Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“They never see each other?” he continued, dipping his spoon back into his bowl of ice cream.
“Nope,” I answered, my bowl already empty and sitting on the nightstand next to me. We were both stretched out in my bed, leaning against a mountain of pillows. Weston’s long, muscled frame took up more than half of my modest queen bed. It was cozy, even if I was worried about him getting sick too.
“But yet they’re supposed to pick out who they want to marry? How do they know who to choose?” he asked. “They spend all this time in human-sized containers with no windows and just listen to each other talk? Couldn’t they do that on the phone in the comfort of their own homes?”
I laughed, pointing to the screen which was currently playing a reality dating show we’d just started. “Then it wouldn’t be a reality show,” I said. “And I guess they choose based on whoever they click with most.”
Weston shrugged before taking another bite of ice cream.
The little move was entirely more interesting than any Netflix show. The man knew how to wrap his lips around a spoon…
God, I’m losing it.
He sat the now-empty bowl on the nightstand next to him, settling back against the pillows. “Weird,” he said, shaking his head.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I kind of like the concept.”
“Really?” he asked. “You think you’d fall in love with someone you’ve never seen before? Someone you’ve only spoken to?”
“Maybe?” I answered him like it was a question. “I mean, we’d talk about all the important stuff—morals, food preferences, top-ten movies, work-ethic, kids versus no kids—and if by the end of all that I liked the other person, would looks really matter?”
I immediately regretted posing that question out loud. Of course it mattered to him. He only ever dated women who were movie-star gorgeous. Not that that’s the only reason why he dated them, but it was absolutely a factor. Why else would he date someone as vile as Lena?
“I guess in a way you’re right,” he said. “But all that stuff is only part of the equation.”
I snorted. “Oh, you have an equation for dating?”
“I thought we were talking about attraction and falling in love.”
I swallowed hard. If he was about to tell me how he was falling for Lena…God, it would be the worst addition to the flu in the history of time.
“What’s the other part of the equation?” I asked when he didn’t continue.
“Chemistry,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Chemistry,” I repeated.
Weston turned his eyes toward me, not bothering with the television. “Yeah,” he said. “You know, that feeling you get when the person walks into the room. When your heart races for no particular reason other than their signature scent hit your nose. When you go to bed thinking about them and wake up doing the same. That internal, inherent inability to stop your body from reacting whenever they’re around. That stuff can’t be bought, faked, let alone uncovered when you have a wall between you.” He motioned to the show.
My words got tangled in my throat, and it kind of felt like my chest might be cracking open.
The flu. It had to be the flu.
I certainly wasn’t sad over the things he just said. The things that he most certainly meant about Lena…I mean, who else? She was his only recurring date, and maybe it made me a horrible person, but I just didn’t like her for him. She was mean spirited and negative and legit used him for his status. She wasn’t even that good at trying to pretend she didn’t.
But I didn’t have a right to feel sad over it. Maybe from a friend standpoint, sure, but as anything else? Not my place.
It would never be my place.
“This is pretty entertaining though,” he continued when I didn’t respond. “I hope those two make it to the end,” he said, pointing to who had quickly become our favorite potential couple. “She’ll tear him to pieces.”
I laughed with him, doing my best to breathe without coughing or sneezing. I was just exhausted, that’s the only reason my emotions were all over the place.
“You want to watch another one?” Weston asked after we’d binged four episodes. “Or do you want something else to eat?”
“I’m so full, but thank you. I’m really glad I was able to eat today.” It was the first time I’d been able to successfully eat since I’d gotten sick a few of days ago. “Even though I’m still worried about you getting sick,” I continued. “I’m really grateful you came.”
Weston nudged me with his arm. “What are friends for?”
The cliché made me cringe, but I forced out a laugh. Why did the term bother me so much? It’s what we’d always been.
Friends.
Partners in every way that mattered but one. And really, how could I even dream of asking for more? The universe had given me so much with him in my life, it would be selfish to demand all of him for myself.