Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Let me take your coat,” he smiles hesitantly.
He’s nervous, good, but there’s something about his eyes that are gloating, laughing at me, like he knew I simply couldn’t stay away tonight.
I smile back, an automatic reaction he brings out in me, and his eyes sparkle in response. I wish they didn’t do that, or maybe I just wish I didn’t notice how they do that.
Why is he so perfect?!
He’s not though. He’s a liar.
I waver some more. I’m a thousand shades pale, especially after this winter, yet here he is, and his complexion remains flawless. It fits him, though, since to me, he’s never been anything but - always appearing so model-like and out of place in this boring, ordinary town.
I bite my lip nervously as he removes my jacket. He’s careful not to touch anything but the fabric, and I let out a sigh of relief, that is, until I look up at him, regarding me with nothing but lust.
He mindlessly hands the jacket to the coat check lady, telling her to put it with his. I don’t miss the fact that my coat will now smell like him when we leave, and once again, I’m reminded how pathetic I am, just like I was in high school - longing and falling for a guy who could never be mine.
It wasn’t your fault, I remind myself. He lied. He’s a liar!
“You look… beautiful,” his smooth, manly voice is airy and taken aback, and I know my face is full of nothing but pain now, remembering all his lies.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” I confess. He eludes every ounce of honesty I have, every bit of love I was ever capable of giving, and the most hurt I’ve ever known. Even now, something in me just knows that I’m going to love him forever, no matter how hard I try not to, and that alone makes me want to leave and never see him ever again.
He shakes his head, his expression soft. “This is the best idea,” he plainly states, before walking back towards the table.
I stand in place, my mind telling me to turn back and head out the way I came, but my eyes are watching his back as he walks away, and my feet are soon to follow.
I’ve never been smart when it comes to him. If I were, I never would have asked him to kiss me in the first place.
He pulls out the chair, and I take my seat, closing my eyes as I try to reword all the phrases going through my head, most of which are harsh and mean. I have so much I want to say, and I try to take out the animated language, since we’re in public and I have to be civil. Meanwhile, he takes the seat across from mine, and our table is so small that his knee accidentally brushes against me. Thankfully, he pulls away immediately, but the shock that runs up and down my body has me placing a few of those F words back in.
He’s about to say something, but stops as the busboy brings us water, and then the waitress immediately follows with bread. I focus on the flickering candle in the center of the table, knowing his eyes are on me, watching and wondering, before letting out a deep breath and picking up the menu.
“I don’t think ziti pizza is on the menu here,” his voice is just above a whisper.
I look up and try to hide my small smirk, watching as he picks up his menu too. Suddenly, fear hits. There are a good number of people here. Crap, what if they see us?
Thankfully, I relax just as quickly as the fear set on, realizing that this is okay. He’s no longer my teacher. We can be in public now without it being frowned upon. Of course, I’m ignoring the other part of me - the one that’s currently squealing inside because, holy shit, we’re finally out in public together!
“Do you want to pick and share?” His low voice interrupts my inner monologue, and when I look his way, he actually seems nervous.
Good!
I lay my menu down, my mind a jumbled mess. “Why?” There’s an unmistakable attitude to my voice. “Don’t want the wife to know you had dinner company tonight?” I raise an eyebrow. “This isn’t one of our old lunches. Where we’d laugh and joke, and then you bend me over the island and fuck me.”
He’s acting too calm and comfortable, like he didn’t shatter me to pieces, like he doesn’t have a wife and kid at home, or maybe by now, kids. Plural!
Ugh!
His eyes widen over my brutal words, and he places the menu back on the table. “I promised I would be good,” he sighs, defeated.
“To me or to your wife?” I counter. “Plus, you have to be good, and I don’t have to be here,” my jarring words spill out. “In fact, I shouldn’t be here. I don’t even know why I am. Nothing’s changed.”