Bookish by Olivia Hawthorne, Olivia Long Read Free Book Online Page A

morn.
    Isaac James. I struggled to wrap my head around it.
    I was grateful we hadn’t had sex; I think it would be much worse to think about it this morning. Now I just had a funny story to talk about, that time I made out with Isaac James. Remember that? And then he never called me again. Ha ha.
    I hoped he texted or called. I didn’t even remember if I’d given him my number, I had been way more drunk than I’d realized.
    I would have slept with him last night; I had to admit that now. I would have dropped onto my knees and stripped naked and begged him to use my body. It wasn’t just the build up of being with such a famously hot man; it was the crazy chemistry we had together. Our bodies just seemed to line up somehow.
    I’d never heard from him again, would I? Wait, don’t answer that, let me float in my happy delusion that he hadn’t just used me for a quickie feel good hook up.
    He did mention an apartment though. Did he live in Seattle? Everything I’d read had indicated his main apartment was in London with a get away condo in Aspen. He was an avid snowboarder.
    I could picture myself curled up by the fire sipping cocoa and reading a good book. We would be perfect together.
    Isaac James.
    I dragged my ass out of bed and hopped in the shower. I hoped the hot water would clear the fog from my head and let me see the night for what it had been. A one off fling, nothing more. I needed to drop the little whisper of hope that something would come of it.
    Still, he might call.
    I swear I almost yelled, “Stop it with the wishful thinking!” out loud in the shower, but knowing my life, Auntie Abby would think I was having a seizure and call 911 or something.
    I ran my soapy hand along my body, tracing the path of where his mouth had been. My lips, my neck, my collarbone...my breasts. The image of me curled back in the front seat of my shitty car, head thrown back and him sucking my puckered nipple as I cried out for him flooded my head.
    I blushed and almost looked around in shame, thinking everyone would know what we’d been up to last night, as if I still wore his kisses on my body like luscious tattoos.
    Speaking of tattoos, his had been even more beautiful close up. I vaguely remembered him shrugging his shirt off, just for me this time. I had touched him, felt his smooth skin and bulging muscles as I marvelled at his perfection.
    He hadn’t seemed to notice how imperfect I was. He moved against my body like a starving man searching for sustenance. He never once seemed to pull back his hand, comparing me against the fashion models and actresses he’d been with.
    It was simply divine, he was divine.
    Maybe he’ll call. Or text. Maybe.
    I dried off and picked out my clothing, very casual. Baggy hoodie and yoga tights, the kind of thing that screamed, “Help me, I’m hung over.”
    I brushed out my long hair and looked for my glasses. They weren’t on the usual spot on my night table. My hand brushed against my phone and it buzzed, letting me know I had a text.
    I’m not going to bullshit you, my heart skipped a beat. It leapt up into my throat, did a summersault and dropped back down into the pit of my stomach. Anatomically impossible, but it happened.
    “Holy fuck. What did you do last night?”
    It was Chloe. My heart sunk lower into the bottom most depths of my leaden tummy and I sighed. It wasn’t him.
    “Did you get home ok?” I replied, completely dodging her question.
    “WTF happened?” she texted right back. She wasn’t having any of it; she wanted answers that I couldn’t give. WTF had happened last night, really?
    “Let’s get…” I started to text, then looked at the time and had to put, “lunch.” I’d slept far too long for breakfast.
    “Broadway Diner?”
    “Good. See you in twenty.”
    I set the phone back on the table, but not before scrolling my texts aimlessly to check for his contact.
    Nothing.
    I finished getting ready and finally remembered Isaac taking my glasses off