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)
“Thank you,” I tell her before I gulp back the beer, knowing that Naomi is still watching me. If she wants me to open my eyes, I will.
“Hey, don’t drink it all,” Jane says, thrusting her glass of champagne out toward me. “We have to do a proper toast. Here’s to Lazarus Scott for proving to every little hipster out there that they too can become Instagram famous if they just dream hard enough and use the right hashtags.”
“Fuck off,” I tell her, laughing, and we all clink glasses, finishing the rest of our drinks right there.
“Woooo!” Jane shouts, twirling around. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
“Amen,” grumbles Naomi.
“I should go say goodbye to Abigail,” I tell Marina. Without thinking, I grab her hand and hold it tight. “Come with me.”
She inhales sharply, nods and I lead her over to my editor who is sipping from a water bottle and talking to a man in a suit I don’t recognize.
“Thank you so much for everything,” I tell Abigail. “Really. I couldn’t have dreamed of anything better.”
“I’m so glad you liked it,” she says. “And that you could make it. I know it was last minute.” She looks to Marina. “Can I just say, you’re a very lucky woman.”
Marina glances at me, wide-eyed, and I know she’s seconds from correcting her so I beat her to the punch.
I squeeze her hand and say quickly, “I’m the lucky one here. If you’re looking for a book on beekeeping for the Instagram age, this is the gal for you.”
“Oh really?” Abigail says and I can see the ideas sparking in her eyes. “You’re a beekeeper?”
Marina nods, apparently speechless for once. I’m not sure if it’s because a New York editor is interested or that I’m pretending we’re together.
“Here,” I say, letting go of her hand to fish out my wallet from my back pocket. I pull out one of Marina’s business cards, albeit with her old logo, and hand it to Abigail. “Look her up. You won’t be disappointed.”
She takes it, looking it over. “Well isn’t this something?” she says. “A power couple on Instagram. The poet and the beekeeper.”
We say our goodbyes and then start walking toward Naomi and Jane by the front doors.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Marina says in a hush as I hold her hand and pull her toward them.
“What, pimp you out or pretend I was your boyfriend?”
“Both, actually.”
I shoot her a cheeky smile. “Better bee-lieve it.”
She rolls her eyes but at least it grounds her again.
“God you guys are slow,” Jane says as we approach. Her eyes trail down to our hands entwined together. I can almost feel the pulse in Marina’s palm ticking against mine in preparation for whatever Jane is going to say.
“Holding hands?” Jane notes, slurring her words a bit. She tries to raise a brow but ends up frowning instead.
“It’s New York City, Jane,” I tell her. “You never know who might try and snatch me up on these mean streets.”
They all start laughing and we head out into the night.
I don’t let go of Marina’s hand. Not for a second.
She’s not pulling away either. When we walk back to the hotel, the air thick with humidity we just don’t feel in LA, she’s right by me, leaning in, her shoulder against my arm.
We don’t say anything. Everything is so electrically charged already, I don’t think words need to be said. “Open your eyes,” Naomi had said. But my eyes are open. Maybe not always, but they are now.
I’m not ending this night alone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MARINA
“CORRUPT”
Laz is holding my hand.
He’s been holding my hand for the last thirty minutes.
I don’t know what’s going on.
But I think my hand is sweating a bit too much for my liking and I want to pull it away and wipe it off. I’m just afraid that if I do, he won’t hold it again.
It’s like I’m five years old again with my crush on Billy Drixol who lived down the street, when Billy held my hand for our entire walk to the playground. That was my first crush. That hand-holding meant the whole world to me.
Now, it’s with Laz. Tall, lean, muscled, tatted, wonderfully talented Laz with the sexiest accent in the world. This man is holding my hand and it feels like the most natural thing, despite the fact that I’m burning hotter than the sun with every step we take.
We’re not saying a word to each other. We’re not strangers to silence but this silence is different. It’s saying things that haven’t been said. I just don’t know what he’s saying to me.
“You guys are so slooooow,” Jane yells at us from the street corner.
It’s been so nice to see her and be with Naomi and let our hair down a bit but honestly, at the same time, I just want to keep walking past them and head to somewhere dark and quiet with Laz. I want to tell him all the things I wasn’t able to say when we shared a bed.