Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
It was a bedroom, kitchen, living room and music studio all in one, and with the vinyl playing on the Crosley in the corner, and the myriad of posters hanging on the wall, it had an almost grunge-like romantic appeal, like something straight out of a 90’s movie.
“Wow,” I breathed, taking it all in.
“I hope it’s not too much,” Shawn said, scrubbing a hand back through his shaggy hair. “I like candles.”
“It’s beautiful,” I assured him, even with my voice thick in my throat. I took his lead then, taking a seat on the pillows opposite the side of the table he’d sat on.
“Wine?” he asked, tilting the bottle toward my glass before I’d even answered. “It’s Moscato. I haven’t really developed a taste for anything deeper.”
I chuckled. “Well, since you’re nineteen, I guess I’ll let it slide.”
“Twenty,” he corrected after filling our glasses, then he held his up. “To you, Giana,” he said, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “And to the music that fills our souls.”
I smiled, clinking my glass against his before I took a sip. The wine was almost too sweet, tasting more like grape juice than like anything that had alcohol in it. But I liked the bubbles dancing on my tongue as I looked around.
“I’ve missed you at my shows,” Shawn said, plating a pesto pasta onto his dish before passing the container to me.
“I’m surprised you ever realized I was there in the first place.”
“Why would that surprise you?” he asked genuinely. “Look at you.”
I arched a brow, looking down at my sloppy, large sweatshirt and joggers. “Yeah. A total babe.”
Shawn laughed. “You are. And you’re unique. You stand out in a way I’ve never seen any other girl do.”
Something about that wrinkled my nose — mostly because I absolutely loathed the you’re not like other girls line. It felt divisive and like more of an insult to womanhood than a compliment to me.
“You never seemed to notice before that night I saw you downtown,” I commented.
“I noticed every time.”
His words came swiftly, and he paused where he was plating a chicken cutlet.
“I saw you at the café all last year, watched as you sang along to every song — even my originals.”
I flushed.
“I watched you drink the same coffee order, some sort of large espresso foamy thing,” he added with a laugh. “Every evening when I was there. And I always wondered if you’d ever stick around, or come up and say hi, but you never did.”
I balked, unable to believe that he ever paid attention to me, but even more so that he was waiting for me to make a move. “You could have been the one to come break that barrier, you know,” I told him.
“Maybe,” he agreed. “But every time my set ended, you would bolt. And when I had intermission, you would pick up your book.” He leveled his gaze with mine. “Do you know how intimidating it is to approach a girl when she’s reading a book? That’s like trying to pet a cat’s belly. It might work out great, but more than likely you’ll get claws to the face for assuming they wanted anything to do with you.”
The laugh that shot out of me surprised me, and the snort that followed brought a wide grin to Shawn’s face.
“Fair enough,” I said through my laughter, and then I sipped the sweet wine before taking my first bite of pasta.
“Can I ask you something?” Shawn inquired.
I nodded, and he paused a long moment with his fork hovering over his plate before he finally spoke again.
“Why are you dating Clay Johnson?”
I froze, a painful chill washing over me for more reasons than I could keep up with. The sound of Clay’s name, the memory of what had happened between us, the reminder that I wasn’t dating him — not really — all hit me at once.
I swallowed. “Why does it matter?”
“Because I can’t figure it out,” Shawn answered honestly. “Not for the life of me. You know, I thought he was cool, but then I’ve watched the way he’s treated you. That night in the club when he was basically molesting you for everyone to see? And then at The Pit, when he took that body shot off another girl?”
Fake. All of it was fake.
“She didn’t mean anything to him,” I whispered.
“Well, do you?”
I frowned, looking up to find Shawn watching me like I was poor, pathetic girl who didn’t realize I was being abused.
But he didn’t know what happened when no one was looking.
“You deserve to be happy, Giana,” Shawn said. “And you deserve a man who treats you like the princess you are.”
I couldn’t hide my face twisting at that.
Princess? Ew.
I somehow smiled through it, though. “Well, thank you,” I said. “And thank you for this. It’s… honestly? The most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.”