Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Because I might have been wrong all along. Maybe love is a chemical reaction that you can’t control. But that doesn’t mean it’s smart to succumb to it … even if you want to.
I snuggle deeper against him, kissing his shoulder and squeezing my eyes shut.
“I love you, too,” I whisper, and try to fall asleep.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
Gianna
Drake: First thing Dad asked when I walked in the door was if you were coming. Guess you made quite the impression.
I smile at his text, pulling my visor down to shield my face from the early afternoon sun.
Audrey bops along to a song on the radio from the driver’s seat. She borrowed her dad’s truck for our trip to Pearl’s, so I didn’t object to her choice of music. Since I didn’t say anything inappropriate to her brother, who showed up unexpectedly, she didn’t choose bubble gum pop.
Me: What can I say? I’m an impressive girl.
Drake: There are many impressive qualities about you. If you’d like, I can name them off one by one tonight while you have my dick in your mouth.
Me: You sure know how to make a girl happy.
My core clenches at the thought of being on my knees in front of Drake. I’ve always loved giving blow jobs—there’s something innately powerful about making a man, no matter how alpha he thinks he is, lose control. But it’s become something more with Drake, something beyond knowing I can make him come undone with the flick of my tongue.
It’s not so much about the control of his pleasure. It’s kind of about giving up control of mine.
Drake: I try.
I know you do.
“Is that Drake?” Audrey asks, turning down the radio.
“Yeah.”
A twinge tugs at my heart, a sensation that’s new to me. It started last night after Drake’s sleep-talking episode. It’s a feeling of overwhelming gratitude mixed with the anticipation of incomprehensible loss rolled into one with a timer shoved in the top. The only time the pressure subsides is when I’m in his arms.
Talk about inconvenient.
Me: Want to come over tonight?
My brain tries to stop my thumbs from pressing the letters on the keypad, but fails to prevent them from sending the text. It’s tricky because I’m stressed, so I want to be with him. He has a way of making me feel better. Well, many ways, really. But I’m stressed because I know I can’t keep being with him.
That it will come to an end.
How do you manage that? You don’t. You grab a flare, hold your breath, and ride the sinking ship until the very last minute.
Drake: Absolutely. You can show me your fancy new coat tree.
Me: It’s SO GOOD. Just wait until you see it.
Drake: I’m excited to see what you do with it. It’ll be amazing, I’m sure.
I frown, wishing he’d just be mean or something. Can’t he be an asshole? Doesn’t he have it in him?
Make this easy for me, Drake.
I look up just in time. “Make a right here,” I say, pointing at a road beside a church sign.
“That’s not what the navigation says.”
“I know, but Pearl told me that the navigation gets wonky out here and to turn beside the church sign with yellow letters.”
Audrey shrugs. “Whatever you say.”
Me: We’re close to Pearl’s. Have fun with your parents, and I’ll see you tonight.
Drake: Can’t wait. Be safe, babe.
“I can’t with this guy,” I say, huffing in frustration—more at myself than anything.
“Why?”
“Because, Auddie, he’s literally perfect. He opens the car doors in public and then fucks my face in private.”
She winces, but I ignore her.
“He’s kind. He loves my art, and he never tells me that I’m being too loud or that my house is a mess, which you know is always the case. And I just …” I sigh, dejected. “And it doesn’t matter.”
Audrey licks her lips before nibbling on the bottom one. “Why wouldn’t it? I don’t understand.”
“He told me he loved me,” I say, the words falling out of my mouth like a lead balloon. Audrey’s eyes go wide. “He doesn’t know he told me. Turns out that Drake is a sleep-talker.”
She grips the steering wheel tightly, trying—and failing—not to look surprised. “So what are you going to do?” she asks gently.
“Fuck if I know. I figure that I have less than two weeks left in this science experiment of ours, so I’m going to enjoy it. Maybe he’ll get sick of me before that, or he’ll realize that I’m a good time, not a long time. That’ll solve my problem.”
Or, maybe this thing with the podcast will come to a head, and he’ll realize that I’m not the brilliant businesswoman that he thinks that I am, and that’ll turn him off.
We drive along the country road quietly for a few miles. Houses are sprinkled among the fields, and nearly all of them have a barn and chickens running in the yard. I lean my head back and sigh.