtown. Miami’s skyline had really transformed in the past years, and this view was just as breathtaking as a view of the ocean. The bay cut across and underneath the three bridges that connected Miami Beach to Downtown, the bridges alternating in color between blues, greens, and pinks.
Sam wasn’t admiring the view like I thought he would. He had his eyes turned down to the menu with a laser kind of focus. He looked a little pale even though the lights were casting a warm glow on us.
“You okay?” I asked as we settled into the comfortable white seats.
“Yup, mhmm, just looking at this really great menu. Whoever designed these, wow, they did a great job. Really great.”
He wasn’t moving, not even his eyes. As if he was sca… Ah fuck.
“You’re scared of heights.”
“You know. Funny story. I… well, yeah, maybe. I’ve never been higher up than my aunt’s condo, and hers is on the eighth floor. How high up are we again?”
“Just don’t think about it.” I wasn’t about to remind Sam that we were currently fifty-five floors aboveground. “Shit, sorry. I should have asked before making the reservations.”
“No, don’t even stress it. I would have said yes anyway. Before this moment, I for sure thought I wasn’t the ‘scared of heights’ type. Ha. Guess you should actually experience some heights before figuring out if you’re scared or not.”
I reached across the small circular table, making sure not to knock over the vase holding the three white roses. “Let’s go.”
Sam tore his eyes off the menu, latching them onto mine. “No. It’s fine, trust me. I just have to get over it.” He peeked to his side before snapping his eyes shut and taking a deep breath. “Wow, okay. That’s a lot to get over.”