Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“What are you doing up?” I asked, almost accusatory. “You’re supposed to be at a wedding tomorrow.”
“The Godfather was on TV, and I got sucked in. Then the second one came on and I thought, why not? Nothing going on tomorrow, right?” She paused. “What are you doing up? You’re supposed to be in a wedding in less than twelve hours. And how did your number get into my phone?”
“Sorry about that.” I should be sorry. It had been a supremely creepy move, in hindsight. “I thought it would be funny.”
“It was funny,” she said, and added, softer, “and fun.”
“Come over,” I said without thinking. It was the alcohol. It was the fact that my best friend was about to get married, and I’d just called off yet another engagement. It wasn’t because I needed to see Charlotte, specifically. It couldn’t be. Because if I had a crush on my best friend’s little sister, that would be pathetic and immature and...
She giggled. She had the sexiest giggle.
“Stay the night with me.” Was I begging? That had very much sounded like begging.
“The night is almost over,” she pointed out. “And you’re clearly drunk. And I think my parents would notice if I wasn’t here in the morning.”
“Fuck those parents,” I blurted, the drunkenness making me a little too forceful.
She laughed again. “Wow, you are lit up.”
“Like the Eiffel Tower.” I paused. “Have you ever seen the Eiffel Tower? We could go there.”
“Mmm, I’m not sure we have time to fit a jaunt to Paris in between the wedding and the reception.” She was reminding me that this would be over soon. We would be over soon.
“Then come over. We’ll look at a picture of it.” I sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m drunk and I feel weird.”
“I feel weird, too,” she admitted. “Not about you. The whole wedding... thing.”
“I ate dinner by a bear.” I held back a risky burp. “That was the most pants-shittingly terrifying thing I’ve ever lived through.”
“I know!” Her enthusiasm was a little too loud. I held the phone away from my ear. “It sat at the table like a person and ate off the plate!”
“They served it a meal.” The mind boggled at that. “Scott said they do that all the time. If there’s a holiday or a party, the bear is there. And he said Daisy used to sleep in her own twin bed in Lauren’s bedroom.”
“Do you think they’ll take Daisy on their honeymoon?” Charlotte joked. “She could take photos for them.”
“Probably not. Having witnessed her trick for drinking out of a glass, dexterity is not her strong suit.” I groaned. “I never want to be that close to any animal that big, ever again.”
“Yeah,” Charlotte said quietly. Then, “Do you really want me to come over and spend the night?”
“I really do. And that’s not the booze. I like you.” I stopped to quickly correct myself. “Not like you, like you. Not ‘do you like me, check yes or no.’ I like you as a friend I have sex with.”
“I appreciate that. I also like you as a friend you have sex with.” When she said it, the words didn’t sound quite as stupid. “Okay. Give me fifteen minutes?”
“I can come get you—”
“No, no. You stay right there. You don’t want to be the first alligator casualty on one of your own properties.” She did make a very good point.
“Okay. I will stay put. I’ll have somebody meet you to bring you up.” And in the meantime, I would brew every k-cup in the kitchen and try to sober up enough to hold a conversation.
Not sober enough to make sure your dick works? I hadn’t even thought of that. I’d invited her over without intending to have sex? That wasn’t like me.
Unless…
“I’ll see you soon,” she promised. “Don’t fall asleep.”
How could I fall asleep? I would miss precious time with the woman I was about to have a very, very difficult time letting go.
* * * *
(Charlotte)
I knocked on the door shortly after our call, and he opened it almost before I dropped my hand. Like he’d been standing right behind it, waiting for me. He grinned, threw his arm around my shoulder, and guided me through the door on a waft of peppermint and booze.
I pushed him gently away. “It’s not working.”
He frowned, his eyes visibly struggling to focus. “What’s not working?”
“The mint. It’s not working.” I sniffed the air and wrinkled my nose. “Or your cologne. Who wears cologne anymore?”
“People who are sweaty and gross and don’t have time for a shower before a hot girl shows up,” he stated unapologetically. “And I was partying pretty hard.”
“I can smell that. But it’s not a very wild bachelor party if it wrapped up by three.” I wandered into the living room, which was far too clean to have hosted a party, even for my boring brother. I wondered where they’d been and what they’d done.