Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Facts. I hadn’t said hello. I was too busy staring at Harris and flirting with him.
“Please don’t give him my number. Don’t you dar—”
But Annabelle is already typing, thumbs flying across her screen like some kind of texting ninja.
“Annabelle!” I lunge halfway across the table to yank the phone out of her grasp, but she’s too quick for me, wrenching it out of reach, cackling like the traitor she is.
“This is for your own good!” she singsongs, waving the phone tauntingly in the air. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”
“So many things,” I snap, straightening in my seat like I’m about to present a PowerPoint on all the ways this could go horribly wrong. “For starters, what if he’s messing with me? What if he’s some kind of pathological flirt who says that to every girl he meets?”
“Okay, drama queen.” Annabelle rolls her eyes. “You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re gorgeous. Why wouldn’t he be into you?”
I open my mouth to argue—because arguing is what I do—but the words die on my tongue. I blink at her. “You say that like dating is easy.”
“It is easy.” She sips her drink, annoyingly casual. “Confidence, Lucy. Fake it till you make it.”
“Confidence isn’t my problem.” I slouch in the booth. “Men like Harris are my problem. He’s too much.”
“Too much what?”
“Too much charm. Too much everything.” I wave a hand vaguely in the air. “He’s the kind of guy who could talk his way out of a speeding ticket and get the cop’s numb—”
My phone buzzes, cutting me off mid-sentence. Annabelle arches an eyebrow, eyes like a hawk zeroing in on its prey.
“Gee. Who could that be?” She feigns innocence as if she didn’t know who was messaging me.
I glance at the screen, heart stumbling. Then I groan. “I seriously hate you.”
“You love me.”
“No, I really don’t.”
Annabelle is undeterred from torturing me. “Then why are you smiling?”
Am I?
My fingers go to my face, and I touch my mouth.
Shit.
I am smiling.
Chapter 7
Harris:
Miss me yet?
Lucy:
I would have to know who this is first before I can answer that question.
Harris:
You know who this is, don’t be coy.
Lucy:
Give me one hint . . .
Harris:
Hot but Wet
Lucy:
Wow. You are so full of yourself.
Harris:
I’m full of myself for telling you I’m wet?
Lucy:
No, because you called yourself hot.
Harris:
I’m only hot because I’m in the sauna.
Lucy:
Oh. Whoops.
Harris:
But I’m also hot.
Lucy:
LOL
Harris:
Did that make you laugh?
Lucy:
Wow, you really think you’re irresistible, don’t you?
Harris:
Do you agree?
Lucy:
I’ll let you believe whatever helps you sleep at night.
Harris:
Oh, I sleep fine.
Lucy:
I am not taking that bait.
Harris:
What bait?
Lucy:
The bait where you say you’re in bed. Then I ask “What are you wearing?” Then you say “nothing.” Then you try to lure me into a sex exchange.
Harris:
Actually, Little Miss Know It All, I’m now post-sauna and wearing the flannel pajama bottoms with Santa faces that my mom gave me for Christmas last year. Oh. With a hoodie that says “Terry Crews for President”
Lucy:
I have no idea what to say to that.
Harris:
Sounds like you don’t think Terry should be President . . .
Lucy:
LOL stop it.
Harris:
You’re laughing. I take that as a win.
Lucy:
Fine. I’ll let you have this round.
Harris:
Finally, some honesty.
Lucy:
Don’t let it go to your head.
Harris:
Too late.
Harris:
So. What are you wearing?
Lucy:
Dang It! What did I say about that question? It leads to no good!
Harris:
Relax. All I meant was, are you in comfy pajamas or are you one of those people who sleeps naked like a psychopath?
Lucy:
Definitely not naked. Sweatpants and a college sweatshirt, but at some point I’ll put on shorts.
Harris:
What I’m hearing is that you probably sleep with a ceiling fan on?
Lucy:
I can confirm.
Lucy:
Also, why are you in bed so early???
Harris:
I have a yoga class at the ass crack of dawn. And as a rule, I generally wake up early. 4:30 when I’m not on vacation.
Lucy:
I draw the line at any o’clock before 5
Harris:
Cold plunge, cup of coffee. Sometimes I run. What about you?
Lucy:
Wake up at 5:30ish, depending. I started yoga at dawn for your friends, but word got out. Typically my first classes aren’t until 8.
Harris:
How many classes a day do you have?
Lucy:
Four or five, depending on the day. I mix in private sessions too.
Harris:
Private sessions, huh?
Lucy:
Don’t even Think about it. The answer is no.
Harris:
LOL, wow. Not even at a premium, eh?
Lucy:
You couldn’t afford me.
Harris:
Oh, so now I’m broke?
Lucy:
No, they’re really expensive rates.
Harris:
You sure they’re not excuses to avoid spending more time with me?
Lucy:
Or Maybe I’m playing hard to get.
Harris:
Oh, so you admit it—you want me to chase you.
Lucy:
I didn’t say that.
Harris:
You kind of did . . .
Lucy:
Maybe I’m curious.
Harris:
Curious about what?
Lucy:
About what you’d even plan if I did let you take me out.
Harris:
Oh, that’s easy. I’d take you hiking.
Lucy:
Hiking?
Harris:
Or not.
Lucy:
I mean, it’s not my first choice . . . even though we’re both “athletic.”
Harris:
Uh. Why is “athletic” in quotes?
Lucy:
I’m saying, that because someone Looks like they’re good at sports, doesn’t mean that they are. You know? Some guys go to the gym and are in shape. That doesn’t necessarily mean they can play soccer or have stamina.