Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
My phone buzzed.
Ex #GlassesGuy
Miss me yet? Thought so.
I shoved the phone deeper into my lap like it had personally betrayed me.
“So then the attending says, ‘Do you want to close?’ and I’m standing there holding this guy’s chest open and—uh…” Aaron’s voice trailed off. His gaze dropped to my hand. “…Harper?”
I blinked down. My knuckles were white around the handle, the pointy end of the knife glinting in the candlelight as I twirled it between my fingers like I’d just joined a traveling circus act.
Another buzz.
Ex #Captain
Defected to the enemy. Send help. And cuddles.
I smiled. Wide. Too wide. “Oh, sorry, just… thinking.”
He leaned back slowly. “Should I be concerned right now, or…?”
“What? No.” I laughed, maybe a little too hard. “Of course not. I’m totally fine. Just, you know, contemplating life. And death. And how butter knives are really underrated as weapons.”
His brows shot up. “Right. That’s… comforting.”
I stabbed a piece of breadstick with unnecessary force. Buzz.
Ex #FutureHusband
Don’t do anything reckless. Like pretending you’re not in love with me.
I shoved the breadstick in my mouth like it was Ezra’s fault. Which, let’s be honest, it was. Everything lately was Ezra’s fault.
Aaron sipped his wine, studying me like I was a puzzle. “You’ve got… a lot of fire.”
Buzz.
Ex #BestFriend
Hey, remember that line we swore we wouldn’t cross? Oops. Wanna fight about it over pizza?
“Thanks,” I mumbled around the breadstick, already gripping the knife again. “It’s actually rage masquerading as adrenaline. Fascinating right? You’re a doctor—are psychotic breaks due to stress normal?”
Aaron leaned in and pressed a hand on my arm. “Yes, and let’s call it.”
My entire body deflated. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin our date.”
“No, I mean…” He held up his hand and waved the waiter over, sliding his card across while still talking to me. “We should go. This isn’t the right place for your sort of ‘I want to kill a human’ energy.”
I didn’t ask him where he thought that sort of energy belonged but color me stupid when we showed up at the local aquarium.
I stared up at the sign. “So, crabs.”
“Don’t forget the shrimp, sharks, occasional clam, and clown fish.”
I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at him. “You deemed me not safe around humans and you bring me here?”
“I did and I do.” He held out his arm. “You can’t be full of rage at an aquarium, it’s just distracting enough. I would have taken you to the zoo but it’s closed right now and they frown upon trespassing and since I want to keep my job, the aquarium it is.” He walked up to the front and paid for our tickets. Closing time was in twenty minutes but he didn’t seem to mind paying full price. “So.” We both grabbed brochures and started walking through. “Do you want to talk about the rage or do you want to just walk, grunt, cuss occasionally, and then point at the fish—I do draw a line at tapping on the glass.”
“Understood.” I winked. “And honestly, life is just confusing. This whole situation is strange. I went into it to prove a point which I think I did, in fact, prove. I get to keep my apartment—at least I should, I have all the required proof—everything is going perfect and yet somehow it feels like I stepped into a bigger mess than before.” I leave out the parts about Ezra. But he surely saw my bathroom break down, though he was kind not to say anything. Maybe that’s what guys did when they were in competition. No, wait that’s not right, because in his mind there really wasn’t any—Ezra’s not Aaron’s. Ugh I was confusing myself.
“Ah, the footfalls of fame.” Aaron led me into the dolphin section.
I nodded gravely. “It’s not for everyone. Really, it’s not.”
One dolphin in particular swam toward us with its stupid happy face, stupid tail, and stupid grin and—on God—I almost yelled at it. An innocent dolphin. But instead of yelling, what came out of my actual mouth was:
“Dolphins are the Christian Greys of the sea.”
Aaron blinked. “…What?”
“Hate sex brought on by trauma,” I said, dead serious.
“They…do drugs too,” he offered cautiously. “The puffer fish thing. Gets them high.”
I snapped my fingers. “Exactly. They pass the poor fish around.”
Aaron winced. “One has to wonder if the fish dies.”
“Wouldn’t you?” I shot back. “If you were passed around by an entire dolphin family? ‘Here, Grandpa, take a hit. Hold on, Junior, let me just take out my teeth—’”
I winced. “Too far?”
“I couldn’t stop though—I had to finish the scenario.”
Aaron burst out laughing, shaking his head. “For the record, it’s been a weird date, but at least I got a second chance.”
Was he already counting himself out of the game?
Guilt pricked at me as we drifted into the next section in silence. Rows of colorful fish swam past, glowing under the tank lights. One in particular—a blowfish—puffed itself up until it looked like a spiky balloon.