Page 47 of In Case You Didn't Know
That’s if I don’t spend the rest of the night thinking up a fake job for the fake man. Because my first thought – firefighter – is way too problematic. Not only is it overly sexy, but a firefighter in New York is probably easy to track down for Asher. He’ll know I’m lying in about thirty seconds.
And I can’t stand to think about how smug he’s going to be when he’s proved right.
Once upon a time, I loved that he knew everything. I was fourteen the first time I asked him for help with my math homework. I was visiting Liberty for Autumn’s birthday, and I had an assignment I’d been putting off all week. I was in an advance math class even though I absolutely shouldn’t have been, but to do anything else would have upset my family.
So I studied my ass off, but pre-calc was kicking that same ass. Until Asher found me crying in front of my textbook, and slowly and patiently explained sine, cosine, and tangents to me.
I blink at that memory. I haven’t thought about it for years. I was fourteen and he was twenty-four. The kind of age when most guys would have been utterly selfish. He was in grad school by day and building his business by night. And yet when he’d found me crying because I was so sure I was going to fail, he’d grabbed a chair and sat down next to me.
“Come on,” he’d said, nudging my shoulder with his. “It’s just cosine. Nobody ever died from a triangle.Probably.”
It took two hours before everything he tried to explain finally sunk into my brain. And then Hudson, West, and Parker dragged him out to The Salty Dog because they were old enough to drink and I was still in braces with hair that was uncontrollable and a major crush on my best friend’s older brother.
I let out a sigh. I don’t want to think about all the ways he was nice to me growing up. I want to think about how aggravating he is to me now. Instead of remembering the way his lips felt on mine. Or how thick and hard he was against my thigh as he made every muscle in my body feel like they were melting when he made me come.
My phone buzzes and I pick it up, hoping for some distraction.
You have a message.
It takes me a second to realize it’s the dating app Charlie installed. Somebody actually looked at my profile? With that stupid photograph? I don’t know whether to feel sorry for them or be afraid.
Still, I open it up and see what looks like a normal, thirty-something guy staring back at me. In photo form, thankfully. He doesn’t look like a serial killer, but then neither did Ted Bundy.
He looks more like a surfer if I’m being honest. In his photo he’s wearing a white, linen shirt, opened one button too far to reveal a smooth, tan chest. His hair is long, curling around his neck, and he has about a dozen necklaces on. He’s grinning with the whitest teeth I think I’ve ever seen.
He’s so completely not my type it’s not even funny. I open the message anyway, because curiosity is my middle name.
Hey friend! How wild is it that we’ve matched out here in Liberty? It feels like the island has aligned us or something. I’m staying at the Grand Liberty Hotel holding space for a breathwork immersion at the hotel. Only here for a few days, but would love to vibe over a matcha or walk along the beach barefoot and just… be. No pressure. Just presence.
Reed Marks. That’s his name. I’m no virgin at dating apps. If a guy is 'just visiting it means one thing. He wants a no-strings night with you.
And I’m so not a one night no-strings girl. I start to write a gentle brush off to him – because I’m way too polite to ignore his message – when my phone starts to ring.
When I see Autumn’s name flash up, I can’t help but smile.
“What are you doing calling me at this time?” I ask her, checking my watch. “Isn’t it the middle of the night in London?”
“It is.” She sighs. “I can’t sleep and Parker is snoring so I thought I’d call and see if you’ve settled in okay.”
“I’ve settled in great,” I tell her warmly, so happy to hear from her. Talking to Autumn always makes me feel better. “And thank you for all the goodies you left me. I feel like I’m staying in a luxury hotel.”
“You deserve it. Plus I have an ulterior motive,” she says, her voice low. I can hear the low hum of a television in the background. The poor girl really is having trouble sleeping.
“Of course,” I tell her. “What do you need? Want me to sing you to sleep?”
She starts to laugh. “I need your words. Send what you’ve written to me. I can read them while Parker drives me crazy sounding like a steam train.”
“I can’t send you them yet. They’re a mess.” I frown. Though I guess I could clean them up. I need to read through it all anyway, to plan the third act of the book. “How about later this week?” I suggest. “I’ll send you the first half.”
I think about the scene I wrote yesterday with the heroine pinned between a wall and the man who shouldn’t be touching her. And how maybe,just maybe, I wrote it with a certain dark-eyed security ass in the back of my mind.
“It’s a deal.” She sounds giddy. I love how supportive she is of my writing. I’m not sure I’d still be doing it without her. Back when we were teenagers and I was writing Kylo and Rey fanfiction, she was the only one I told about it. And then, when I got a following on Wattpad, and started writing original stories, she was the first to encourage me to publish them.
It's been four years since I uploaded my first book for sale. And she’s been with me, as my first reader, my biggest supporter, and now she’s essentially my patron, giving me somewhere to stay.
“So how’s your trip going?” I ask her.
“It’s horribly luxurious,” she says. “Parker’s a bigger draw here than I realized.”
