Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
“Okay. Shit. Ummm. Just stay still.”
The wobbling gets worse, and as my feet start shifting around on the mattress, my flailing arms morph into a full-on interpretive dance, until I simply can’t take it anymore and my ass topples over the side, dirty lake water shooting up through my nostrils as I let out a blood-curdling scream.
“ZEPH,” I scream, water bubbling down my throat as I frantically try to find the edge of the air mattress to keep me up. I desperately kick at the water, trying to keep my head up as the dirty water splashes against my face.
My hands slap against the water as Zeph’s frantic roar echoes across the lake. “FUCK!”
He sprints out into the water, taking massive strides as Chloe eagerly watches on from the side, her ankles buried in the dirty water. Zeph launches himself into a swan dive, his arms whipping around as he swims faster than an Olympic athlete taking on the hundred-meter sprint, his adrenaline pushing him to his limits.
I keep flailing, desperate to keep myself above the water as Zeph comes to my rescue, and the moment he reaches me, his hands grip my waist, catapulting me out of the water and back up onto the half-deflated air mattress.
“Holy fucking shit,” I pant, staring up at the bright blue sky, trying to catch my breath.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Zeph says, clutching the side of the air mattress. “It was just a prank. I never would have done it if I knew you couldn’t swim.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him, letting out a yelp as he tries to pull himself up onto the mattress, only to dip the side underwater and almost send me sprawling back into the dark abyss below.
“Fuck. Sorry,” he says. “I’m gonna have to swim us back.”
I roll over and smile down at him, water dripping across my face from my wet hair. “It’s like a real-life Titanic moment, only I’m assuming you’re not gonna die. At least, not until you drag my ass back to shore, then I will kill you myself.”
Zeph smirks. “You’re gonna have to catch me first.”
“Oh, believe me. That won’t be an issue.”
Zeph kicks his legs, slowly dragging me back to shore, and as he awkwardly swims with one hand while clutching onto the mattress with the other, I relax back into my damp blanket and take in the beaming sun above me. “This is nice, don’t you think?”
“Mmm,” he grunts.
“You know, I wonder if this is the lake where the Lochness Monster lives.”
“It’s not.”
“Well, it’s gotta be home to something,” I muse. “Fish. Crabs. Gators. You know, I’m always hungriest first thing in the morning. I wonder if that’s the same for gators. I’d hate to be you right now, just jiggling around in the water like a tasty little snack. I bet a gator could just swallow you whole. You know, chomp down on those skinny little legs. He could just fold you in half and death roll your ass right to the bottom of the lake.”
Zeph stops swimming and turns to face me, gaping at me in horror. “You take that back,” he says, splashing water up over my face. “I do not have skinny legs.”
I shrug my shoulders and pretend to think about it. “I don’t know . . .”
“I swear, Tilly. Take it back, or I’ll feed you to the gators myself.”
I laugh. He knows damn well that he looks good. He spends more hours inside the gym than he spends inside Chloe, and that’s saying a lot. Zephyr Di Rozé does not skip leg day.
“Fine,” I mutter, only because we’re almost to the shore. “You don’t have skinny legs.”
“Thank you.”
He gets back to doggy-paddling us back into the world of the living, and before I know it, my feet are back on dry land. As I look up at Chloe, she gives me a smile, innocence radiating out of her, but I know better. This little she-devil is just as guilty as Zephyr, and with that, I sprint toward her, soggy clothes and all, laughing as she squeals and takes off down the shore.
Four hours later, I’m sitting in the backseat of Zephyr’s Range Rover, taking up as much space as I can as I scroll through old images on my phone. It’s been a long drive. Much longer than anticipated after someone—not mentioning any names—took a wrong turn, which turned our quick two-hour drive home into a four-hour road trip, but I’m not complaining. The long drive with these amazing people sure beats rotting away on my couch, sulking about a man who has more layers than an onion.
Zeph turns onto my road, and as he drives toward my apartment complex, I lean forward, my elbows braced on my knees. “Hey, Zeph?”
“Whatdoyawant?” he rumbles out, probably still recovering from his short bout of cardio this morning.