Haze Andrea Wolfe (best mobile ebook reader txt) 📖

"I thought you didn't like that material."

"It's not my favorite, sure. But it's also even worse when it's making selfish assholes more money than it's making you."

"I see." I nodded mechanically.

"I won't be long, I promise. I'll text you on my way back." He leaned down and gave me a deep kiss, one that only served to distract me as his hand carried out its grand scheme and crept into my robe, cupped my exposed breast.

"Hey!" I broke away and smiled. "You're such a pig."

"For good luck," he said.

"As if you need that."

"Oh, and if you want a drink or some room service or something—" He tossed a wad of bills near me on the bed.

"Wow, I feel so classy. You fondle me, throw money on the bed, and then leave."

He grinned again, and then escaped toward the door, tackily saluting me as he left. "Goodbye, my dear."

I gave him one final look before he left, a slow-motion crawl from top to bottom, admiring just how adorable he was. Although Jack constantly insisted that I was perfect, I couldn't help but feel the same way about him in return.

Here we were in a place I had wanted to visit most of my life, sharing moments of luxury on a whim. I would have had to plan something like this for months in advance, putting money aside and losing sleep over the fact that I could be saving that money instead of blowing it on an extravagant trip.

Nope. Come with me with on a quick weekend trip, he had said. And here we were. It was a weekend trip and it was quick.

I waved and then the door opened and closed, the hallway taking my man from me. I looked at the cash on the bed, sliding it around with my fingers. Five hundred dollars, just like that. I grabbed the room service menu and then realized why he had given me so much.

"Jesus," I said aloud.

If Jack hadn't left the money, grabbing a snack in the room would have maxed out my credit card immediately. And if I had gotten a drink on top of that, my savings would be wiped out too. Debt collectors would have been waiting for me as we departed from the hotel.

After perusing the extensive menu for far too long, I eventually settled on the salmon with asparagus and a vodka tonic. I gave a huge tip—God, it felt wild to give away money like that, no joke—and enjoyed my gourmet "snack" by myself.

I slowly downed the drink, realizing that the premium price I had paid for it was barely worth it. Still, I was eating and drinking well whilst wearing a robe in my room. It was a little thing to celebrate, no doubt.

I walked out to the patio and stared up at the clear blue sky, sucking the warm, fresh air into my lungs. Even though pollution was bad around these parts, I sensed none of it in that moment. Or maybe I just didn't care.

Intense curiosity struck me at once. I was thinking about Stacy again, thinking about her relationship with Jack. I had seen all of her movies but one, and obviously, we barely knew each other. Jack was spoiling me, making me feel like an absolute princess, dominating me physically and mentally every second we were together in the most loving, considerate sort of way.

What made it so bad was that the only creative thing I knew about him was that he had released an album called Feedback and at least one person loved it. I felt selfish and self-absorbed all of the sudden. It wasn't a miserable feeling, no. Instead, it was one that was making me want to act, one that made me want to go exploring.

I left my drink on the patio table and ran back into the room, digging frantically in my suitcase. For some reason, I remembered having a pair of ear buds in the hidden inside pocket, ear buds that had come with my phone and that I hadn't ever used. Why I would have put them into my suitcase, I didn't know.

"Yes!" They were there, still wrapped in plastic. I ripped it off and tossed it into the trash, unwinding the earphones and grabbing my phone from the table.

Seconds later, I was back out on the patio looking over the pool area. It was Saturday after all, so there was a good crowd to be found. I realized I wasn't that interested in listening to their commotion. I wanted to dig deeper into Jack Teller.

I opened Spotify on my phone and typed in Jack's name. The list that came up sprawled for pages.

Holy shit, I thought.

After telling it to shuffle, I sat back and listened to whatever came up.

He had an incredible voice, something I wasn't expecting after he claimed he was better at writing for other people. When someone that talented and confident says they're bad at something, you usually take their word for it. I shouldn't have listened to him.

I won't lie—I didn't like every song that came up. Just because I was dating the guy that wrote them didn't mean that I would pretend to be the biggest fan ever. Jack would have appreciated that, I was certain of it. I also wasn't listening to full albums, so I didn't totally grasp where the songs fit in artistically.

This was just a crash-course in Jack Teller while he was dealing with business.

The more I listened, the more I realized just how talented Jack was. There seemed to be every style imaginable in that playlist, and on top of that, collaborations he had done with internationally popular artists showed up as well.

I started laughing loudly as I realized that a song that had played constantly on the radio during my shifts at the college bookstore had actually been written by the guy I was now dating. It had played so much that it almost drove me mad. I couldn't blame