Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
“Don’t you dare feel guilty,” I say down at the phone, holding it so tight the plastic jabs into my palm.
It’s the morning of the surprise party. It’s an afternoon cookout, with the house open for guests, and I can already hear them milling about downstairs.
I’m wearing a long summer dress, my hair loose to my shoulders and a brave smile on my face.
Or it’s supposed to be brave. It feels shaky and unsure.
Damien and I have been living in what’s quickly becoming our norm, even if the notion of having a norm with Damien still makes me feel dizzy. We text about business during the day, and Damien is happy with the Facebook page’s progress.
And then, at night, it’s like our true selves come out. It’s quickly become the part of the day I look forward to most.
“You didn’t know Aaron was going to surprise you,” I go on. “It’s a day of surprises, Anna.”
“I swear, Dee, I’ll cancel this trip right now if you need me.”
“Don’t be silly,” I tell her, though part of me is pathetically tempted. “You love it at the lake house. I wouldn’t dream of asking you not to go. I’m fine, honestly. Are you excited?”
After lying to Anna and telling her I’m fine, we chat about the lake house for a while.
It’s difficult to focus when I know that, any minute now, Dad will come driving up the lane with Damien behind him.
As Anna and I talk, I stand at the window, looking down at the street, wondering what it’s going to be like to see him, really see him, after everything we’ve done on the phone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Damien
“Are we going somewhere special?” I say, talking to Max on speaker as I follow his car through the city.
“Something like that,” he replies as he takes the turn.
It seems we’re heading toward Danielle’s house. Max’s house, really, but it’s difficult to think of anything clearly when I’ve got all mine and Danielle’s texts bouncing around my mind.
Since Monday, there hasn’t been a night where we haven’t texted. And the texts always brim with lust, every single time.
Mostly I start it, but it was her last night, sending me a text at ten o’clock.
Are you bored?
That’s all it takes, and then we’re right back into it, completely lost to our desire.
It makes speaking to Max difficult.
Every time we talk, all I can think is what he’d say if I told him the truth.
It’s one of the reasons I’ve asked Danielle to meet with me twice, but so far, she’s said no.
I’m nervous. Maybe I’ll explain why soon. I’m sorry.
I sense it’s more than the Max situation.
That phrase makes me want to roar.
The Max situation.
Like he’s a problem that needs to be solved, not my best friend.
“Is this a good time to tell you I don’t like surprises?” I joke.
Well, I say it in a joking tone of voice, but I’m starting to realize what might be happening here. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.
Max has been dropping hints about throwing me a surprise party for years, always mentioning it on Skype, but since I returned, he’s gone quiet about it.
It makes me wonder.
Max chuckles. Even the sound of his laughter makes me feel like a jackass. I know he wouldn’t feel comfortable laughing with me if he knew the truth. I need to talk with Danielle, and have a real conversation with her. I need to explain that I want something serious with her, more than serious.
I want her for myself for the rest of our lives.
Maybe then, she’ll agree to tell her Dad. She’ll be able to see how important it is.
Or she’ll run as far away from me as she possibly can.
I say – or type – possessive things when we’re texting, but it’s always in the context of us having sex or doing mouth-watering intimate things to each other.
It’s part of this fantasy texting life we’ve created.
I need to bring the fantasy into the real world.
When we turn the corner onto his street, I know right away I’m correct. He’s throwing me a surprise party.
Cars are parked up and down the street. I even recognize a pickup truck belonging to Ryan, one of our mutual friends. He was driving it the other day when we went to the gym together.
I pull up beside Max, climbing from the car. He looks happy as he grins over at me, completely oblivious to all the thoughts bouncing painfully around my mind.
“Are you ready?” he says, striding over and clapping me on the arm.
I’m ready to tell you, Max. I’m ready to be honest. I swear I am. You deserve that. But I have to talk to Danielle about it first.
I push the thought away, making myself return his smile as best as I can. “Ready for what?”