The Bookworm's Guide to Faking (The Bookworm's Guide #2) - Emma Hart Page 0,20
to sex in my books,” Holley continued, her cheeks flaring with what was, I thought, a cross between annoyance and mild embarrassment that she’d said that out loud. “Romance novels are, for the most part, a healthy representation of relationships where there is respect and consent and love, and if more young women were taught not to be ashamed of what they read, maybe the world would be a better place.”
I still didn’t respond.
I still didn’t think she wanted me to.
“Fucking vampires are perfectly fine to read on a train,” she muttered, trailing off. “But healthy love stories? God forbid those realistic stories be socially acceptable.”
My lips twitched. “Really? People are fine with you reading vampires, but romance is taboo?”
“Welcome to my world,” she said dryly. “Now you’ve successfully commanded my attention, what do you want?”
I held up my hands. “I just wanted to make sure you knew where you were going this weekend.”
“Sebastian, I know where the White Peak Mountain Resort is.”
“It’s snowing nearby and will probably be at the resort this weekend. Can your car get up there?”
“It’s a Jeep. I hope so, or I’m writing a strongly-worded letter to the CEO of whoever makes them.” She tucked some hair behind her ears. “Stop staring at me.”
“You’re not wearing your glasses.”
“There’s this nifty invention called contact lenses.”
“I know that, but I’ve never seen you wear them.”
She shifted, glancing away. “I don’t wear them often, but I took a walk up to Peak Place. My glasses get steamed up sometimes, so I prefer wearing contacts if I’m hiking.”
“Is Peak Place considered hiking?”
“Why don’t we go up there and we’ll see how long it takes people to hike to your body?”
“You’re murderous lately.”
“It’s the company I keep. It’s questionable.”
I grinned. “Saylor sure is.”
Holley dragged her brown eyes back to me and pursed her lips. “Stop trying to make me laugh. It’s not going to work.”
“I would bet money that I’ll have you laughing by the end of the weekend.”
“I don’t have the kind of money you bet with, baller.”
“Twenty bucks.”
“Seriously?”
I shrugged. “Hey, twenty bucks is breakfast. I’m not exactly a gambler.”
She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest, right beneath her breasts, making them lift up so they were clear to see even under her oversized hoodie. “I’ve bet more with Saylor over stupid crap. I’m not betting twenty bucks with you.”
“All right, fine. Don’t. But I’m still going to be right. You’ll be laughing by the end of Saturday night.”
“I see no situation where I’ll be laughing with you.”
“So bet on it.”
“I’m not sixteen, Sebastian.”
“You just said you bet with Saylor. Why not with me?”
“Because I only bet with my friends.”
Ouch.
“Tell me how you really feel,” I said dryly. “Fine. If I can’t make you laugh by the end of Saturday, I owe you breakfast. And you don’t even have to eat it with me. I’ll buy it for you, Saylor, and Kinsley.”
“Seems fair. And if you don’t make me laugh?”
I shrugged. “You get to live with the knowledge you were right, and you never have to speak to me again.”
Holley stared at me for a moment, her eyelashes fluttering with every movement. “What?”
“I’ll tell you what really happened at prom at ten to midnight,” I replied, holding her gaze. “And if you haven’t laughed by then, I’ll leave you to it.”
Something flashed in her eyes, and she swallowed hard. “All right.”
I held my hand out for her to shake. Unless I was completely deluded, I could swear that she hesitated before she put her hand in mine.
Her soft hand.
I gripped her a little tighter than necessary and leaned closer to her, keeping my gaze locked on hers. “But if you laugh by lunchtime, you owe me dinner.”
Her jaw dropped as I released her and walked up the counter. Johanna hadn’t served up my cheesecake yet, and I told her I was good with the coffee and the bear claw if it was ready.
She handed them over with an observant eye that flicked between me and Holley.
“Here.” I handed her enough money to cover both mine and Holley’s order, then pressed a finger to my lips. “Don’t tell her.”
“I’m sure she’ll never guess,” Johanna drawled, handing me my freshly baked bread.
I’d forgotten about that.
With a grin, I took the bag she’d put that and my bear claw in, grabbed my coffee, and left, not stopping to look at Holley for a second.