Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Tate walks over to me and thrusts a cup at me. “Your fave.” He pauses to look me over. “You’re…different today. What’s up?”
I bristle at his observation and take my time sipping the butterscotch goodness. “Nothing.”
Tate snorts out a laugh. “Liar! Your hair is messier than usual and you have pink lipstick all over your mouth!”
Bringing my hand to my lips, I try to hide a smile at the thought of her leaving her mark on me. She was certainly mussed up when I was done with her. Apparently, she did the same to me.
“Please tell me it’s Golden,” Tate says, practically bouncing in his chair. “Please.”
“It’s Golden.”
He shrieks with happiness, making my ears hurt and my entire body cringe. Tate continues to do a giddy little dance in his chair, pleased as punch.
“I knew it.” He waggles a finger at me. “I’m great at reading people.”
“I didn’t like her at first,” I argue, though the attempt is lame. “She grows on you.”
“Trust me, I know the feeling.” He takes another sip of his coffee, eyes twinkling with delight. “Tell me how you got from Friday to today and everything in between.”
So I regale him with all the details, leaving out some of the moments like her shirt coming off and us getting caught. I also don’t tell him about the stalker because it’s none of his business. By the time I finish, we’re nearing the end of our session and he’s glowing with happiness. I guess I am too.
“This is great,” Tate says. “You really put yourself out there with her and got to know her. She sounds like a sweet girl.”
“Yeah, I suppose she is.”
Tate, the emotional hound dog, leans in with his eyebrows furled together. “I’m sensing a but. Or maybe some hesitation on your part still. There’s more you haven’t told me, right?”
The last thing I want to do is go into the drama of all that.
“This thing between us,” I say with a huff, “isn’t ideal. It’s kind of fucked up, really. Our parents can’t know.”
As soon as I blurt the last part out, I wish I could reel it back in.
“She’s not eighteen?”
“No, she is,” I grunt. “It’s other stuff.”
“Hmm.” Tate studies me long enough for me to fidget in my seat. “Other stuff you don’t want to tell me about?”
“Not really.”
“Two,” he says slowly, “are you sure you’re not making it out to be a bigger deal than it is? This other ‘stuff’?” He reaches over and touches my arm. “Imagine, just for a moment, the worst-case scenario. You introduce her to your dads. What does that look like for you?”
I close my eyes and imagine me and Gemma kissing in my car. Then I see myself holding her hand as I bring her onto the porch. Dad greets us at the door, thrilled that I’ve actually brought home a girl. Pops is waggling his brows at me from behind him, letting me know she’s cute and I did well. I’m proud to have her beside me.
Until I introduce her.
Gemma Park.
The Gemma they almost had from their past.
My twisting gut has my eyes popping back open. “They’ll be hurt. I can’t bear seeing pain in their eyes. It’s too much.”
“Okay,” Tate says in a soothing voice. “It’s okay. We’ll explore this some more Wednesday if you’d like. Maybe we can figure something out that doesn’t hurt the ones you love.”
Ideally, I should just break contact with Gemma and put this whole thing behind me. But I don’t want to do that. I actually like kissing her and talking to her and spending time with her. That’s what makes this all so fucking stressful.
“Think about it,” he urges. “I think exploring this and working it out is important for your happiness. Holding it all in and keeping it a secret is going to become a heavy burden causing strain on your mental well-being.”
He has one thing right.
I’m feeling the strain and it sucks.
“Which do you prefer?” Dad asks, showing me two different wallpaper samples. “Understated or bold?”
I bounce my gaze between the two samples and then hand him the bold, geometric gold pattern on black. “I like this one.”
Dad grins. “Me too. I was hoping you’d say that. Your father, on the other hand, is going to be miffed. If we go with this design, then I’m going to have him replace their tub because it’s black and clashes with the matte color of the wallpaper.”
“Where is Pops?”
“He’s out doing a bid. We were thinking of grabbing Chinese later and watching movies on Netflix. You joining us?” He clasps his hands and places them under his chin before batting his lashes at me. “Please, please, please, please.”
I smirk at him. “Your theatrics don’t work on me. Plus, I have project stuff to get to this afternoon.”