Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 48680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
"Do you memorize my schedule, you creeper?" I laugh, back still turned to her. I wonder how much more noise she'd be making just now if she found out I called out of my shift tonight, asked Raul to cover. It's the first time I've called off of work in the entire time I've worked there. Normally I work right through sick days. But I faked vomiting sounds on the phone, and I guess Paul was afraid enough about the potential for cross-infection with the food that he let me switch. Projectile vomit and waiters do not make for a healthy combo.
"You've only had the same one for a year." Erin splays across the couch. "Not my fault I'm observant."
"Well, observe your own business," I call over my shoulder. But by the time I've poured the tea, I turn around to find her full-on pouting at me. Puppy dog eyes and all. Shit. I can never resist those.
"Come on, I share all my good stories with you. Even the embarrassing ones! I told you about hooking up with Chaz, for chrissake."
"Okay, okay." I huff. "You don't have to guilt-trip me." I hold up my steaming mug of tea and another bare palm in the universal sign of surrender.
"So it is a guy!" Erin squeals and sits up on the couch, clapping her hands. "Who is he? Where'd you meet? What's he like?"
"We haven't met yet!" I protest. "It's probably nothing. I don't know."
"Oooh, a hookup? Has our sweet little Bonnie finally decided to slut it up?" Erin leaps off the couch to catch my shoulders and size me up. I'm in my usual jeans and a tighter T-shirt than usual, but nothing special. After all, Pierce is dressing me up like his personal doll anyway, so why bother?
Erin tsks, though. "If this is a first date, you can't go looking like that. It screams desperate dork."
"Gee, thanks. I wonder why I didn't tell you anything." I snort and swat at her hands.
"At least let me do your makeup," she protests. There's that pout again.
I sigh and roll my eyes, though secretly I love when she fusses like this. "Fine, but nothing too weird."
"Just some blush and subtle lips, I promise!" She bounds toward her bedroom. "Maybe some mascara," she calls over her shoulder. "Hmm, or eyeliner too . . ."
I sigh again and check the clock. "Fine, but I only have twenty minutes. Then I need to run."
"Wow." Erin returns with a scarily large makeup bag in tow. "Early for a date. This gonna be an all day thing, or does he work nights?"
I shrug again. This earns me another sigh.
"There's nothing to be ashamed of, you know," she tells me as she paints a pale pink gloss over my lips. "Everybody needs to get laid now and again. We're not Puritans. Hookups are perfectly normal. There, how's that?"
But as I check myself over in her hand mirror, admiring the subtle way she brought out the green in my eyes and made my skin look smoother, more uniform and less prone to blotchy red blushes, I wonder how normal she'd think this situation was. Being a virgin at 19 is weird enough. Agreeing to lose it to some guy from the internet might be a little more usual nowadays, I guess.
But getting paid for it? Oh hell no.
So I just smile, close-lipped, and thank my best friend for her help.
"Well if you won't give me his name, at least let me know where you're going," she demands as I'm throwing on my coat to leave. "If he's from online, he could be anyone, y'know."
I pause at the doorway, relenting. She's right. "I don't exactly know yet . . ." I admit, wincing when her eyes widen and her mouth drops open with a million more questions. I raise a hand to stem the tide. "It's a surprise. But I'll text you as soon as I find out, I swear. If I don't message you by two, feel free to send out the search parties."
She salutes. "Aye, aye, captain." Then she melts into a wink. "And hey, Bonnie? Do me a favor. Have some fucking fun, will you?"
So far, I am failing in my promise to Erin to have fun. There's nothing enjoyable about lying spread-legged on a sterile white table in a colorless room while a strange woman sticks her head between my legs. And that's before the hot wax.
I flinch as a huge glob of the searing hot stuff lands on my nethers. I've got my fists clenched at my side and my teeth gritted in preparation, but honestly, that wasn't so bad. I crack an eyelid to peer up at the woman, an Amazon of a redhead who looks like she could twist my leg off as easily as de-hair it.