Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
His profile icon is Dwight from The Office, one of my favorite shows. I’m about to call into the kitchen and compliment him, but...
My heart sinks as I scan through Bash’s recently watched shows and recommendations. The Bachelor. Bridgerton. The Crown. Outlander.
He has a girlfriend. There’s no way he watched these shows. When he’s home for holidays and visiting my parents’ house, he and Eric only watch ESPN and whatever football games are on.
Is his girlfriend not here right now because I’m here? Guilt washes over me as I imagine Bash telling his girlfriend she can’t Netflix and chill while he has a houseguest.
I’m cockblocking him. And also her.
“Hey.” He sits down beside me, on the opposite side of Bruce. “See anything that looks good?”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
He looks taken aback. “No, why?”
I tilt my head, giving him a look. “Don’t bullshit me. You know I’m over my childhood infatuation with you. It’s totally fine if you have a girlfriend, and you don’t need to tell her she can’t come over because of me. I have earplugs.”
His brows shoot up in amusement. “I don’t have a girlfriend. I’m not bullshitting you.”
I frown. “Oh. Recent breakup?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not a relationship guy. Unless Bruce counts.”
Hearing his name, Bruce jumps down from the couch and goes over to Bash, putting his front paws in Bash’s lap. His tail swishes eagerly.
“Yeah, you’re my one and only relationship, Brucey,” Bash croons, cupping his dog’s face.
I look from Bash to the TV screen and then back to Bash again. “What’s up with your Netflix profile, then?”
He looks at the TV and shrugs. “I like shows that relax me.”
My lips part and a laugh slips out. “Bridgerton? You like Bridgerton?”
“I’m team Kanthony. Have you watched it?”
I thought I knew Bash well. But this doesn’t just surprise me; it shocks the hell out of me.
“It’s one of my favorite shows. The spinoff, Queen Charlotte, is perfection.”
“You want to watch it?”
I glance from the TV screen to him, grinning. “It looks like you have The Bachelor in progress.”
“You watch it?”
“No. But I can ask you questions and make you miss most of it because you’re so busy explaining things to me.”
“Let’s do it.”
Shane refuses to watch shows with me because I ask too many questions. Which is okay because we have very different tastes in shows. He likes action movies and I like quirky comedies and reality shows.
Bruce gets on the couch, half on Bash’s lap and half on mine. Bash reaches behind my head and gets a blanket from the back of the couch, spreading it out to cover Bruce up.
“Has Shane called you since he left Saturday?”
I’m immediately defensive, but I try not to show it. “Yeah, we’ve talked. He’s okay, but for the rest of the summer, he wants me to come to Columbus on weekends instead of him coming here.”
Bash shakes his head. “And how do you feel about that?”
“I get it. He doesn’t feel welcome here.”
My heart is beating faster than its baseline. I’m not used to being so close to Bash. He took a shower while I was sequestered in my room’s bathroom. His dark hair is still damp, curling at the ends. And his lashes are just unfair. Dark and thick, framing caramel eyes with gold flecks.
“Tell me something, Lane.” He rubs a hand over Bruce’s back, his gaze intense as he looks into my eyes. “And be honest. I promise I won’t say a word after if you’ll just answer one question for me.”
I should have a quip cued up, but all I can do is nod. I run my thumb over my engagement ring, feeling guilty over the warmth I feel from being so close to Bash.
“Does Shane make you feel like the most beautiful, sexy woman in the world? Like no one else could ever compare to you. Like he’s all in, out of his mind, head over heels in love with you.”
I swallow and look down. “Bash, it’s not like that in real life.”
He puts a fingertip beneath my chin and tips it up until our eyes meet. His touch makes my skin heat and my pulse pound. “It can be, though. It should. You’re settling.”
“Maybe,” I concede. “But some of us don’t want fireworks and passion. We don’t want to land the hottest person we can and worry constantly about whether we’ll be able to keep them as we get older. We just want stability and companionship.”
He drops his hand. “Stability and companionship? That’s like a commercial for a nursing home. Fuck that. You’re a beautiful, brilliant twenty-four-year-old. You deserve nothing less than fireworks and passion. I’ve got married friends who have it all—they’re best friends who can’t keep their hands off each other.”
I tuck a loose section of hair behind my ear, his words reaching me in a way that makes me uncomfortable.