Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
—Remmy, who learned about pot brownies that day.
Back at Harper’s apartment, we ended up where we always did—on the couch. Chinese takeout cartons balanced on the coffee table, chopsticks abandoned, her curled up with a spring roll while I pulled my laptop across my knees.
It was… comfortable. Too comfortable. I’d left earlier because I had work—yes, but I also needed to get my ass away from her and into the real world, the more we played house the more I wished I had my own toothbrush and special towel and guy soap in the shower—a loofah, see I was turning into the worst version of myself. Clingy. Needy. Desperate.
And my brother had been zero help. His only advice was take things slowly see how they go only for Maya to yell asking if we’ve banged yet. Banged, her choice of words. I got daily texts from her saying the sexual tension was off the charts and that we had an entire Reddit thread dedicated to the lore behind our friendship. Somehow someone had gotten pictures of me in college—not good ones—and I’m one hundred percent sure she’s the one who uploaded them—especially since the only people who really took pictures of me were my brother and Harper.
Whatever. One date down. One more to go. We’d make it through for the fans or whatever, for the networks and then we’d be done. Everything would be fine and things would go back to normal. We had maybe what? A week left tops. I clicked open my email and was halfway into answering a tech question when Harper huffed loudly enough for me to know it wasn’t an accident.
I didn’t look up. “Yes, princess?”
“You’ve touched that computer more than you’ve touched me.”
I blinked up at her. “Excuse me?”
She gestured with her chopsticks, stabbing the air or maybe she was imagining me with the force in which she stabbed said air. “You. Laptop. Romance of the century. Meanwhile, I’m over here, tragically neglected.”
A slow grin tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Oh, I didn’t know you wanted to be touched so badly.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s not—”
I leaned in, just to see her squirm. Her breath hitched, her lips parted—
And then she screamed bloody murder.
“SPIDER!”
I flinched so hard my laptop nearly hit the floor. “Where?”
“There!” She pointed at the wall like she was reporting a UFO sighting. “Kill it! Kill it now!”
I squinted. “It’s the size of a nickel.”
“It has eight legs and a death wish!” she shrieked, scrambling onto the couch cushions like the thing could leap tall buildings.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fine. Rock, paper, scissors.”
Her head snapped toward me. “What?”
“Loser kills it.”
“You’re insane.”
I held out my fist. “One… two… three.”
We both threw scissors.
“Again.”
“Cheater,” she hissed, fist pumping.
Second round. She threw paper, I threw rock.
“Yes!” She pointed dramatically. “You kill it.”
“Unbelievable.” I shoved off the couch, muttering under my breath, and grabbed the nearest magazine. One whack and the spider was nothing but a smear.
When I turned, Harper was peeking over the couch arm like a traumatized meerkat.
“All clear, princess,” I said dryly.
She sagged in relief, then smirked. “See? Was that so bad?”
I rolled my eyes, but my pulse was still too fast from the way she’d jumped when I leaned in. From the way she was looking at me now, like maybe she’d wanted me closer before the arachnid apocalypse.
She was still perched on the couch cushions, grinning smugly like she hadn’t just made me risk my life against a nickel-sized spider.
“See?” she said. “You can touch things other than your laptop.”
I tossed the magazine onto the table and leaned against the back of the couch, closer than I should have. “Careful. Keep pushing and I might prove it.”
Her smile faltered, just slightly. Our eyes locked.
The air shifted—heavy, charged. She wasn’t laughing anymore. Neither was I.
I reached up, brushed a strand of hair from her face. Her breath caught. She leaned the tiniest bit closer.
God, she was right there.
My mouth was inches from hers when—
BANG.
A car door slammed outside. Voices carried up through the thin windows, followed by the pop of a camera flash.
Harper jerked back like she’d been burned, clutching a throw pillow to her chest. I scrubbed a hand down my face, biting back a curse.
So close. Too close.
“Spider’s dead,” I muttered, reaching for my laptop like it was armor.
But my pulse was still racing, my skin still buzzing where I’d touched her.
And all I could think was that the spider hadn’t been the real danger at all. I couldn’t stand the way she was looking at me, it was expectant and it wasn’t fair, we were in survival mode right now but what happened when it all ended? What happened when she got what she wanted and the cameras died off and it was just us and our Chinese food? Was I hoping for too much?