Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“Marina?” Naomi asks.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“God, you’re thinking about his penis, aren’t you?”
“I’m going to go now.” I pause. “And please don’t use the word penis.”
She chuckles. “Okay. Well good luck on your date. Just remember, you’re lovely just the way you are.”
There’s no use telling Naomi that Laz pretty much said that exact same thing during our first date (except with Laz’s accent, when he says it, it comes out as “louvlay”). I can’t blame her for being cynical though. Even with her and Robert’s couples counseling session tomorrow, she still has an uphill battle when it comes to their relationship.
I glance out the window. The gloom we’ve had for the last while has lifted and it’s a brilliantly hot and sunny day. No breeze either, which is good for the bees. It tends to make them agitated and the last thing we need on this date is for them to get all hot and bothered. I know Laz hasn’t quite come out and said that he’s afraid of bees but it’s going to take a lot of convincing to get him in his bee suit.
I make myself a cup of tea with some raw honey, courtesy of the girls, then slip on my jeans and a T-shirt and head outside, the grass wonderfully soft on my feet. Barbara has been more than generous letting me turn the entire backyard beyond the pool area into my own oasis. It can get expensive with all the water bills but luckily she doesn’t care.
There’s a nice strip of lawn running up to the hives and the rest of the yard is sand and gravel, evenly split between drought-tolerant plants to keep things eco-friendly and flowers that attract bees. Since lavender hits both those targets, I’ve planted lavender absolutely everywhere.
I take in a deep breath, letting the sun warm me from above and the ground warm me from below. There’s something to be said for walking barefoot, especially on grass. It’s actually scientifically proven to help ground you.
I make a mental note of it to tell Laz later.
Then I stop myself. Today it’s not Laz coming over but his alter-ego, Carl McNaughty, back for date number two, and if I’ve learned something from our night at the comedy club, it’s that Marina can talk about bees and scientific facts about walking barefoot all she wants with Laz but she can’t with Carl or whatever Joe Blow I’ll be dating in the future. Marina should also refrain from talking about herself in the third person.
I sigh. This whole thing is both fun and frustrating. The entire date, I kept looking at Laz and wondering why the hell I was doing this with him? Meaning, why did he have to pretend to be someone else? Why did I have to pretend to be someone else? I mean, I may not have had a fake name (I do today, because why should he have all the fun), but I still couldn’t act like myself. Why couldn’t we just…
I don’t want to think about it. I keep wanting to think about it. It keeps pressing at the back of my head, like it’s looking for a way inside, and I keep putting up the internal walls and barricades to stop it. I don’t want to indulge that part of me because it’s getting trickier and more dangerous by the minute.
All the years I’ve known Laz, I’ve put my feelings for him to the side until I convinced myself there were no feelings at all. I’ve told myself over and over again that whatever things I’ve felt, whether it be jealousy, attraction and lust, hell, even enough desire that I’ve brought out my vibrator more than once, that it wasn’t based in anything. I’ve actively worked hard to see Laz as a friend and just a friend, all the while it would have been so incredibly easy to just give in and just admit to myself that I want him.
Not just as a friend, though. Not even close.
That’s probably why I’m so all over the place. Part of me wants him to teach me how to seduce men, only just for the chance that I can actually seduce him or vice versa. The other part of me is terrified of the idea—like him kissing me, touching me—because I think, I know, the moment he does that, every single thing is going to change.
Everything.
Naomi was right. It doesn’t make sense for Laz to do this. We don’t have to pretend to date each other. He could just give me a few pointers. I mean, I learned enough about how I am on a date the first time that there’s really zero need for a second one.
I think he knows that too. He must. Why else would he be doing this?