Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“You mean will I wait for you to pull your head out of your ass?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Josh says without hesitation. “Exactly.”
“Yeah, I’ll wait. You’re definitely worth the wait.”
He smiles broadly. “Thank you.” He hands me the bottle of tequila.
“But I won’t wait three fucking years, I’m telling you that right now, motherfucker.” I take a swig from the bottle.
“Well, how long will you wait, then?” he asks.
“I dunno. It depends.”
“On what?”
“On what happens between now and then,” I say.
He nods. “That’s a very deep statement, Kitty Katherine.” He runs his hand through his hair and I’m assaulted with the words “Welcome to” flashing me from underneath his bicep. “Hand over the tequila, babe.”
I hand him the bottle and he takes a swig.
“I’ve never done this with a woman before,” he says.
“Done what?”
Josh motions to the tequila and the half-eaten food and the TV. “Partied with a girl like she’s a dude.”
“You call eating vegan creamed spinach out of my cooch ‘partying like a dude’?”
He bursts out laughing. “You’re so fucking funny, Kum Shot. You’re as funny as any of my friends. Funnier.”
“Yeah, I’m hilare. And don’t call me Kum Shot.”
“I could do anything with you and have fun. We could go to the fucking dry cleaners and it would be fun.”
“Dude, who wouldn’t have fun at the dry cleaners? Those motorized racks are rad. Or here’s an idea,” I say. “We could go to the fish market and sing the ‘Fish Heads’ song. Now that would be fun.”
“I don’t know the ‘Fish Heads’ song.”
“No? Are you kidding me?”
He shakes his head.
“Well, shit, boy, Google it now. Search ‘Fish Head song YouTube.’” I lean back into the leather couch and spread my naked legs wide, surrendering completely to the chemicals coursing through my bloodstream. “You’re welcome, motherfucker.”
“I like it when you say motherfucker,” he says.
“Motherfucker.”
“Sexy.”
“Come on, Joshua. Google. ‘Fish Heads.’ Song. YouTube.”
Josh grabs his phone off the table and the moment the unmistakable vocals begin, he laughs his ass off—which, of course, makes me laugh, too.
“How did I not know about this?” Josh asks when the song ends. “Best song ever. Oh my God. When I visit you in Seattle next weekend, I’m gonna take you to Pike’s Place Market just so we can sing this song at the top of our lungs.”
“At the stall at the very end? Where the guys throw the fish?”
“Of course.”
“Aw, that sounds like a fun date. You really know how to razzle-dazzle a girl, Playboy.”
“I told you that from day one, didn’t I? I said, ‘Get ready for the Playboy Razzle-Dazzle.’ But did you believe me? Noooooo.”
“Oh, I believed you. I just pretended not to believe you.”
“What was the point of doing that, may I ask? You knew how our story was gonna end. Why torture me?”
I shrug. “I had no idea how our story was gonna end—I still don’t.”
“You don’t?”
“No. Do you?”
He pauses. “No, actually. I thought I did. But now I realize I only knew the ending of the first chapter—not the ending of the story.”
“What’s the ending of the first chapter?” I ask.
“We fuck like rabbits.”
“Oh, that’s a good ending.” I exhale. “Well, if I tortured you in Vegas, then I’m not sorry. You were too frickin’ cocky for your own damn good. You had to be taken down a peg.”
“Ha! Liar. You were dying to get into my pants from minute one. You were like, ‘Gimme your application, Playboy!’ And I was like, ‘I’m gonna fuck you first and then give it to you, Party Girl!’ And you were like, ‘Yippee! Yes! Please fuck me!’”
“Is that what I sound like? A chipmunk?”
“Yeah, and I sound like Mr. T. ‘I pity the fool!’”
“Well, you’re delusional. You were the one dying to get into my pants. When I kissed Henn, you practically had a stroke.”
“Ooph. Totally. But the worst was thinking about you with Cameron Fucking Schulz.” He grunts. “Even stoned, thinking about him fucking you makes me wanna break that guy’s Captain-America-fucking-face. No one touches my Party Girl with a Hyphen but me. Fuckin’ A.” He swigs from his bottle again.
I bite my lip. “Wow. Sounds pretty serious, dude.”
He bites his lip in mimicry of my gesture. “It just might be.”
“It might be?” I ask coyly.
“Yeah. It might be.”
“Can’t I at least get a probably out of you?”
Josh makes a face that says, “Sorry, come back later.”
I scrunch up my face. “You suck balls, Josh. You suck big ol’ donkey balls. God, you piss me off.” I grunt loudly.
“Whoa! Where’d Stubborn Kat come from all of a sudden? Don’t stress me out, Stubborn Kat. This is a stress-free zone. I’m chillaxing.”
I glare at him.
He flashes a toothy grin. “I’m a drifter, baby. It’s part of my charm.” He flexes his arm and kisses his bicep. “You know you can’t get enough of me.”