The Paradise Problem Read Online Christina Lauren

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Chick Lit, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
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“Yes, totally. Very used to fancy parties.”

“You were the same year as Jake in school, right?” He lifts his glass to his lips, eyes fixed somewhere in the distance.

“That’s right. That’s how I met West.”

“Funny—I’ve only heard his guy friends call him West. Girlfriends called him Liam.”

My smile drips with sugar. “I guess the wife gets to call him both.”

“True, true. So, you’re—what? Twenty-five?”

“That’s right.”

“And medical school at…?”

I scrape my brain for what West told me in a rush of information on the plane. Alex turns to look at me and the pressure to answer rises. Oh, duh. Of course. “Stanford” bursts suspiciously out of me.

He snaps with his free hand. “That’s right,” he says. “Aquarius?”

I turn to look at him. That’s random. “Yeah. January 28. How did you know?”

He shrugs, laughing. “Blaire went through an astrology phase. I thought it was bullshit but sometimes it seems spot-on. I absorbed more than I thought.”

“What’s your sign?”

“Scorpio.”

I wince, and Alex laughs easily. His smile warms his face and I remember what Blaire said, about how he can be fun when he’s not around his dad. Is that what this is? Is he not the actual worst human?

“Did you keep your maiden name?” he asks.

But at this, uneasiness returns. What an odd question.

With relief, I watch West return, our drinks in hand. His expression darkens when he sees Alex at my side. He approaches, handing me a glass and bending in to kiss my jaw.

“You okay?” he asks quietly.

I nod, smiling a smile that means Everything feels weird, let’s skedaddle. West reads it, setting his hand on my bare lower back.

“We’re going to grab some fresh air.”

Alex wordlessly raises his drink to us.

We leave the tent, walking a few minutes down the path, and he stops me at a stand of mangrove trees. “What was that about?”

“He was asking me about what year I graduated UCLA, where I’m doing medical school. At first, I thought maybe he was just making conversation and is generally socially awkward, but then it got kind of weird.”

West takes a sip of his drink, and I want to lick the taste off his mouth. “I don’t like it. Alex doesn’t really do conversation for the sake of conversation.”

The tension ripples through him.

“There’s nothing for you to do about it tonight,” I tell him, taking his hand.

West looks down at our interlocked fingers and then up at me. “You’re right.” Slowly, he backs me into a tree, bending to speak into my neck. “What do you think I should do instead?”

Twenty-Four

LIAM

I’ve traveled to every continent, but I don’t think I’ve ever been somewhere as beautiful as this tiny island in the middle of the vast ocean.

The moon reflects a million overlapping crescents across the rippling surface of the water; the ocean projects deep, cerulean blue up to a night sky so heavily blanketed with stars it’s hard to believe it’s the same sky overhead back home. The beach is sugar-soft, silver in the moonlight, and completely empty, with everyone on the island back at the party.

The path from the tent led us here, and this stretch of beach leads to the wooden path, and the wooden path leads to our bridge, which leads to the bungalow, the bed, and all the possibilities of what comes next flashing like wildfire in my overheated brain. Finally, I can translate everything aflame in my thoughts and it’s all just the complex sequence of wanting someone in a hundred different ways.

But this view pulls us both up short and we stop, hand in hand, to take it all in.

“Do you ever feel completely insignificant?” Anna asks, staring out at the water.

“All the time.”

“But,” she adds, a smile in her voice, “in a good way.”

“I knew what you meant.” I tug a little on her hand, urging her to sit down, right here on the beach.

But she resists. “West… this isn’t a costume from a trunk. Vivi bought this with your card.”

“I don’t care.”

“Okay, but I do. If you don’t want me to return it, all of this is coming home with me, and I’m selling it on Poshmark or the RealReal.”

Pain splits my next breath. “Of course. You can do whatever you want with it. But that dress specifically?” I shake my head. “It would be a tragedy if you didn’t keep it and put it on every now and then. It’s made for your body.”

“Yeah?” She sends her hands down her sides and smiles down at me. “I’ve never owned anything like it in my entire life.”

“Then please don’t sell that one. Enjoy it. We can’t take any of it with us when we die.” I give her a pleading look. “But however you want to do it, please sit with me.”

She considers the sand and then jogs behind me, disappearing for a minute, and returning with a wide, flat palm frond. Setting it down, she carefully lowers herself.


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