Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 91840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Someone’s been busy tonight.
Fury rains down on me.
I just can’t believe him! The fucking asshole!
He was out partying with other women while I was feeling crappy all day, sitting and worrying about him when he hadn’t come home, thinking something had happened to him.
Going out and getting drunk isn’t the smartest thing to do when you’ve got a broken foot, but obviously, he doesn’t care.
So, why the hell should I?
Because you have feelings for him.
Ugh! I hate that I like him. The big fucking jerk.
It’s clear that he doesn’t give two shits about me. He’s up there with another woman, doing God knows what with her right now.
The thought of him with her makes me feel physically sick.
At least I know he won’t be having sex with her because of his foot. That’s the reason he wouldn’t sleep with me.
Or maybe he was just saying that. Maybe he just doesn’t want you, my insecurities scream at me.
This morning, he acted like last night never happened, and then he went out partying and brought people back to his apartment. And he’s currently cozied up on the sofa with that blonde.
So, yeah, clearly, it’s me he doesn’t want.
Well, fine.
But, when I do go back up there, if he’s in his bedroom with that woman, then I’m going.
I’ll pack my stuff and leave tonight. Because there is no way that I’m sleeping in that apartment while he fucks someone else in his bedroom.
He might not care about me, but I do have feelings for him, and I’m not putting myself through that.
I shove my cell in my pocket and look over at Gucci. She’s running around, jumping in and out of the bushes, looking happy.
Well, at least one of us is happy.
I let out a long, sad sigh and stare up at the sky, trying not to think about what’s going on up in Gabe’s apartment right at this moment. Or what he might be doing with the blonde. If he’s touching her like he touched me last night.
Instead, I force myself to think about what I’m going to do tomorrow when I’m once again homeless and jobless.
Gabe
I’m an asshole.
A complete and utter fucking asshole.
I’ve hurt Speedy. The one person who didn’t deserve to be hurt by me. The one person I didn’t want to hurt, but I went and did it anyway. And I did it fucking spectacularly.
I saw the hurt in her eyes, and I put it there. It almost brought me to my knees.
I could barely look at her this morning, knowing I was going to hurt her.
And I know she thinks I’ve been fooling around with that blonde tonight, but I haven’t.
I couldn’t even if I wanted to. And I don’t.
I just want Speedy.
She’s been on my mind all day. I can’t think of anything but her. How she tasted. How she looked in my bed. How she felt against me.
Knowing all these things makes me want her so much more.
I had to get out of the apartment today. I couldn’t be around her. So, I lied and said I had meetings.
I didn’t.
I called up some drinking buddies, and I was out all day.
But I knew I had to come home at some point, but being here, alone with her, just wasn’t an option. I knew what would happen the second I saw her.
I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.
So, I invited everyone back here. And I acted like the fucking bastard that I am.
But, now, she’s gone, and I don’t know where she is.
I’m worried. It’s late. I don’t want her and Gucci out alone.
I tried calling her, and it went to voice mail. I texted her, asking her to come back home, but she’s ignored it.
Guess this is a taste of my own medicine for ignoring her text earlier and making her worry.
I cleared the apartment of everyone right after she left.
I want to go look for her, but I’m stuck because of my goddamn foot. I can’t fucking drive.
And her car keys are still here on the coffee table, and so are mine, so she’s out there, walking around.
I’m going to call the driver back and have him drive me around until I find her.
I’ve just pressed call on his number when I hear the elevator ping its arrival.
I hang up the phone and move toward the elevator.
She comes in with Gucci in her arms. Her eyes look red, like she’s been crying.
You did that, asshole.
“Where have you been?” My words come out sharper than intended.
She puts Gucci down and walks past me without a word.
“Ava, I asked, where the fuck have you been?”
She whirls around, her eyes narrowed. “What business is it of yours?”
“You live in my place. That makes it my business.”
She laughs. “Fuck off, Gabriel. I was going to go in the morning, but screw this shit. I’m going now.”