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)
I know Dax is kidding, sort of, but I think he might be on to something here—I think I might very well be particularly stupid when it comes to relationships involving me. “I think when the sex is crazy-good-off-the-charts with a guy, it makes me kinda skittish in a twisted way,” I say. “Like I think things are too good to be true—and then I start shutting down emotionally to protect myself and the whole thing becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
Dax squeezes my hand but doesn’t reply.
“The thing is, with this guy Josh, the physical part is so freaking good, he could be Jeffrey Dahmer and I’d be like, ‘Oh, em, gee, Jeff, you’re such a sweetheart!’”
Dax laughs.
“And that scares me. I feel like I might have a huge blind spot. But on top of that, horror of horrors, he’s funny and sweet and generous, too, and he makes me feel really special.” I shake my head. “I guess I’m just trying to figure out if he’s really as perfect as he seems? Or if this is just too good to be true.”
“Well, have you seen any chopped up body parts in his freezer?”
“No, but I haven’t been to his house yet. Stay tuned.”
“He lives in L.A.?”
I nod.
“What does he do?”
“He runs some sort of investment company with his brother and uncle. Other than that, he climbs rocks with his brother and parties with rock stars and supermodels. Get this: he used to date Gabrielle LeMonde’s daughter.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, and that model that’s on all the Victoria’s Secret commercials—Bridgette something—the blonde with the perfect body? Her, too.”
“Bridgette Schmidt,” Dax says reverently. “Oh my God. She’s my top desert-island pick. Your guy dated her? Wow.”
“Well, actually, come to think of it, I don’t know if he dated her, but he certainly did her.”
“Damn, who the fuck is this guy? Jesus. I guess he’s a major playah-playah, huh? Maybe that’s the ‘not-so-perfect’ thing you’re afraid is lurking in the shadows of his tormented soul.”
I sigh. “He’s not as big a playah-playah as he sounds. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he definitely likes having sex with gorgeous women—when Josh Faraday is single, he’s apparently very single—but I don’t think he’s as much of a playboy as I initially thought. He had this long-term girlfriend he was really devoted to... ” I shrug. “But, then again, he had a heart attack on the phone just now when he thought I was trying to pin him down to something beyond next week.” I roll my eyes and lean my head back onto the back of the couch. “Aw, shit, I dunno, Dax. I need to just chill the fuck out and stop overanalyzing things. I’m acting like a chick.”
“You totally are. I’ve never seen you act like this. You know what you need to do?” Dax says. “Tap into your inner Peen. That’ll cure your chickiness right up.”
“Nobody should ever tap into their inner Peen,” I say. “Even Peen should stop tapping into his inner Peen.”
We both have a good laugh about that.
“So why did this Faraday guy send you a fucking Sybian?” Dax asks. “Did you lose a bunch of money to him in a high-stakes poker game and now you’ve gotta do porn to pay off your debt?”
“He’s not a porn king, Dax. Gimme some credit. He’s this—I don’t even know what he does, actually. Google him. His company is called Faraday & Sons—Joshua Faraday.”
Dax pulls out his phone and Googles while I talk.
“It’s some sort of investment thing. He travels all the time, looking at potential companies to buy—I don’t even know what he does. He never talks about it.”
“Oh, wow,” Dax says. He’s found the homepage of Faraday & Sons. “Were these guys genetically engineered by Monsanto or what? Which one is your guy?”
“The one with the dark hair. The other guy’s his fraternal twin brother, Jonas—Sarah’s new boyfriend, actually.”
“Whoa, Sarah’s dating Thor?”
“Yeah. And he adores her. I’ve never seen two people more into each other in all my life.”
“Aw, good for her.” He scrutinizes the photo for a long beat. “Well, now I can see why you’re feeling a tad bit confused. I’m completely straight and I’d do him, especially if he bought me a dress and shoes and a Sybian.”
I laugh.
Dax continues scrutinizing the photo. “He’s exactly your type, only the best-looking version of it I’ve ever seen. He looks a lot like that football-player dude you dated in high school.”
I shrug. “Yeah, I know. I guess I’ve got a type.”
“What was his name again?”
“Kade.”
“That’s right. He looks like he could be Kade’s older, better-looking brother.” Dax looks up from the phone and appraises me with sympathetic eyes. “Poor, Jizz. I don’t know how any woman could figure out if she had actual feelings around this guy. He must leave a wake of exploded ovaries wherever he goes.”