Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“Yeah, I got it made last week. Thought free advertising wouldn’t hurt.” She takes a step toward me, opening her arms, her smile wide and free and open. “I haven’t seen you in weeks, Laz, where’s my hug?”
Jesus, it’s already awkward. Normally I would give her a hug without thinking but now I’m so hyper aware of everything I’m doing around her.
She’s still your Marina, still your friend, no matter what you’re feeling.
I step into her, wrapping my arms around her while hers go tight around me. I close my eyes for a second, breathe her in, feel every nerve in my body spring to life. The longer I hold onto her, the harder I’m going to get.
“You look bee-tiful,” I say lamely, trying to make it all a joke because if it becomes a joke, then I don’t have to be afraid.
She laughs, that gorgeous sound, and smacks my arm.
God, is this flirting? Is this just us?
When the fuck did I start worrying about everything?
This isn’t me.
“You better keep all those bee puns to yourself this weekend,” she says, heading to the passenger door which I quickly open for her. “It’s all about you now. Are you nervous?”
“Yes,” I tell her, going around to my door and getting behind the wheel. I twist in my seat to face her, my arms resting on the wheel. “I’m nervous.”
But she doesn’t need to know that the book launch and party are the least of my concerns right now. It’s she that’s making me nervous. Making me wonder what I might do around her. I feel like that ridge we were previously tiptoeing across is coming to a blunt end really soon and we’ll have to decide which way we’re falling.
It’s going to be a change either way.
“You’re going to be fine,” she says, reaching out and putting her hand on my shoulder. I can feel the heat of her palm through my T-shirt. It trips the memory of us after our date, when she grabbed my face, a desperate grip, and kissed me like she’d been starving for me her whole life. My heart starts to skip at the thought and I’m living it all over again.
I lick my lips. “Promise?”
“Promise,” she says, her eyes focusing on my lips for a moment before she blinks. Meets my eyes. Smiles. “Now let’s get going, we don’t want to miss our flight.”
Naomi left for New York yesterday to have some early girl time with Jane, so it’s just the two of us on the flight. It’s funny how you can know someone for a long time, sit beside them on countless drives, but when you get on a plane with them, it’s like entering new territory.
I tell her this just as the plane leaves the gate and starts taxing down the long runways of LAX.
“Yeah, you’re right,” she says. “Our relationship just entered a new level. Like, you didn’t know I need a window seat.”
Naturally, when I found out I gave her the window seat, though now I’m squished between her and this heavyset guy with big elbows.
“And,” she goes on, “I didn’t realize you needed so much legroom.” She glances down at my legs which are almost askew trying to fit under the seat in front of me.
“These seats aren’t built for anyone over six feet tall,” I tell her. I side-eye the guy next to me. Or anyone over three hundred pounds. Hell, I barely fit myself and I consider myself to be in tip top shape.
“And that you’re a nervous flier,” she goes on.
“What makes you think I’m a nervous flier?” I ask.
She lifts her hand and points subtly at my headphones. “You have headphones at the ready, I saw you take an Ativan earlier, and you’ve been tapping your fingers incessantly so far and you’re not even listening to music yet.”
“I’m a musician. That should cover all of that.”
I won’t dare mention that I actually am afraid of flying and I actually consulted the 8 Ball before the flight, asking if the plane was going to crash. It said MEH, which wasn’t very comforting.
“Right,” she says, leaning in close to me so our faces are inches apart. It would be so easy, so fucking easy, to lean in closer and kiss her. Inappropriate, for sure, but easy. “I’ll be watching you.”
“I wouldn’t mind that one bit,” I murmur to her, my eyes never leaving hers.
Don’t you fucking see? Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?
And then something comes across her eyes, a spark of enlightenment. But she doesn’t balk from it. She doesn’t move. Her eyes remain locked with mine. I’m wondering if my heart might just leap out from my chest. Land in her lap. At least then she’d see.
Then Mr. Elbow Elbowson jabs me in my ribs.