Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
“I kiss you; I fuck you; I give you my application—I told you. We’re still in the I-fuck-you portion of our program.” He lies back onto the pillows on the bed, smirking, and puts his arms behind his head—revealing tattoos on the undersides of his biceps that say “Welcome to” on one arm and “the Gun Show” on the other.
“Oh, Jesus, Josh, no,” I say, rolling my eyes. “No, no, no. Those are even worse than freaking ‘YOLO’!”
He laughs.
“You’re hopeless.” I hit my forehead with my palm. “Oh my God. What am I gonna do with you?”
He’s laughing his ass off. “I told you. Drunken tattoos are kind of my thing. These bad boys were a dare.” He flexes his bicep and kisses it.
“Josh. No.”
“Kat. Yes. I had to—I had no choice. Reed ‘double-dared’ me, Kat. What else was I supposed to do?”
I laugh. “Holy hell. From here on out, you’re gonna check with me before you even walk past a tattoo parlor. Do you understand me?”
He laughs. “Thanks, Mom.”
I twist my mouth. “You’re joking, but that shit wouldn’t have happened if you’d had an ounce of fucking parental supervision in your life. You’re just an overgrown child.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, probably. I haven’t had a parent since I was seventeen.”
“You’ve never had anyone tell you to stop acting like an idiot, have you? Everyone around you just double-dares you and goads you on.”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, jeez.” I shake my head. “Call me before you do anything else involving ink on your body. Do you hear me? You’re a freakin’ train wreck, Josh Faraday. You need someone to slap you occasionally.”
He belly laughs. “I know—I totally do.” He’s beaming at me.
I roll my eyes. “That shit would so not fly in my house. My mom would have whipped you the fuck into shape. Jesus God.”
He laughs.
“So what’s the deal with your other tattoos? What other monstrosities am I gonna find on you?”
“No other monstrosities. Everything else is meaningful.”
“What’s the story of ‘OVERCOME’?”
He takes a long sip of his drink. “Sorry, I don’t tell anyone the truth about that one.”
“No?”
He shakes his head.
“What do you say when people ask you?”
“I just say it means, you know, ‘keep your chin up’ or ‘rise above’ or some other inspirational sound-bite like that.”
“But that’s not true?”
“Well, yeah, it’s true. But that’s too simplistic to be the whole truth.”
“What’s the whole truth, then?” My heart is suddenly clanging wildly.
He looks at me with hard eyes for so long, I’m not sure if he’s ever going to answer my question. “I never tell anyone the whole truth about that particular tattoo.”
I bite my lip. “Well, gosh, I never tell anyone my initials spell KUM.” I flash him my most charming smile. “And I never tell anyone I made out with a woman. Or about Garrett Asshole Bennett calling me a slut.” I feel my cheeks burning. “And I never tell anyone about poor, sweet Nate and how I broke his heart.” I frown. Even saying his name makes me feel literally sick with guilt.
Josh looks unimpressed.
“Aw, come on, Josh. I already know the truth about your ‘Grace’ and ‘YOLO’ tattoos, so why not go balls-deep and tell me about the rest of them, too?”
Josh exhales. “Yeah, but I never would have told you the true meaning of ‘Grace.’ Sarah spilled the beans for me, against my will.”
I purse my lips. What more can I do? I can’t force the guy to open up to me.
Josh takes a deep breath. “Shit.” He looks up at the ceiling like he’s trying to make a decision.
I wait, my skin buzzing.
Josh looks at me with sparkling eyes. “Goddamn you, Kat. I really can’t resist a woman who uses the phrase ‘balls-deep.’”
I grin.
He sighs audibly. “I got my ‘OVERCOME’ tattoo so I’d see it every single day and feel inspired to keep going, no matter how much I sometimes just wanna lie down and say ‘I can’t fucking do it anymore.’”
I wait again.
“You sure you wanna hear the whole fucking thing?”
I nod. “Honesty-game.”
“Okay. Here it is. Honesty-game.” He exhales loudly. “I got it because sometimes, it’s all too much. Sometimes, I wanna just... you know... escape.”
I nod, encouraging him to keep talking.
“I got it because my mom was slaughtered while I was sitting at a fucking football game with my dad. Because my poor brother was so traumatized by what he witnessed that day, he still hasn’t recovered.” His voice cracks.
He pauses, collecting himself.
I nod again.
“I got it because my dad killed himself by blowing his brains out, and made sure poor Jonas would find him.” His voice cracks again. “I got it because my dad offed himself without saying goodbye to me or leaving me even a goddamned fucking note.” He swallows hard. “I got it because Jonas drove himself off a fucking bridge that same day, and if he’d succeeded in offing himself, I would have joined him at the bottom of that bridge.” He looks at me with blazing eyes.