Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Even if nothing can come of it, Renn’s attention is fun. It boosts my confidence. It makes me feel like Ella looks in the black dress—sexy.
I usually avoid being so outright playful with men, lest they get the wrong idea. There aren’t many men, maybe zero, that you can tease without them thinking you’ll sleep with them later. The line between flirting and fucking muddies too easily. But with Renn, too many reasons exist for us not to blur those lines, and we both know it.
I think.
“What’s that face about?” Ella asks, checking herself out in the mirror.
“Nothing. Just thinking.”
“About …”
“Why are you so nosy?” I laugh.
She whips around, hands on her hips. “Because I know the answer. I was just being polite and allowing you to bring him back up.”
My laughter fades.
“May I just make one quick point?” she asks.
“You’re going to anyway, so sure.”
“And you will never tell Brock I said this?”
I look at her warily.
“I’m taking that as a yes,” she says, perching on the stool again. “There’s a difference between flings, feelings, and forever.”
“Wow. Look at you getting deep.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m ignoring that.”
“Great.”
She doesn’t ignore it.
“Look, I haven’t seen you and Renn together in a while. But as soon as he walked toward us, it may as well have been the Fourth of July with the fireworks around the two of you.”
I force a swallow, wanting to squirm. But if I do, the water will splash, drawing attention to my discomfort with this conversation. That’s the last thing I need.
“I get why Brock doesn’t want you with him, and you know, he might be right,” she says.
“Oh, he’s right.”
She leans forward, her boobs ready to fall out of the cups. “But, Blakely—he might not be right either.”
I still. What’s she up to?
If there’s one opinion I trust more than any other, it’s Ella’s. She’s never used me for her own gain, asked me for anything, or given me bad advice. She has the best heart, means well, and would hop on a plane at the last minute to celebrate her friend’s birthday without blinking an eye.
We’ve talked about Renn a thousand times, but she’s never said anything quite like this.
“It’s not just Brock who thinks I should avoid Renn. It’s me too,” I say.
“Uh-huh.”
“I mean it, Ella. Before you came in here, I was thinking about how done I am with dating and how I’m going to find a nice guy with a nine-to-five who wants a puppy.” Or something like that. “Renn is not that guy. He’s the prototype of the same men I’ve been seeing—just maybe leveled up. But that would only make him worse. He would … swallow my whole existence.”
“Sounds like a good time to me.”
“Ella …”
She laughs. “Let me put it to you this way. Controlled explosions are better than ones that unravel in the heat of the moment. Trust me. I’ve been there.”
I hold my breath, letting her continue.
“I adore your brother,” she says, “but he has ulterior motives. He would be in the middle if you and Renn have a falling out. And that would affect him personally and professionally.”
Exactly.
“On the other hand, I have no personal agenda here. I just want what’s best for you. And as your friend, and as a bystander, and as a person who has eyeballs—”
I laugh.
“You and Renn are a ticking bomb. And I’m not saying you should get serious with him because I hear your objections and can’t argue them. But it’s okay just to have a good time with someone.”
She folds her hands on her lap.
Glad that’s over. “I think the red dress—”
“I haven’t made my point yet.”
“Well, get to the point then. I’m getting cold.”
She reaches over and turns on the hot water. “There. Stop bitching.”
I want to glare at her, but I can only laugh.
“If you’re going to fall over the ledge, it’s better to repel down it carefully with a rope and a pulley and those sticky shoes I saw on—”
“Ella.”
She sighs. “Right. Focus.” She closes her eyes briefly. “It might be better to accept reality and defuse this thing before it goes off in your face. That’s all I’m saying. I’ll help you pick up the shrapnel, but I’ll say I told you so the whole time as you recall what I’m guessing would be the best sexual experience of your life.”
I don’t know whether to laugh, roll my eyes, or allow that to make sense. Thankfully, she transitions out of it for me—like a real friend.
“Black or red?” She holds her arms out and twirls in a circle. “I know what I think. But I need your expert opinion.”
“Black.”
She smiles. “Right answer.”
I reach up and turn off the tap, keeping one arm glued to my chest.
“What are you wearing tonight?” she asks, getting back into Brock’s T-shirt.