Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
To no surprise, she doesn’t give me an immediate response.
I can’t exactly blame her.
I’m a little fucking speechless myself at the nonstop fuckshow our lives are turning into.
Wordlessly, I watch my best friend spiral internally, fingers and toes making the same drumming motions mine were earlier. Strands of hair are blown out of her face. Anxiously tucked behind her ear. Swatted at when they make the mistake of tickling the area. For what feels like six hundred deployments, Arley remains completely silent and keeps her stare on anything that isn’t me.
When her eyes finally find mine, her shoulders are dropped in surrender. “Does being ripped out of my normal life, not allowed to go home, and then having to pretend to be dating my best friend constitute as a good reason to get drunk before 8 a.m.?”
“Affirmative.”
“Then add wine to that grocery list, Cowboy.”
Happy to hear the nickname despite what’s in store for us is what allows me to unexpectedly grin with ease. “Roger that, Angel Cake.”
Chapter 9
Slater
I’ve made emergency slings in the rainforest.
I’ve removed shrapnel in minus four-degree temperatures.
I’ve even performed a cricothyrotomy on a rescue boat in the middle of the goddamn Caribbean Sea.
I can do this.
I can pick out a box of tampons.
Or pads.
Or…a cup?
Wait.
What the fuck is a menstrual cup?!
My head cranes slightly forward to read the description that immediately has me sealing my lips together in a tight line.
Nope.
No huh.
Not buying whatever the fuck that is.
Shifting my attention over to the colorful boxes, I resume my search for what I thought was going to be an easy thing to acquire.
But…it’s not.
First question…Why are there numbers? And how do they work? Is it like the DEFCON stages?
And is the difference between thin and maxi like thin and thick? Why not just say thick?
Fucking. Hell.
Why do some of these things have wings?!
What’s the point of that?
Is it decorative?
They don’t make decorative lady products, do they?
Frustration reroutes my attention to the other side where the tampons are taunting me.
What’s this “radiant” shit about?
And pearl?
Is that the one to get because I think she’s a gem?
Because she’s the one woman I would do anything in the whole goddamn world for including invading a hostile territory I know nothing about to return with the lifesaving required target.
I give my chin a contemplative stroke and continue searching the options, hoping I start to pick up on the foreign language sooner rather than later.
Not only because I want to get back to Angel Cake, but because I don’t know how long she’ll be able to hold her cover as my girlfriend.
The very thing I wish wasn’t a cover.
And strangely enough…I can’t deny this gut feeling that she wishes the same thing.
Maybe it was her statement of thinking she’s out of my league.
Or maybe it was her award-winning response to Aviva’s congratulations to our couple status.
Or maybe it was the reaction she had when I gave her a be back soon kiss on the cheek.
Call me crazy – I mean I fucking am nowadays – but I swear I heard her happy hum.
It’s the same noise she makes when she bites into a good slice of pepperoni and black olive pizza, or her favorite Fall Out Boy song randomly comes up on our shared playlist. It’s this tiny, simple sound that tells me everything is momentarily right in her world.
And she made it when my lips touched her skin.
That’s gotta mean something, doesn’t it?
Letting my eyes scan the phrases again like “sport” and “super” and “shielded for odor” has me doing something that’s a rarity for me.
Retreating.
Slowly backing up out of the aisle with my basket is executed on a series of nods.
I’m not actually retreating…just…regrouping.
I need a moment to get my bearings.
Do some shit I actually understand.
Warm up like I’m back in basic versus having moved onto all the advanced warfare training.
Turning into the open area, I casually make my way towards the extensive wine selection of The Concession Stand. One of the unique things about living downtown on the edge of the Locker District is that almost all of the businesses – including this local grocery store – have sports related names. Pretty sure it's a fucking requirement. Even Luxury Box Tower – the building housing my penthouse – is sports related in title. There are a couple athletes that call the place home like the Dragons’ very own, Tanner “Snowman” Frosky, who lives on the floor below me.
Nice enough guy.
Great fucking player.
Enroute to the alcohol section, I decide to make a couple pitstops starting in the bread aisle. While I prefer tortillas for basically everything someone might use bread for, it’ll probably be in my best interest to get Arley a few things she prefers, especially since we’re not sure how long she’ll be at my place.
I mean…I’d love for her to stay forever.