Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
Sure, I’m thinking about beginnings with Tyler, but I’m not thinking about serious beginnings. Because, really, how serious can a relationship between a sex addict and a love addict be?
“Liv…” Day says slowly. “You can breathe, you know, sweetie.”
I shake my head. “Nope, nope, and nope.”
“No, you’re not going to meet his sister yet?” Day raises her eyebrows with an amused twist of her lips.
“Nope. I’m not going to. I’m going to hide for the next three weeks, because then it’ll be, like, a month and a totally acceptable duration of a relationship for that stuff.”
“Liv, snap the hell out of it!” Her words are short and sharp.
I blink harshly.
“Honestly, I can’t decide if you’re addicted to love or a commitment-phobe.”
“Both. Definitely both.”
“Don’t tell me you’re seriously thinking that being with Tyler is a bad idea.”
I lean back in the chair. “I’ve never not thought that. He’s a very, very bad idea.”
“You really piss me off sometimes.”
“Good. At least the feeling is mutual.” I grin and she returns it.
“Seriously, meeting his sister isn’t a big deal. You don’t even have to meet her with him. We’ll go for drinks or something.” She shrugs. “Aaron’s working late, so I’m basically sitting around like a dick every night, doing nothing.”
“Mmph,” I grunt.
I know there’s absolutely no way I’m going to get out of this. I’m going to have to meet Tessa and accept that this relationship is heading to pretty serious pretty damn fast.
The hilarious thing is that the way we feel, is about as serious as it’s gonna get.
I stare into my coffee with this thought. Strip away the sex and the jokes and you get the reality of us. Of LivandTyler. We are addiction, alone and together, and we’re intense and obsessive and probably a little destructive.
We’re unhealthy. It would be naïve to convince myself otherwise. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be healthy eventually.
I hope.
Dayton sighs and glances at her watch. “I have to go to a shoot. Want to come with me?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Because Tyler will like that.”
“It’s you,” she replies, standing up and shrugging her jacket on. “He likes anything to do with you.”
I try not to roll my eyes. “Fine. I’ll come.”
“God, Liv, I can feel your excitement from here.”
“I know. I’m about to burst with it. Can’t you tell?” I follow her outside to the sound of her laughter. “I’ll follow you there.”
She nods and gets into her car. I do the same, checking my phone before starting the engine. Day pulls out of the parking lot and I drive after her.
I’m not sure how I feel about watching Tyler work. Since I’ve managed my addiction through avoidance for six years, putting myself in a situation that could make it worse doesn’t seem like a good idea.
Shit, I know it isn’t. But I’m still driving, because right now, my need to see Tyler is more than my need to run away from watching him take pictures of another girl.
If that’s what he’s doing. I don’t know. I should have asked. I shouldn’t have agreed to come. I should turn around and go home and have a staring competition with my cat.
I nibble on my nails at the intersection. Since they’re fake, the motion does nothing but comfort me. My jaw moves in tiny little tics, clenching when I have to pull away.
This is dumb. This whole thing.
My heartbeat is steadily growing faster with both fear and anticipation. And jealousy of something that might not be. Jealousy because I don’t want him to look at another girl, although it’s his job. Jealously because I wish I could lock him away and be the model.
I drive into a parking lot behind Dayton. My palms are sweating against the steering wheel, and I take a minute to take a deep breath while she gathers her stuff from her car.
I should still turn around and go.
I don’t.
I grab my purse and get out.
“Are you okay?” My best friend pauses by my car.
“Fine. Where are we?”
“Tyler’s new studio. Well, I say studio. It’s just a room and a kitchen right now.”
He has a studio? “Oh.” I swallow back annoyance of another little thing she knows that I don’t.
Fuck. This is my best friend!
Next time I come across a frying pan, I’m smacking myself over the fucking head with it. With any luck, I’ll knock some sense into myself. With a lot of luck, I’ll knock myself out so it won’t even matter.
Day leads me into the building. And she’s right—it’s not decorated or even particularly organized. Oddly enough, the lack of organization doesn’t surprise me. Tyler Stone is as organized as a freakin’ junkyard.
“Cooey!” Dayton chimes, setting her things on a desk in the corner.
With a mug in his hand, Tyler appears from what I’m guessing is the kitchen. “You’re late.”