Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 87856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Julie: Did you like it?
Imogen: Sorta. Sorta not. It's weird. But it's nice with a guy you like, a guy who's patient with you.
Julie: Patrick?
Imogen: Yes.
Julie: Zack?
Imogen: Sometimes. There is something sexy about it. But when a guy pushes… that kind of ruins the whole thing.
Julie: Did he go down on you? Was he the first?
Imogen: He was.
Julie: The winter formal guy didn't offer?
Imogen: He did, but I was too nervous. Embarrassed, I guess. People said it was a way to stay in control, to keep your clothes on, and it is, in some ways, but it's not in others.
Julie: Maybe I should stick with women.
Imogen: Whoever treats you well.
Julie: Was that hard to say?
Imogen: Yes.
Julie: Sexist!
Imogen: I know. Women are as bad as men sometimes, but not there.
Julie: How would you know?
Imogen: I know men.
My phone buzzes with another text.
Patrick.
Patrick: I've been listening to Fiona Apple all morning.
Imogen: This is dirty talk.
Patrick: Call me and we'll keep talking.
Chapter Thirty-Five
PATRICK
Imogen texts back right away.
Imogen: I'm on with my sister.
Patrick: And?
Imogen: I have homework.
Patrick: And?
Imogen: You'll enjoy waiting more than I will. Are you home?
Patrick: I have a few hours of work here. After that, I won't sit around waiting.
Imogen: Good. I'd rather catch you when you're in public.
She's good at this. Too good at this.
Imogen: Soon. I promise.
Soon is too far from now. Not because I need to see her, though I do. Not because I want to hear her groan in my ear, though I do.
Because soon leaves time for my thoughts to return, for me to ask myself how long I can keep this to myself.
I need to tell her eventually. But not today, not on the phone, not until I find a way to explain myself.
I can take a few days.
That's reasonable.
I try to clear my head with a sketch session. Then a workout at the fancy gym in Marina Del Rey (they transferred Deidre's membership to me and she'd prepaid for years). A shower. Dinner.
Imogen sends a picture with a note.
Imogen: You're the one who has to wait this time.
Her legs stretched over the sheets, her panties around her ankles.
Sexy as fuck.
And with her, sex is easy. Is it so bad if I keep things sexual for a few days? If I call her and get her off and make sure she's satisfied?
I'm not going to win the Nobel Prize for generosity (It should be a category) but I am going to make her come.
And that counts for a lot.
Still, the next time my phone buzzes, with a new post from Hearts and Thorns my hands itch to read. My head screams this is fucked up and take every one of her thoughts at the same time.
So I do the last thing I want to do.
I ask for help.
I swing by the fancy organic store on the way to Luna's place, buy the single-origin chocolate Oliver recommended, grab two overpriced iced coffee drinks from the cooler.
Luna opens the door with a smile. The second she looks at my face, she shakes her head. "Tricky, you look terrible."
"You give great compliments."
She laughs. "You're still beautiful. But you look strung out. Like you haven't slept or ate."
I hold up the bag.
"You didn't have to bribe me." She motions for me to come in and closes the door behind me.
"You don't want the chocolate?"
"That's not what I mean." She motions to the white leather couch in the middle of the room. "You want anything else? Coffee, tea, alcohol? Mom opened a bottle of wine last night."
"I'm good." I sit on the expensive white leather.
She places the drinks on the coffee table and plops on the couch across from me. "Ollie is on his way."
I raise a brow.
"You need backup."
"Relationship advice from Oliver?"
"Which of you is in a long-term relationship?" she asks.
"We don't talk about this shit," I say.
"I'll send him outside if you want. He was already coming and I… if this is a real girl-talk emergency, I'll send him home. I promise."
But she doesn't want to cancel plans with her boyfriend for this conversation. Because he'll get jealous or because he'll feel neglected or because she wants to see him.
It would have annoyed me a few weeks ago.
Now, I get it.
"Sure." I open the bottle of cold brew. "Thanks for making the time."
"So formal," she says. "Is it that bad?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"She looked a little shell-shocked at the party," Luna says. "Do you know what happened?"
"Dare said something about Deidre."
"Oh." Luna's eyes turn down. She knows I lost my sister—everyone knows—but in the same way I know her parents divorced. I don't know the details. I didn't see the mess. I didn't discuss it with her.
She kept her pain to herself.
Or, at least, she kept it from me.
"It's kind of a long story," I say.
"You're messed up over it?" she asks.