Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
He’s referencing a real event when a pop singer “allegedly” dated a famous actor for publicity. My little sister said they had true love, but I guess we’ll never really know. I recognize very well that that must be how the world feels about my family.
Most people will never really know us or have all the facts, and they have to be satisfied with whatever we give them.
“Thatcher will not be wearing an I heart J.E.C. shirt,” I tell Tom. “We’re going to be a little more discreet than that.”
“Boring,” he tells me. “So I, uh, still can’t get ahold of Charlie.” Tom sounds distracted wherever he is. Possibly he’s also texting. He often tries to do both at once. “He’s not picking up his phone, per usual. Do you know where he’s at?”
One sibling usually calls me each day asking about Charlie’s whereabouts. I rarely have much information to share. They’d call Beckett, but he’s usually at rehearsal and I’m the next closest to Charlie.
Maximoff brushes his teeth and listens.
“Last night he was in Brooklyn,” I tell Tom. But we all know that doesn’t mean much. He could be on a plane to Dubai by now.
“Eliot should put another tracker on him,” Tom says, mischief in his voice. “See how that works out.”
“Tom,” I warn. “Charlie is not a dog.”
Last time Eliot and Tom attached a tracker to Charlie’s phone, we almost had a Cobalt Civil War.
“Hey, is Moffy with you?”
Maximoff pauses brushing. “Hey, Tom.”
“Dude.” Tom takes a longer beat. He has to be texting. “You know that guy I’ve been kind of casually seeing in private?”
I’ve heard everything about the casual hookup that’s on Tom’s speed dial. Emphasis on casual. It’s just about fooling around, Tom has said.
He isn’t in search of anything serious. He says it’s not because of the media, but I’ve seen him a little freaked out from how aggressive the paparazzi and public are towards Maximoff and Farrow. The rabid attention has scared many of my siblings away from diving into a relationship.
I love, most of all, that my eighteen-year-old brother has Maximoff for advice.
“Yeah, I remember.” Maximoff spits into the sink.
“We locked a day to do anal,” Tom explains in a rush, “and I was planning on taking fiber supplements like you said Farrow does. But I’m too paranoid to just rely on that since it’s my first time. And now I have to get this stuff to douche, and I mean, I have to figure out how to even douche.”
“It’s alright, don’t stress.” Maximoff looks back at my phone. “I’ll text you what you need. It gets easier every time. Call me if you’re having trouble.”
He exhales in relief. “Will do.” To me, he says, “Adieu, ma soeur.” Farewell, sister.
“Adieu.”
Maximoff rinses toothpaste out of his mouth. “I can ask Farrow if he can get ahold of Oscar and see if he knows where Charlie is.”
I shake my head. “No, if Charlie wants to be alone, he should be left alone.” But if I can’t reach my brother in 36 hours, I’ll send in the cavalry to find him.
Our heads turn as floorboards squeak.
Farrow appears, beautiful wings and crossed swords inked on his neck and throat. He leans casually on the doorway, already dressed in black slacks, his radio clipped to the waistband. He had an early security meeting at Studio 9 with Omega and some of Epsilon and Alpha.
Thatcher and I were the main topic at hand, I’m sure, but instead of digging into that, I raise my voice. “Moffy, your bodyguard has a terribly big hard-on for you.”
Maximoff tries to boast, but he ends up smiling too much at Farrow. “You heard Janie. She only speaks the truth.”
“I do,” I play along and close my bottle of cleanser.
Farrow skims Maximoff’s bare chest and towel. “You told her to tell me that, wolf scout.”
Maximoff scrunches his face, about to put the toothbrush back. “How could you know that, man?”
He arches his brows. “Because I know you.” He looks to me. “And you.” His gaze darkens a little more than usual. Protective.
It must’ve been an intense security meeting.
His gaze flits to Maximoff’s hand, and his smile suddenly stretches from cheek to cheek. “That’s also my toothbrush.”
Oh no.
Maximoff goes rigid. “No it’s not.” He checks.
Oh it is.
Farrow laughs and pushes into the bathroom. They have this moment where he cups Maximoff’s jaw and kisses his lips tenderly in greeting, and they murmur under their breath to one another. Their hands pulling each other closer. Chest to chest.
I never want to be jealous of their love. I want to be satisfied with what I have, but my stomach tumbles in strange patterns.
I’m not sure what I really feel right now.
I just know what I want to feel.
I train my focus elsewhere and start texting on my phone. “I’m asking Thatcher to come over.”