Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Beck narrowed his eyes, studying me. “I think you do.”
“You haven’t even been here. How the hell do you know?”
“I know you don’t call me back. I know you don’t respond to my texts, not like you used to.”
“I respond when I get a chance.”
“Days later or while you’re drunk off your ass.” I started to protest, but he continued. “You’ve been alternating between acting like a hermit and trying to party like the world’s ending as you fuck your way through every twink in Manhattan.”
That was true, but I didn’t want to admit it. I’d already decided I needed to stop going out and living like partying was my job. I wanted to see if I could be celibate and sober, like adults were expected to be. Then I realized that was depressing as hell, and I went back to partying like I always had, but somehow, all the fun seemed to have been sucked out of it. “I’m just enjoying life like I always have.”
Ford huffed. “We’ve partied with you. We’ve seen the way you usually are. This is different.”
It was. I felt like I was desperately chasing something and nothing was satisfying me, not my usual activities, and not trying a quieter life.
“I video called him he the other day, and he was wearing sweatpants and a dirty NYU T-shirt.” Beck wrinkled his nose.
“I’m allowed to wear whatever I want in my own home.”
Ford’s eyes widened. “Jesus, it’s worse than I thought. You wore a stained T-shirt?”
“What the fuck is wrong with all of you?” While it was true I normally cared more about what I was wearing than almost anything else in my life, there was no need for them to panic.
“We’re worried about you,” Miles said.
“You didn’t even come to our Monday night meet-up last week,” Carter added.
Monday nights at Vincent’s, our favorite club, was one thing my friends had insisted was sacred. I’d been complaining about them not being available, but I was the one fucking it up. “I’m just….”
“Trying too hard to please our mom and making yourself miserable.”
I shook my head at my brother. “I’m just tired. All this working….”
“Nope. I’m not buying it. You used to survive on a couple hours of sleep a night. Working is no harder on you than constantly partying.”
“Everyone complained about how I needed to slow down and get more sleep.”
Miles frowned. “We teased you, and sometimes we did tell you off when you got out of hand, but we want you happy. If a different man every night is what you need, then that’s what you should have.”
I shook my head. “No amount of hot young men is making me happy. Nothing is fucking fun anymore.”
Miles laid a hand on my shoulder. “Why do you think that is?”
“Because you’re all fucking in love and boring.” I kept my tone light. I didn’t want them to know how much that bothered me, and it wasn’t even true if I was honest. Miles and Ben were happy to go out even if I had to worry Miles might kill someone for looking at Ben. I knew Ford and Carter would make time if I asked them, but I didn’t want to make them lose time with their men. They were so stinking in love, all of them, and Beck…he was young and idealistic, and he wanted all our family problems neatly solved when they were never going to be. Our mom was a bitch. She wanted to put all her children in a box, and while her approach with Beck was more about dismissal than constant criticism, I knew it hurt him, and I fucking hated it.
She treats you like shit too.
Yes, but I can handle it.
Can you? Or is it breaking you?
My heart beat so hard I felt like it might come through my chest. I didn’t want anyone to see how bad off I was. I didn’t want to be exposed like that. “I’ll be fine.”
“Not if you don’t take a break,” Beck said. “You need to get out of the city.”
“Not according to our mother.”
“Are you going to let her run your life?” Miles asked.
“No.”
Beck raised his brows. “No?”
“I don’t want to, but I told her I’d try this job. I was hoping for even an ounce of praise for my effort, but I’ve yet to get that.”
Miles huffed. “Fuck, Worth, you’re the best friend anyone could ask for.”
Had he really said that? “I can’t believe you—”
“Said something nice? I do on occasion.”
Beck, Carter, and Ford were also staring at him.
“Jesus, I’m a nice person.” Ford nearly choked and Carter burst out laughing. Miles actually looked a little hurt.
“Thank you,” I said. It did mean a lot to me that my friends actually cared.
“It’s true, and if you want to succeed here, let us help you. If you want something else, let us help you make that happen. You don’t owe anyone your happiness.”