The Rules of Dating My Best Friend’s Sister Read Online Vi Keeland, Penelope Ward

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Forbidden Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 125135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
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I held up my phone. “I would, but mine died hours ago.”

Lala covered her mouth and giggled. “Oh my God, Holden. If I don’t laugh at the day we’ve had, I might have to cry.”

I smiled. “Today was a real shit show, wasn’t it?”

“I told a cop to go suck an egg and called him baldy!”

The two of us cracked up, and I nodded toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go to my place. I’ll grab a charger so we can find your phone, and you’ll grab us some cold beers from the fridge.”

“That sounds heavenly. Thank you.”

But as soon as we stepped out of Lala’s apartment and into the hall, I realized heavenly was still a speedbump away. A woman stood in front of my door—a woman I’d completely forgotten I was supposed to meet at the movies hours ago.

Anna looked at me, then Lala, and her lips twisted.

Crap. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

“You are such an asshole. I can’t believe I came all the way back over here because I was worried something happened to you since you stood me up and haven’t answered your phone all day.” She looked over at Lala. “Enjoy your fun night because that’s all you’re gonna get.” She stormed off.

“Anna, wait! I’m sorry! Something came up and my phone died and then—”

Her response was to flip me the bird over her shoulder and keep walking.

“I’m so sorry,” Lala said. “I didn’t realize you had plans.”

I shook my head. “It’s my fault. I totally forgot I was supposed to meet her at the movies.”

“Well, I think you’re being kind. Will you please let me buy you dinner? It’s the least I can do after the mess I’ve made out of your day and ruining your date.”

“Only if I can supply the beer and wine.”

She smiled. “It’s a deal.”

Lala and I ordered Chinese food, and we ate out of the cartons it came in as she unpacked and I broke down boxes. Despite all the hassle, today had left me feeling close to her the way we’d been years ago.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. If I get to ask you something.” She held out her container of chicken with broccoli. “Want the rest? I’m full.”

I squinted at her. “Did you spit in it?”

She looked shocked. “What? No!”

I chuckled and swiped the carton from her hand. “I’m kidding.”

Lala rolled her eyes but smiled as she used a box cutter to open the last box. “What did you want to ask me?”

“Why did you call Owen to see if the apartment was available, and not me?”

Lala froze. “Ummm... I’m not sure. I guess he was just first in my contacts.”

That made no sense, since my first and last name both came before Owen’s. But she was suddenly avoiding eye contact, and I didn’t want to make things weird between us again, so I dropped the subject.

“Your turn…” I said.

“Hmmm?” Lala’s nose wrinkled. “My turn for what?”

“You said I could ask you something, if you got to ask me something. Now it’s your turn.”

“Oh.” She took a bunch of towels out of her box and went to the bathroom. “Okay, there is something I’m curious about,” she said when she returned.

“Shoot.” I put a piece of chicken in my mouth.

“How many women do you sleep with in a month? I mean, that’s the second one I’ve seen at your apartment already.”

I started to choke on the chicken.

Lala’s eyes widened. She ran to get my bottle of water and held it up to my face. “Drink. Or do you need me to do the Heimlich maneuver?”

I coughed a few more times but managed to swallow the piece of chicken. My eyes watered. “Wrong pipe,” I said, taking the bottle.

Lala watched me drink. “Thank God! I haven’t done the Heimlich since eighth-grade gym class. I’m not even sure I remember how.”

It took another minute to stop the burn in my throat, but at least I could breathe.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have asked such a personal question.”

“No, it’s fine. I never want you to feel like you can’t ask me something.” Though I had no idea what the answer to her question was. How many women did I sleep with in a month? It wasn’t like I kept count, but whatever number I gave her was going to make her think I was a manwhore. “I guess the number varies. Sometimes it’s none and sometimes I go out a few times.”

“Do you…bring someone home every time you go out?”

Fuck. I was making this worse. “Not always, no.” Because there was that one time four months ago that I wasn’t feeling so good and left the bar early alone.

She shook her head and held her hands up. “I didn’t mean to intrude or offend you by asking.”

I shrugged. “It’s fine.”



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