Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
A silent but deep sigh escapes my lungs as Henry and Avery finish making their plans to meet up, and Beau and he leave with nothing more than a chin tip and a wave. And nausea sits like a rock in my gut, reminding me that I’m at a crossroads I wish I would’ve never reached.
Avery shuts the door behind them and charges toward me, her eyes like lasers. “I’m not even going to beg you to come out tonight, June.”
“You’re not?”
“Nope.” She shakes her head and pokes her index finger into the center of my chest. “I’m done chasing your sleepy little tail.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “I get the feeling you’re expecting that to be bad news, Ave.”
“Oh, come on!” she cries, stomping her foot in time with each word. “The reverse psychology was supposed to work!”
I shake my head and sit down on one of our kitchen stools as she twerks up against me. “I’m sorry. Really.” I shove her away on a laugh. “But tonight isn’t the night. I think I’m coming down with something.”
Beau fever, to be specific.
“Well, whatever. Henry’s meeting me in two hours, and Hilly and Bella are already at SoPo House. If you’re really not going, I’ll leave now.”
I smile. “Have fun.”
She glares at me but grabs her stuff from the counter and heads for the door anyway. “You’ll regret it!” she taunts, opening the door and standing in the opening for a beat. “Call me if you change your mind.”
“Love ya, Ave. Be safe.”
“Yeah, yeah, you too.” She rolls her eyes and spins on her heels, calling over her shoulder as she actually exits the door this time, “Don’t stick any dildos anywhere I wouldn’t, okay!”
“That won’t be a problem, you weirdo,” I respond, and just like that, the door slams behind her and she’s gone.
I look down at my cell phone on the counter, mocking me, reminding me that ElizaBeth is going to have to respond to ThunderStruck soon—or all of it will have been for nothing.
I ignore it, choosing to head into my bedroom and grab some underwear and pajamas for a quick shower. Usually, I prefer to take my showers in the morning, but I’m hoping all the heat and steam will scrub the uncertainty and fear and confusion from my brain.
When I’m done and rummaging through some of the clean laundry that sits on my dresser, all of it folded but not put away, I hear the soft sounds of footsteps coming from the wall behind me.
Beau.
He’s in his bedroom.
It feels like a cruel trick from the universe that his bedroom is adjacent to mine.
I sit there, only a pair of underwear on, and my sleep shorts and tank top clutched in my hands. My ears are far too focused on whatever noise they can latch on to to finish getting dressed. I’m listening so intently that the beats of my heart and the breaths from my lungs are damn near deafening.
What is he doing? Is he thinking of how ElizaBeth hasn’t responded? Is he getting ready to shower from his run, or was he showering at the same time I was?
Ha. Now, that’s a thought. A thought that you need to stop thinking because you need to freaking message him back!
I blow out a harsh breath from my lungs, making my lips vibrate with each wave of air, and get the lady balls to pick my phone up off the bed and open our chat once again.
I need to answer him.
Even though it’s the very last thing I want to do, even though I love having Beau all to myself inside our little Midnight chat, I need to cut the cord before this leads me somewhere dangerous.
Pretty sure we can all agree the risks I’m taking aren’t calculated at all. They’re straight-up thoughtless and careless and impulsive and everything in between.
My fingers hover over the screen, ready to type out a goodbye message when a new message appears in the chatbox.
ThunderStruck: What are you afraid of?
My heart jumps to a gallop, and I clutch my pajamas even tighter against my naked chest. What am I afraid of? Finding out that my feelings for you will never be anything more than one-sided.
It’s what I wish I could tell him most, but the one thing I can’t find the courage to say at all. Instead, I greedily grip the tiny strings of opportunity, hoping to suck him back into my land of make-believe.
ElizaBeth: Strange noises in the middle of the night. The moments when I have to keep my eyes closed when I’m washing my hair in the shower. Other people’s saliva blowing into the air at, like, 90 miles per hour when they sneeze. Tofu.
I hit send and keep typing more as I plop down onto my bed.