Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
His eyes stay fixed on mine. They stay wide with interest. His whole body stays tuned to mine.
He's interested.
He's game.
The knowledge helps, but not enough. I have to look at my food to continue. "Other times, you were trying to win me over with your body. And sometimes, you were questioning me, and trying to keep it serious, and I was trying to distract you with my body." I stop fighting my blush. I let my cheeks turn red. My chest too.
I finally look him in the eyes.
His gaze is even more intense. As if he's about to jump across the table and take me here.
I want to soak it in forever. And I want to run from the intensity of it.
This is why people don't face their desires. Because it feels so fucking vulnerable. I'm fully dressed, but I feel like I'm standing on this table, naked, inviting everyone to look at the most sensitive parts of my body.
"Let's try it," he says. "After this."
I shake my head.
He raises a brow. "No?"
"No… We need to try one of yours next." My cheeks stay red, but I push through. "It's only fair."
"What if this is one of mine?"
"Is it?" I ask.
"It's close."
"Tell me how it's different. No. Tell me something totally different," I say. "Something we haven't said or done."
"Something that makes me blush," he offers.
I nod. Yes. Exactly. I know he'll never look as awkward as I do—he is far too cool, far too experienced—but I need something. Some of the same vulnerability.
"The blush is sexy as fuck, Daph. I hope you know that."
In response, my cheeks redden.
He smiles. "It means a lot that you're willing to be vulnerable with me. It's flattering, yes, but it's more than that too. It's…" He trails off, unable to find the right word.
I'm not sure what it is either. Intimate, maybe. Caring. Loving. Close. Something like that.
Something I can't really examine.
How can I crack myself open if I leave in three weeks?
How can I turn down the opportunity?
He doesn't know why this ends in three weeks. He doesn't know I'm leaving. It feels wrong to withhold that information, but I can't tell him. Not until I tell Cassie and Damon.
My parents are the only people who know. And not because I told them. Because Mom is friends with one of the doctors in the program. Because the doctor congratulated her.
I can't complain about the access to opportunities, but it would be great if I worked in an industry where I had no family ties, where I could do whatever the hell I want without worrying news would get back to my parents.
"It is intimate." I take another bite. I try to focus on today. Right now. The fun of whatever I'm doing with Jackson. I just need to make sure we're on the same page. Then I can let go and enjoy. "This isn't what I imagined for my wedding, but I am glad we have three weeks together. I doubt it's the marriage you imagined either, but I… I want to enjoy it."
"Me too," he says.
"I never thought I'd marry someone," I say. "My parents are happy, and they're independent, in their way, too, but they're tied to each other forever. I didn't want that. I'm not sure I do now."
He nods with understanding.
"I always figured I'd have to choose between my autonomy and a family. That's how it goes for women. Maybe for everyone. So I… I choose this. A life that's all mine."
"There's nothing wrong with that."
"It's a strange thing to say to my husband. Harsh."
"It is," he says. "But that doesn't make it less true."
"Is that always how it goes for you?" I ask. "The truth is best, even if it hurts?"
"Yes. Do you disagree?"
"Does anyone ever admit they disagree?"
"Not usually," he says. "Most people want to believe a sugar-coated version of reality is the truth. But I don't blame them. The truth is painful."
"You sound like a philosophy major."
"I am a lawyer," he says.
And a lot of lawyers major in philosophy undergrad. But he didn't. He majored in economics. It suits him. As a man who understands money and systems. Who wants to know how the world works.
But when I think of economics majors, I think of accountants and spreadsheets and people who wouldn't know fun if it slapped him in the face.
He does worry about that.
And it is true in certain ways. He doesn't exactly let go. He's not letting go here. Not yet.
He's still in control of his desires, his needs, his secrets. And I love the sense of that—of letting him take charge—but I want the rest too. I want us on even ground.
I will ask again.
After I cover all this. "Is that your guiding value? Honesty?"
"If I have to pick one." His eyes meet mine. "You?"