Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“I think…I know what I want,” I say, “but there’s still some problems.”
“Yeah?” His frown hurts to look at.
I set aside my sandwich and wipe my hands on a napkin. “Xander. We don’t know how badly he’d react. My dad. You kinda said things got left more up in the air with the whole subject of me and you. I don’t know if it’d be better to keep things private or to just talk to them.”
He offers me a beer and an energy drink. I take both while he says, “So we can figure that out, but either way, we’re not looking back?”
I nod.
“So do you wanna date me?” Donnelly asks gently.
I take a small sip of energy drink, wetting my lips. Insecurities suddenly twist my stomach. “I think I should be just super upfront.” My voice goes quieter.
He isn’t moving a muscle. “Yeah?”
“I don’t know how to be a good girlfriend, Donnelly.”
He exhales the biggest breath. “Fuck, I thought you were gonna say something worse.”
“Like what?”
“Like, you’re not relationship material, Donnelly.”
I touch my heart. “I’m not relationship material. I like having sex, but I might not be any good at the stuff beyond that.”
Again, his eyes descend to my thighs, and with the mention of sex, I’m tempted to crawl on top of Donnelly. To stay planted here, I imagine I’m buckled into a pilot seat in our spacecraft.
He’s beside me, and our voyage is unknown.
I frown at my outstretched feet, toenails painted neon green. “I could suck as a girlfriend.”
“I think you’ll be alright,” he murmurs, which nudges my eyes up to his. “I don’t have any good experience being a boyfriend, but it can’t be that hard.” He starts to smile. “Farrow makes that shit look easy.”
I try to channel his confidence. “Has anyone made you feel like you aren’t cut out for it?”
“I used to ask myself why girls only wanted sex.” Donnelly bends his knee, resting his elbow on top. “Then, I realized it’s probably a combination of how I look.” He motions to his ripped jeans, a carabiner of keys hooked on his beltloop, the black Journey tee that hugs his lean muscles, the piercing on his ear, and his sleeve of tattoos, some so old and poorly done that they bleed into black indistinguishable blobs. “And how I act. In my experience, girls aren’t usually looking to date the guy who does the keg stand at the party or lets them take a Jell-O shot near his dick.”
I imagine putting my mouth on a shot glass tucked in his boxer-briefs, and I can’t help but smile. But I get what he’s saying. Donnelly is a good time, but that’s all he’d be to most people.
“It never made you want to try to be different?” I wonder, popping off the pudding cup top.
“No,” he shakes his head, watching me lick the pudding out of the cup. “Most people just judge the pieces of you that are easy to see at first sight, without really getting to know you. It never felt like people cut me down. They were always walking away from the surface of me.” He swallows a gulp of beer. “And honestly, not that many girls have given me a chance to date them. I’ve basically had one serious girlfriend, and that was in sixth grade. Lasted two weeks.”
I smile a little, imagining him with a girlfriend in sixth grade. “Was she a cute bean?”
“Not cuter than you.”
This swells inside me while he feeds Orion a tiny strip of pork, his tail wagging. “That’s a good fluffy boy.” He scratches behind his ears, pats his belly, and then rests his blue eyes on my amber. “Someone made you feel like you aren’t cut out for it?”
For being a girlfriend. “He just made me realize I’m not the right person to be a girlfriend, maybe.”
Donnelly looks pissed. “Just so this is in our universe”—he outstretches his arms to my bedroom—“I, Paul Donnelly, severely dislike Luna Hale’s bitch of an ex. Thank you, rug. Thank you, walls. Lava lamp.”
“Lava lamp wasn’t a fan of my ex either.”
“Lava lamp is my new friend.” He blows a kiss to the purple lamp.
I laugh and nod. “Andrew?” I name my only relationship, figuring he’s talking about him.
“Yeah, he’s a bitch,” Donnelly says plainly. “A prick, asshole, whatever. And if you think I’m biased, then you can ask Farrow. He’d say, fuck him for making you think you’re not good enough to be someone’s girlfriend.”
Donnelly knows where I got this uncomfortable feeling. Because he saw Andrew with me. I nod again, more confidently, even if it feels kinda like a false confidence. I still can’t tell if I’m cut out to be anyone’s girlfriend, but I want to try with Donnelly.
He takes the cigarette out from behind his ear. “I should be upfront too.”