Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“Sterling!” My mother is appalled—totally appalled. “Stop it, that’s not even funny.”
“He’s not joking Mrs. Wade, he did indeed kick my ass out.” Scarlett laughs. “He spent the night policing me, and we kept arguing, and…then I went back the next weekend.”
“And he let you in, obviously.”
“Nope.
“Sterling!” Mom practically shouts, sitting up in her chair, book falling to the sand. “I raised you better than that! How utterly unromantic!”
“Mom, relax. I couldn’t shake her no matter how hard I tried. She was like a bad rash.”
Scarlett rolls her eyes. “It actually was kind of romantic. He would wait for me on the front porch every Friday, and one night I went to dinner with a bunch of my friends and I didn’t show up—I think he was jealous he wasn’t invited along.”
“I don’t think that’s what I was feeling that night—I was worried, not jealous.”
“Don’t lie, you were a little jealous.”
Yeah, fine—I was a little bit jealous of her friends.
“So you became friends first?” My mom draws out the words, and I can see an idea taking root. “Friends to lovers. Frenemies. I like it.”
No, not lovers—not yet.
But soon.
“To entertain ourselves, we sat outside and played games—”
“And she fed me.”
We’re finishing each other’s sentences now? Barf.
“What kind of games?” Dad asks, flat on his back again, eyes covered with his cap.
“Never Have I Ever.” I clear my throat. “Would You Rather.”
“Drinking games, Sterling? Where did I go wrong with you?”
“We were sober every night, Mom, relax. There was no alcohol involved.”
“Well, except for that one time…” Scarlett mutters.
Ah, that’s right—the night I went to her house, had her ass cheeks filling the palms of my giant hands, my tongue down her throat, and her back against the wall.
That was a great fucking night.
It wasn’t the night I realized I loved her, but it’s when I knew I could.
“It was good for us, I think,” Scarlett finally says. “We learned a lot about each other.”
And ourselves.
“Did you know Sterling was once slapped by a guy?”
Mom looks at me, brows raised. “No, I did not.” Her tone is clipped.
Scarlett laughs, reaching to brush my hair back. Takes a drink of piña colada. “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”
“I’m not embarrassed.”
“Did he tell you he used to wet the bed until he was eight?” My dad’s voice is half dazed, half asleep.
“Jeez Dad! Go to sleep!”
“Oh that’s right!” My mom cackles. “And he was a big kid, too, so it was a lot of pee.”
“Okay, yeah—now I’m embarrassed. You guys can stop.”
We sit here a little longer, laughing and talking beneath the palms, until eventually, Scarlett readjusts herself on the lounge chair so she’s in a position to rest her back against my chest.
“It’s so nice out here, I could stay in the sun all day. The weather is so gross back home.”
She closes her eyes, and I drape the towel over her lower half to blanket her. Stroke her hair. Kiss her shoulder when my parents aren’t looking, resting my mouth there.
Eventually I lean my head back and close my eyes, too.
Rowdy
Ironically, it was my parents who skipped dinner.
Scarlett and I went the ship’s formal dining room and when we arrived at the empty table, I immediately craved room service—specifically fresh sushi I could eat off Scarlett’s naked body—but she was hungry and didn’t have the patience for the forty-five-minute wait.
So, we stayed. Had the entire table to ourselves and ordered practically one of everything off the menu. After dessert, there was no pretense of doing anything but going back to our stateroom.
I flop down on the bed when we get back, legs spread, watching as Scarlett removes her shoes, silky leg propped on the desk chair, fingers expertly unclasping each buckle.
Suddenly, she’s four inches shorter.
“We have one more day tomorrow—what should we do?”
“Beach day?” she suggests. “Or we could bum around town?”
“I could do another beach day.” I’ll do whatever she wants, all damn day, and not complain. “Do you mind, though, if I get up early and hit the gym for a few hours? I’ll be back before you wake up.”
“Of course I don’t mind.”
I lie back, balancing on the mattress, propped up on my elbows. Watching.
She removes her earrings, setting them on the desk, then her bracelets. The three gold bangles jingled all during dinner like a tiny chorus of bells.
“I’m going to take my makeup off real quick.”
While she does that, I kick off my shoes. Peel off my black polo shirt, pull my brown leather belt through the loops of the dress pants Mom made me pack.
Now I don’t know what to do with myself or my hands until Scarlett comes out of the bathroom. I could peel these pants off, but would it be weird if I was just sitting here on the bed in my skivvies?