The Bookworm's Guide to Faking It by Hart Emma

Author:Hart, Emma [Hart, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Adult, Humour
ISBN: 9781913405090
Amazon: B08BJ7PFJT
Goodreads: 53886618
Published: 2020-12-01T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN – SEBASTIAN

rule thirteen: faking it is easier if you have a little bit of reality to draw upon.

“It’s that one. Definitely that one.” Holley fumbled with the cards as she attempted to take them out of her purse.

“That’s your credit card,” I said dryly and pulled the room key from my back pocket with a grin, brandishing it in her direction.

She gasped and pointed. “I don’t have one of those!”

“A room key?”

“No, an ass pocket!” She shoved me in the arm, and I stumbled through the door, laughing. “God sake.”

I was still laughing as she stomped into the room and kicked off her shoes with the elegance of a drunken turtle on a tightrope. One of them almost hit the coffee table where a glass full of water was sitting on a coaster, and she stilled, then slowly turned to look at me.

“Oopsie.”

“Indeed,” I muttered. “Are you getting changed first, or am I?”

“I can change in the bathroom.” She waved her hand in my direction and used the back of the sofa to stop herself from stumbling too much.

“Why don’t I get changed in the bathroom and you stick to the bedroom? Less things for you to bump into in there.”

“Excellent idea!” She hiccupped and clapped her hand over her mouth. “I swear, I didn’t even drink that much.”

The best part about that was that it wasn’t a drunk person insisting they hadn’t drunk that much when they were three glasses of wine and four cocktails in.

She’d had three drinks, and one of those had been with dinner.

Holley was a lightweight.

And I was having the best time laughing at her.

“Okay, I have my clothes, so hurry up, because I don’t want you to see me naked.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you naked,” I teased, joining her in the bedroom and pulling some sweats out of my suitcase.

She groaned. “Gray sweats? Do you have to?”

“What’s wrong with gray sweats?” I asked, knowing full well exactly what she was about to say.

“They show peen lines.”

That was not what I was expecting her to say.

“I’m sorry?”

She reached over to my side of the bed and grabbed my half-empty bottle of water from this morning. After she’d glugged it down, she sat back up and said, “Peen lines. Gray sweatpants show peen lines. Like when women wear big panties and leggings and you see the panty lines on her butt.” She rolled to the side and drew a diagonal line across her butt cheek to emphasize what she meant.

I blinked at her. “They’re not leggings.”

“No, and thank God for that. Women everywhere would explode en masse if they were.” She stared at me for a moment. “Are you going to get changed?”

“Are you going to jump me in my sleep?”

“Only to murder you, not grope you, dear.” She gave me a wan smile, but there was a twinkle in her eyes that showed she was hiding a laugh. “Go.”

I did as I was told and retreated into the bathroom, pausing only to grab a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt from my case.

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