Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“I’ll take it.” I have no idea if that’s nearly enough time to convince her that I’m not the guy she thinks I am. The one I’ve been so intent on proving that I was.
“You don’t have much choice in the matter,” she snaps as I rise from the bench and hold out my hand to assist her.
She stares at it briefly like it’s a snake before sliding out on her own. With the strap of her bag settled on her shoulder, she grabs her tray of half-eaten food. Sasha and Easton break apart as if only now remembering there are other people they were dining with.
Her roommate’s brows slide together. “You’re leaving already?” She glances at the tray. “You didn’t even finish your lunch.”
When the expression on Brooke’s face becomes strained, it hits me that I’m probably the reason for her lack of appetite. I mentally comb through the last ten minutes and realize she didn’t touch her food while I’d been sitting next to her. I hate that I make her feel that way. Although, she does the same to me. But for different reasons.
“Yeah. I need to get moving.”
Sasha’s curious gaze bounces between us. “Wait a minute, you two are leaving together?”
I shift my weight before nodding. “There are a few things we need to discuss.”
Concern flickers in Sasha’s eyes. I certainly can’t blame her for being leery of my intentions. I’ve gone out of my way to treat Brooke like shit, and everyone knows it. Including her best friend.
And mine.
A frown tugs at the corners of her lips. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Easton’s dubious expression mirrors his girlfriend’s. “Yeah, I mean…” His voice trails off awkwardly.
The fact that he’s actually concerned for Brooke’s wellbeing chafes my ass. And yet, when it comes down to it, I can’t blame them for being skeptical. I deserve the concerned expressions being aimed in my direction. I have, unfortunately, earned them.
I shift my weight and grumble, “It’ll be fine. Rest assured; I don’t plan to chop her up into tiny pieces.”
“Are you sure about that?” Sasha shoots back, voice growing harder.
I roll my eyes and shackle my fingers around Brooke’s wrist. Her pulse beats erratically against my thumb, like the wings of a hummingbird. Already, I know there’s nothing I can do or say that will settle it. A small gasp escapes as I drag her from the table and through the packed union before either of them can convince her to rethink her decision.
Instead of swearing under my breath, I smash my lips together before shoving through the glass doors. Brooke’s boots click a steady staccato against the tile floor as she hastens her steps to keep pace with me, all the while trying to break free of my grip.
She has no idea how much I want to lay my hands on her. It’s taking all of my self-control not to hoist her into my arms and take her someplace where we can be alone. I get the feeling I’d be able to quiet all the rioting voices in her head if my lips were to crash on top of hers.
Would she turn all soft and pliant in my arms?
Or continue to fight me tooth and nail?
“You can let go of me now,” she growls, words escaping in short bursts.
Yeah, that’s not happening. There is no damn way I’m relinquishing my hold. She’ll take off in the blink of an eye.
Once outside, a fresh breeze wafts over us, slapping at our cheeks. As I tow her along the path, people scurry out of our way. The glower on my face says it all.
I glance around, searching for a quiet place where we can talk that’s away from student traffic before heading for a grassy knoll as she continues to twist in my grip.
“Where are we going?”
As soon as our feet grind to a halt, a grunt leaves her lips as she yanks her arm from me. Now that we’ve come to a stop, I don’t have any other choice but to set her free. If she flees, there won’t be much I can do about it.
Surprisingly, she stays put. She scowls at me before rubbing small circles across the delicate flesh of her wrist. It’s tempting to take it in my hands and check for damage. The last thing I want to do is hurt or bruise her.
“Make it quick,” she snaps. “I need to go.” She crosses her arms against her chest and hunches her shoulders as if preparing for an attack.
Now that I have her to myself, my brain empties, and I have no idea what to say. An uncomfortable silence stretches between us as I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans before shifting my weight.
Her expression darkens as she impatiently taps her foot. “Well? I’m waiting. What was so important?” Her voice rises with each bitten-out word.