Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 84952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
The need to move, to burn off excess energy comes rushing back again. My leg bounces up and down as I wait for her to figure out what she wants to do.
Because I know what I want to do.
I want to make this deal.
It’ll help me out of a bind. Fortunately, it’ll help her too.
And the fact I’ll get to hang out with her and watch her laugh and banter back and forth isn’t that bad either.
She wrinkles her nose. “So do we have a deal?”
“I’m in if you are.”
She shoves her hand across the table. I take it in mine.
Her skin is as soft as I remember, and her perfume brings me right back to the sea. Feeling the warmth in her palm and the sturdiness in the weight of her hand causes my leg to stop hopping around under the table.
We shake gently, easily, our eyes glued together.
She slips her hand from mine entirely before I’m ready, which is weird because I don’t do the hand-holding thing. I mean, I’ve done it. Sometimes you have to in order to keep the peace. But it’s never once been something I wanted or enjoyed. It feels intimate—like parents and their kids or girlfriends and boyfriends—and when have I ever had that?
Never. And despite what Lincoln said earlier, it’s not something I’ll probably ever have. That shit makes me uncomfortable.
Still, I miss the stillness from Larissa’s touch, and that throws me a bit.
“Guess we have a deal then,” she says softly, her eyes finding mine.
She has beautiful eyes.
“I can pick you up tonight around six thirty. I drove here from school, so I have my car.”
“Great. I’ll text you my address.”
A smile ghosts her lips as she gets to her feet. I stand, too.
My heartbeat thumps away as I watch her. She takes her purse in her hand and smooths her shirt down with the other.
I want to follow the movement and take in the beauty of her body, but I can’t look away from her face.
I wish I could ask her to stand still, to never leave that spot just so I could stay right here and feel this … balance. This calm before what I’m afraid might be a storm because there’s always a storm brewing. It’s a fact of life.
“I’ll see you tonight,” she says.
“Six thirty.”
She grins. “I’ll grab a bottle of wine. Don’t worry about that.”
“I wasn’t.” I hadn’t even thought about bringing something to dinner.
“I saw the panic in your eyes when I mentioned it before. But don’t worry—I have many, many extra bottles at home that will work.”
“Well, if you insist …”
She laughs as she turns on her heel and walks away.
I stand beside the table and watch her, wondering what just happened here. She’s a chance encounter. Temporary. The perfect solution to an imperfect situation.
Yet … there was a vibe between us. Our energies fell in-sync so easily that being around her feels like being around one of my guy friend. It’s easy. It’s fun.
Except that I wouldn’t mind fucking her.
I shake my head. You’re here for a few days, Hudson. Then Savannah is in your rearview, like so many people and places before Larissa.
So many people.
I heave a breath and find a smile spreading across my cheeks.
Maybe so, but I’ll get this girl for two nights. And that’s better than what I usually get—nothing.
Eight
Larissa
I turn side-to-side and check out my reflection.
The jeans from Halcyon fit me pretty well despite being a new-to-me brand, and the powder-blue top makes me look like I have more cleavage than I do. It looks decent and definitely casual, and Hollis said the dinner tonight was casual.
Then why does casual feel so wrong?
“And why am I trusting a guy’s take on the dress code?” I groan, scrunching my face up in frustration.
I turn around and take in the mess on my bed. Nearly every top I own that could remotely be labeled as casual lays in a heap.
I go back into my closet and thumb through the few remaining items. My eyes end up falling on a turquoise wrap dress that I borrowed from Bellamy a few months ago. I take the hanger off the rod and carry the dress into my bedroom.
With the late afternoon sunlight creating a spotlight on me, I hold the dress up to my body. I turn from one side to the other.
“I mean, it's kind of casual,” I say, still unsure. “But is it too much for … I don’t even know where we’re going.”
I blow out a breath and feel my spirits sink.
“Just pick something, Larissa,” I mutter as I hang the dress on the back of my closet door.
I wander around my room and try to remind myself of who I am. I am not a girl who gets worked up about what she wears or puts this much effort into getting ready. Ever.