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)
“Don’t change the subject,” he says. “You wanted to know what I thought, well there you have it. Marina is the dessert that you want but can’t have because you either think you don’t deserve it or you’re worried about the calories because you haven’t been going to the gym as much lately.”
“All right, mate, you’ve lost me now.”
“It will make sense at some point,” he says. “Helps if you’re high. Speaking of, want to go out tonight? I feel like getting outside, going to a bar, and all this talk about women makes me think I’m due for one. Or at least due for a rejection by one. Any interaction is fine by me.”
“Can’t,” I tell him. “I have a…thing. Rain check?”
He raises a brow. “I’ll hold you to that.”
With all the mad talk about Marina being dessert I’m not about to tell Scooby that tonight is date number three.
But even though I don’t mention it, it doesn’t mean it’s not eating me up inside. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this nervous over a woman before and we’re not even dating for real.
Because you’re afraid of what this means. Because a kiss is just a kiss until it means more. Honey coating your throat until you can’t breathe.
I shake it out of me. I put on some music, Deftones’ “Beauty School,” and get ready.
Tonight I’m taking Marina out for dinner to Mr. Chow in Beverly Hills. I used Daryl’s connections to get me a table because otherwise I would have no chance in hell. It’s mad posh, pricey and very exclusive.
And Marina has no idea. I know our original “plan” was to have some space between our “dates” but this was the only night that we could get. Luckily Marina didn’t object.
I slip on a white shirt, slim-fitting black suit, no tie, switching for a sleeker pair of moto boots, take out my eyebrow ring and try to tame my hair. I shave my face, getting rid of the semi-beard I always seem to have.
When I’m done, I’m fairly satisfied with the result. I’m not a bum by any means and take pride in my appearance, but it isn’t often I go out of my way to dress up. It’s certainly better than the bloody bee suit of yesterday.
“Heading out,” I tell Scooby, grabbing the car keys from the hook and then leave the apartment before he can comment on the way I look.
Eight minutes later, I’m parked outside of Marina’s house and like clockwork, Miss Havisham is peering at me through the blinds. One of these days I’m going to march right up to her door and say hello, but tonight is not one of those days.
I walk through the gate at the side of the house and go around the pool, lit up by tiny lanterns at night even though it’s never not covered in a layer of leaves. Obviously neither Marina nor Miss Havisham use it.
I take in a deep breath outside of Marina’s front door, my pulse quickening in my throat.
Take it easy, I tell myself. There’s nothing to be nervous about, it’s just Marina. Your blonde bestie. The crazy bee lady.
I knock.
I wait.
I wonder if I should kiss her hello. Should it be on the cheek? On the lips?
I’m afraid if I kiss her on the lips, we might start stumbling backward into her studio.
Dinner reservations cancelled.
Damn shame.
I knock again.
I still don’t hear anything.
I knock again. “Marina?”
Then hear a loud exaggerated groan.
Bloody hell. This isn’t a good sign.
The door swings open.
Marina stares at me in such a way that I’m afraid she’s forgotten about tonight. She had texted me back and said yes this morning, didn’t she?
But then I notice how gorgeous she looks. Her blonde hair is piled high on her head, she has sparkling earrings on and what looks like a short, deep-purple dress with a low neckline. Those black heels she had problems with on our first date are on her feet, making her shapely legs look fantastic.
I realize I’ve been staring at her body like a creep so I smile at her and say, “You look very, very beautiful.” I point at her somber face. “Except for this. What’s all this? And by this, I mean why do you look like you want to kill me?”
She closes her eyes, shakes her head, pressing her knuckles into her forehead. “Sorry. I just had a really…my aunt called me about my dad. I’m in a mood now.”
Ah shit. “Do you want to cancel? We can stay in and watch Netflix instead. Unless you want to be alone, of course.”
Please don’t tell me you want to be alone. Please tell me you need me.
“No,” she says quickly. “We’re going out. I’ll get over it.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Maybe later. Hold on.” She disappears back inside and grabs her clutch purse, then comes out and locks the door behind her. The exterior lights catch the glow of her dress and I reach out and touch the material.