Read Online Dollhouse by and Khloé Kardashian Kim Kourtney - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: and Khloé Kardashian Kim Kourtney
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there.” He turned to Kamille. “I really apologize, but I’ve gotta run. I’m doing this charity thing in Wisconsin tomorrow morning. It’s for kids with leukemia. I’ve gotta be at LAX in, like, twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes! Ohmigod, go!”
“Not before I get your phone number. That is, if it’s okay for me to take you out to lunch sometime.”
Lunch, dinner, a trip to Cabo . . . anything. “Sure, that would be great,” Kamille said, forcing herself to sound casual versus, say, easy and/or desperate. “It’s terrific that you’re doing this thing for the kids. And I’m glad we met. It was fun hanging out.”
Chase nodded and smiled. “We’ll definitely do this again.”
As Kamille typed her phone number into his phone, she wondered how she had gotten so lucky. Chase was gorgeous, kind, and thoughtful. And a famous athlete. And he went to church. And he had a close-knit family. And he did charity work for sick children.
There was no question about it. She was in love.
Chapter Twelve
Kass
“Y eah, being a one-L is definitely a challenge,” Mike told Kass. “It’s really true what they say. The first year of law school’s the toughest. My contracts professor is such a hard-ass, he makes people cry. In class. And not just the girls either.”
“That’s insane,” Kass said, taking a bite of her Yucatán veggie burger. It was Friday at lunchtime, and the outdoor café overlooking South Figueroa Street was packed with USC students. “So what kind of law are you interested in? Litigation? Tax law? That’s where all the money is, right?”
“Actually, I want to specialize in international human rights law. There’s a lot of bad stuff happening in the world, and I want to help. Money’s not a priority for me. I mean, sure, you gotta be able to pay the bills. But I don’t need to be a gazillionaire. It’s more important for me to give back, make a contribution.”
“Really?”
Kass regarded Mike with interest. She had met him through Lovematch.com, the online dating site her crazy sister had convinced her to try, and this was their first date.
So far, so good. Mike was cute (except for the weird mole on his chin, but who was she to be picky?) and supersmart. And he wanted to do human rights work.
In any case, he was certainly better than the other four guys she’d met up with through Lovematch. The first one couldn’t stop talking about his ex-girlfriend. The second one wanted to know if Kass could help him score some Vicodin. The third one was married and only interested in NSA (i.e., no-strings-attached). The fourth one explained that he lived with his mother and that the two of them were kind of a package deal (which was way too Psycho/ Norman Bates for Kass’s taste).
Mike glanced at his watch and signaled the waitress for a check. “I have to run. I’ve got torts at one-thirty, and the professor is not cool about lateness. So can we do this again? I had a great time.”
“Definitely,” Kass said, meaning it.
Mike leaned forward and squeezed her hand. “Listen. I like you, and I feel like we have a connection. So before we go out again, there’s something I want to tell you about me. Something important.”
“Um, sure.” Kass wondered what the big secret was. Maybe he was a celebuspawn? Or a closet Republican? As long as he wasn’t married, or addicted to pain meds, or . . .
“There’s a side of my personality that not many people know about,” Mike went on. “I like to wear women’s underwear. In fact, I’m wearing some right now. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not gay. I’m not even bi. My therapist says it’s a very normal expression of my inner femininity. I hope you’re cool with that.”
It took Kass all of her self-control not to start swearing . . . or cracking up . . . or both. “I’m really happy for you that you’re into your, uh, inner femininity,” she managed to say after a moment. “It’s, uh, kind of a lot for me to digest
“Twenty minutes! Ohmigod, go!”
“Not before I get your phone number. That is, if it’s okay for me to take you out to lunch sometime.”
Lunch, dinner, a trip to Cabo . . . anything. “Sure, that would be great,” Kamille said, forcing herself to sound casual versus, say, easy and/or desperate. “It’s terrific that you’re doing this thing for the kids. And I’m glad we met. It was fun hanging out.”
Chase nodded and smiled. “We’ll definitely do this again.”
As Kamille typed her phone number into his phone, she wondered how she had gotten so lucky. Chase was gorgeous, kind, and thoughtful. And a famous athlete. And he went to church. And he had a close-knit family. And he did charity work for sick children.
There was no question about it. She was in love.
Chapter Twelve
Kass
“Y eah, being a one-L is definitely a challenge,” Mike told Kass. “It’s really true what they say. The first year of law school’s the toughest. My contracts professor is such a hard-ass, he makes people cry. In class. And not just the girls either.”
“That’s insane,” Kass said, taking a bite of her Yucatán veggie burger. It was Friday at lunchtime, and the outdoor café overlooking South Figueroa Street was packed with USC students. “So what kind of law are you interested in? Litigation? Tax law? That’s where all the money is, right?”
“Actually, I want to specialize in international human rights law. There’s a lot of bad stuff happening in the world, and I want to help. Money’s not a priority for me. I mean, sure, you gotta be able to pay the bills. But I don’t need to be a gazillionaire. It’s more important for me to give back, make a contribution.”
“Really?”
Kass regarded Mike with interest. She had met him through Lovematch.com, the online dating site her crazy sister had convinced her to try, and this was their first date.
So far, so good. Mike was cute (except for the weird mole on his chin, but who was she to be picky?) and supersmart. And he wanted to do human rights work.
In any case, he was certainly better than the other four guys she’d met up with through Lovematch. The first one couldn’t stop talking about his ex-girlfriend. The second one wanted to know if Kass could help him score some Vicodin. The third one was married and only interested in NSA (i.e., no-strings-attached). The fourth one explained that he lived with his mother and that the two of them were kind of a package deal (which was way too Psycho/ Norman Bates for Kass’s taste).
Mike glanced at his watch and signaled the waitress for a check. “I have to run. I’ve got torts at one-thirty, and the professor is not cool about lateness. So can we do this again? I had a great time.”
“Definitely,” Kass said, meaning it.
Mike leaned forward and squeezed her hand. “Listen. I like you, and I feel like we have a connection. So before we go out again, there’s something I want to tell you about me. Something important.”
“Um, sure.” Kass wondered what the big secret was. Maybe he was a celebuspawn? Or a closet Republican? As long as he wasn’t married, or addicted to pain meds, or . . .
“There’s a side of my personality that not many people know about,” Mike went on. “I like to wear women’s underwear. In fact, I’m wearing some right now. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not gay. I’m not even bi. My therapist says it’s a very normal expression of my inner femininity. I hope you’re cool with that.”
It took Kass all of her self-control not to start swearing . . . or cracking up . . . or both. “I’m really happy for you that you’re into your, uh, inner femininity,” she managed to say after a moment. “It’s, uh, kind of a lot for me to digest
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