Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Do you usually do what Damon says?”
“I don’t want to make the same mistakes.”
Matt pulls back and grins. “I want to fuck you, not marry you.”
“You say such sweet things to me.” I drag him the rest of the way upstairs and into my room.
We tumble in a pile of limbs on my bed, and even though I’m making a mistake still alarms in my head, the feel of Matt against me wins out. It’s addictive, and I’m definitely going to need a stint in rehab when he leaves.
The fact is, I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t know what my number is with Matt, and that thought alone scares the shit out of me.
I put my hand on his chest and push him just enough for him to back off with his hips still digging into mine.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Maybe we should stop.”
He pulls back farther, misunderstanding what I mean. “Right now?”
I grip his ass and bring him closer to me again, and I almost lose my train of thought when his cock presses against me. “No, not now. But, I mean, you’re going back to Philly tomorrow, and it could be a clean break.”
“I’ll be back in two weeks.”
“For publicity.”
He hesitates for a second and then shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “If that’s what you want.”
It’s not lost on me that I had this conversation with another guy not that long ago and he complained. I would’ve given anything for Aron to accept my terms as easy as Matt has, but lying here right now, something niggles in my chest, and it feels a hell of a lot like disappointment.
When footsteps sound across the carpet in the hallway toward my room, I smile and roll onto my back, preparing for Matt’s usual wakeup call. It takes a few seconds for me to remember he’s leaving today, and with how high the sun is and with it blinding me through the windows, I think I’ve missed my goodbye. For a minute, I get excited at the thought that he didn’t leave, but that’s dashed when my mother appears in my doorway.
Dad’s very own Michelle Obama. At least, that’s what he tries to sell her as to the public. To me, she’s the woman who’ll whoop my ass if I’ve done something wrong. And by the look on her face, I’ve done something wrong.
“Still in bed, I see.” Her voice is scolding but her chocolate eyes are warm, so I can’t tell if she’s playing with me or is serious.
“Is there somewhere I should be?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a large office block in Midtown, holding pompons and saying ‘Vote for my dad!’” Ah, so half-serious, half-teasing me about my life choices.
“You paint a fascinating picture there, but I don’t see it ever happening.” I sit up and make sure the sheet stays wrapped around me.
Mom rolls her eyes. “I’m your mother. There’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“Yes, but I’m not two anymore.”
“Even if your behavior lately says otherwise.” Her gaze darts around the room as if assessing it. “Where’s …”
“His name is Matt, and he went back to Philly to take care of a few things. Why are you here? Did Dad send you?”
“Yes and no. He wants me to convince you to break up with your football player and come to work. I’m only going to do one of those things, so which do you pick?”
“I’m not breaking up with Matt.”
“There.” She smiles. “That was easy. Now get to work.”
Damn her and her mother trickery.
“What’s the point?” I ask. “Every single one of Dad’s advisors rebuff my ideas, I’m practically invisible, and they aren’t actually doing any good in the world. They aren’t in this to fix anything. It’s all personal gain.”
“So, go in there and demand to make a change.”
“I’ve tried. They practically pat my head like a dog, say ‘good boy,’ and then pretend I never said anything. It’s why I stopped bothering going in at all, and guess what? The only person bitching at me to come in is Dad.”
She sighs. “What do you want to do with your life, Noah? What do you care about?”
The one time I cared about something, he stomped on my heart and then shit all over it.
“You don’t like politics—”
“It’s not that I don’t like it. I had every intention of following through with the plan you and Dad wanted for me. But when you sold me on the idea, I thought I could make an actual difference. Politics is a long game for short-term benefits. It’s impossible to please everyone, so you please majorities just for the small chance to help out the people who truly need it. I want to try to improve the world, not make rich men richer.”
“Give your father until the end of the campaign. Pay your dues, and then you can talk about making bigger changes.”