Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“Hi.” Her eyes sweep over me, and she shifts from foot to foot.
“Hey.” Well, we’re off to a great start.
“Did you—”
“I just—”
She bites her lip, that plush bottom lip that I waited weeks to finally nibble on and that I’d really like to nibble on again, but after we talk.
“I thought I heard the elevator a minute ago,” she says.
“I got your message, but then my phone was run over by a cab and I couldn’t respond, so I came straight home. I was planning to knock on your door.”
“But you wanted to get dressed for the occasion first?” One corner of her mouth tips up in an uncertain half smile as she motions to my boxers. They have a bull’s-eye over the crotch.
“It’s raining and I forgot an umbrella; my clothes got soaked.” I want to jam my hands in my pockets, but I don’t have any. “Can we talk?”
“I was hoping we could.”
“Here? Or should we go to your place?” Since I didn’t read the note stuck to the door, I’m unsure if my brother is still home or not.
“My place works.” Stevie takes a few backward steps toward her apartment, and I follow. It isn’t until we’re inside her place that I realize I probably should’ve put on pants, but I’m here now, and I don’t want to leave again.
She reaches for a hoodie hanging from a hook at the front door. But I cover her hand with mine. “You don’t need to do that.”
“So we’re going to have our relationship talk half-dressed?”
“Seems like our best conversations take place like this, don’t you think?” Am I trying to lighten the mood? Definitely. Deflect? Also a yes.
She doesn’t make another move to cover up, though, so maybe she agrees.
“I’m sorry,” we say at the same time.
At what is likely my confused expression, she adds, “It wasn’t fair of me to stay silent for an entire week.”
“You needed time.” I give her words from last Sunday back to her. I generally deal with stuff as soon as it happens, but I get that girls are different, and it was a pretty messed-up situation. My not dealing with it wasn’t all that helpful either. “And I should’ve addressed the video or found a way to manage it, but I generally tend to ignore social media stuff, which probably wasn’t the smartest move in this case. At least that’s what everyone’s been telling me.” I really wish I had pockets to jam my thumbs in, but my lack of pants makes that impossible. “I’m not really used to everyone giving a shit about my personal life.”
“Me either. Usually that’s my brother’s thing, not mine.”
“But I should’ve done something instead of nothing. I just . . . I didn’t know what. And you wouldn’t talk to me. So going on record that I wanted you to be my girlfriend but that I wasn’t sure if you were still interested seemed pretty weak. Not that this is any better. I have flowers and chocolate for you, which, when I say it out loud, also sounds pretty damn weak too.” I run a hand through my hair. “Shit. Maybe I really do need some lessons in dating, like Nolan said. Maybe I should’ve put myself on the line more? I could’ve made a video or something declaring my feelings for you.” I wish I would’ve thought to do this sooner. It might’ve cleared shit up a lot faster.
Stevie bites her lip and peeks up at me from under her lashes. “I don’t need you to combat a video with a video, Bishop.”
“Okay. I won’t do that, then.” I’m kind of relieved about that. I hate interviews in general, and I have zero practice making declaration videos. “I wish we could do over the morning after, though, or even when I kissed you. It would’ve been better if that had been just ours.”
“Me too. I mean, I wish I’d reacted differently the morning after too.” Stevie twists her fingers together. “I really haven’t been fair to you, Bishop.”
“Uh, okay?” I fully expected that I would have to get down on my knees and grovel, or at least apologize several times in succession for not dealing with the video or pushing her to talk. Most of the time I’m not invested enough to do the groveling part. This time it’s different, though. “Can you expand on that?”
“Come sit with me.” She links our fingers and leads me toward the couch. I settle into the corner, and she takes the cushion beside mine, keeping our fingers twined still. “I’ve spent the past decade hiding who my brother is, not taking into account how his fame affects anyone but me, and by doing that, I forced myself into a box, and all the people I care about along with me, including you.”