Page 39 of Fall Apart

Lizzy looks down and her eyes go wide and her cheeks turn bright pink when he drops the sparkly purple werewolf dildo between us.

She looks at me in abject horror, but all I can do is keep laughing.

“Oh my god! This isn’t funny!” She punches me in my shoulder and Ani just sits there next to us, none the wiser at the hilarity of what he just did. “Why are you still laughing?”

Her eyes meet mine and that familiar icy blue is melting with embarrassment.

“Nothing. It’s just…” I look at the toy, filled with teeth marks, and then back at her. “You called him a damn wolf when you first met him, and here he is, running through the house with that in his mouth.”

She looks at me, her lips twitching and the muscles in her face straining to press her lips together.

“Oh my god, Lizzy Frank. Are you trying not to laugh?” I tease her with my best feminine voice. She rolls her eyes, but her willpower falters and a giggle escapes her parted lips. That giggle grows into outright laughter.

“OK, you’re right. That’s kind of hilarious.” She grabs the toy and sits up, shaking her head, her cheeks still flushed. After a second, a frown spreads across her face.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll buy you a new one.”

Another soft laughs escapes her lips. “Do friends buy each other sex toys?”

Now that is a great question. Lizzy Frank is anything but a normal friend.

She really issomething else.

CHAPTER 19

LIZZY

NEVER AGAIN

I walk downthe aisle at Finch, heading straight towards the back corner. I’ve always loved this shop. Something about the combination of an independent bookstore and a coffee shop is just right. Not to mention that they have a very well curated romance section. Seriously, whoever picks their books knows what’s up.

And with my parents always busy when we were in town, I was always free to roam and buy whatever book I wanted on Dad’s credit card. They’d either drop me off on Main Street after a day of skiing or let me take the condo’s shuttle.

So it’s only fitting that today, on my birthday, I stop in. I’m just glad it’s Friday and I can wash away this feeling spending the weekend in bed with a new book. Go figure - my dad, yet again, has forgotten about my birthday. It shouldn’t be hard to remember your firstborn’s birthday. I just don’t get it. Growing up I did everything my parents asked. My mom always remembers, but it’s like my dad just forgot I existed at some point or didn’t know how to talk to me. It would always be some excuse like getting caught up with work. It just never seemed like I was a priority for him as I got older.

So yeah, I’m treating myself today.

Do Ineedto find some faerie dragon smut today? Absolutely not.

Do I want it? Absolutelyyes.

I hope they have the first book in that series Clay mentioned during our morning yoga the other day. I’d read his, but I’m not going to crease the bindings in his special edition hardbacks, even if he saidthey’re meant for reading, Lizzy.

I browse the shelf, spotting the black jacketed book with gold lettering on the top row.Scales of Fury. I think it’s supposed to be apun on tipping the scales and dragons having scales? Either way, I’ve learned that Clay weirdly knows his books and I’m in the mood for some romantasy. His library and trophy room is the stuff of dreams. Who would have ever thought Mr. Dark and Broody was a book girlie under his all black wardrobe and constant scowls?

Grabbing the book, I head towards the counter to order my coffee and pay.

“Oh my gosh!” The girl behind the counter practically squeals when she grabs my book to ring me out. I think her name is Hannah? I can’t remember what Clay said. “Ilovethis series. The spice? Give me all of it.”

I huff a laugh. “Yeah, that’s what my friend who recommended it said. I think you know Clay, right?” He also said I should get a dragon dildo to go with it, but I’m not going to volunteer that tidbit.

She nods as she enters my coffee order and bags my book with the receipt. “Yep. Clay is here almost everyday, if not multiple times a day. He’s our favorite customer, hands down.” She laughs and then points back at my book. “We actually just had that author in for a signing. She was so sweet. She signed all the copies we had too.” I flip to the title page and sure enough, it’s signed.

“Wow. Very cool. Thanks!” I take my bag and find a comfy leather seat by the front window. I pull out my phone, opening my social media app. I haven’t logged into my bookstagram account in ages, but some character art would be cool to see and get me in the mood to start the book.

I scroll through my feed. Books, more books, smutty memes. All the stuff I used to love seeing. But I freeze on one post. My thumb hovers over my phone screen.

“What the fuck?” I mumble under my breath.

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