Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
We stop in front of the hostess stand and Keegan hands her something. Maybe a reservation slip? I’m not sure what restaurant it is, but when we follow her down the hall and through a set of double doors, I have my answer.
“The movies?” I question, getting a good look at the massive screen in the front of the large room that’s filled with rows of reclining chairs and bar tables, so people can eat their food while they watch the movie. There aren’t a ton of people in the theater, but there’s still quite a few.
“You said you didn’t want to go out to dinner, so I figured I would take you in. Now I get dinner and a movie.” He winks then follows the hostess to where our seats are—directly in the center of the theater.
“What movie are we watching?” I ask, once we get situated.
“There were only three options,” he admits. “A kid’s movie, a newer adult movie, or a classic. Since you were reading Wuthering Heights, I went with the classic.” He shrugs sheepishly.
The lights drop and the commercials start. When the opening scene begins, I know right away what movie it is. “Armageddon is not a classic!” I whisper-yell through a giggle, and Keegan grins.
“Really?” he questions. “Well, I know it’s old. My dad took my mom to see it before I was born.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s still not a classic.”
We enjoy the movie while we eat our food—both ordering a burger and a shake. When we’re done eating, and the server has taken our trash, Keegan reclines in his chair, so I do the same. His hand rests on the armrest, and I notice little by little it gets closer to mine. Biting down on my bottom lip, I hide the smile that’s trying to break free, focusing on the movie. Eventually, Keegan’s fingers reach mine, and he links his hand with mine. The moment our skin touches, butterflies flutter in my belly. Then he faces me, and he grins the most gorgeous shy grin, and the butterflies go into attack mode.
Until our parents died, Sierra and I attended private school. One would think the wealthier you are, the higher class and more respectable you are, but the truth is quite the opposite. The kids we hung out with smoked, drank, did drugs, and had sex like it was going out of style. Guys didn’t date since they could easily find girls to fuck. Sierra and I both lost our virginity our freshman year of high school. We’d never even been on a date. We all just hung out. I guess if it’s all you’ve ever known, you don’t know what you’re missing out on. But sitting here with Keegan, on what feels a lot like a date, I feel like I’ve missed out. There’s something about actually spending time with a guy, wondering if he’s going to hold my hand, lean over, and kiss me. He’s actually trying to get to know me, woo me, instead of diving right into my pants.
The movie ends, and we exit the theater, our hands still threaded together. When we get outside, the resort looks like it’s been transformed into a college students’ party oasis. Music is pumping from somewhere. Several people are in the pool horsing around with beach balls and inner tubes. There’s a table set up in the corner where college-age kids are playing beer pong.
“Hey, Keegan!” someone yells, and we both turn to see where the voice is coming from. “Get over here, man.”
I spot the guy from earlier standing in the shallow end of the pool with a girl tucked under his arm. Without a shirt on, I can tell he’s fit like Keegan but without all the tattoos.
“Those are the friends I came with,” Keegan tells me.
“Oh, well, you can go hang out with them.” I pull my hand out of his. “I should probably get back to my hotel anyway.”
“You could invite your friends over here,” he suggests.
“I’m not exactly on speaking terms with the person I’m here with,” I admit. When he gives me a confused look, I shake my head. “It’s a long story.”
“You’re here with someone you’re not speaking to?” he clarifies, not letting it go. “So why do you have to go back to your hotel room then?”
Reaching back, I scratch the back of my neck, unsure of how to answer him. “I guess I don’t have to go back,” I tell him. “I just figured you’d want to hang out with your friends. I’ve kind of monopolized your entire day.”
“Only because I made you.” He smirks playfully.
Taking my hand in his, he leads me away from the music, yelling to his friend that he’ll be back soon. “Why don’t you grab your suit and we can hang out for a little while?”