Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
"Well, I guess it shows you that the universe has some interesting ways of nudging people toward their best life."
"I guess it does. So what nudged you in this direction?" I ask.
Dawn blinks, and a fleeting faraway look passes across her face. Then she turns to me and beams. "A craving for adventure and a whole lot of luck," she says.
"A craving for adventure. I like that. Not running from something?" I ask as her clouded expression lingers in my mind.
"Well, maybe the odd jealous boyfriend," she quips. "But what’s a girl to do?"
"I can imagine," I say, not believing a word. I mean, Dawn probably has left a trail of broken hearts behind her. She’s the kind of girl who could splice open the heart of an unsuspecting man for the very fact that she’s crazy confident and doesn’t seem to want to form close attachments. She’s skipped between my friends like a greedy kid sampling at Costco. I don’t have anything against that. We are all young, free and single, and hooking up is the best part of that. It’s just that there is something unusual about Dawn. Something I can’t put my finger on. Something that makes me feel as though she’s hiding something.
I have a trick for that.
"Dawn," I say, leaning forward. "You have something behind your ear."
Before she can reach up to investigate, I pull a coin from her ear and present it to her. For a second, she seems stunned, then she grabs the coin and claps her hands. "How did you do that?" she gasps.
"Haven’t you heard of magic?" I’m leaning in close to her, and the scent of her floral perfume tickles my senses.
"You do magic? Seriously?"
"I do magic…"
She takes my hand, turning it over, peering at it as though she’s looking for some kind of special pocket. "Magic hands." Looking up, our eyes meet and it’s like a zap of static and a swell of warmth.
"Magic fingers too." I raise a brow and she grins, flashing her teeth and spreading those pretty pink lips into a wide, perfect smile.
"Got any other magic body parts?" she asks.
With my other hand, I dip my fingers into the top of her shirt and pull out a tiny flower and present it to her with a flourish. She gasps and I lean closer, whispering directly into the sweet shell of her ear. "I think you’ll find I’m magic everywhere."
I know I don’t imagine the shudder that passes through her body. I blow softly against her ear, and she shudders again.
"You’re a tricky one," she breathes, turning her face to mine. This close I can see little flecks of gold in her iris and a smattering of freckles across her nose.
"You have no idea," I say. The urge to kiss her is strong. The urge to get my hands on her peachy skin and my mouth between her legs is even stronger.
"Bryce," my brother’s voice yells from near the grill. "It’s getting busy out here again."
Her eyes flick away and then back, and she smiles, licking the center of her bottom lip, a tell–tale sign that she wants to be kissed. "I guess that’s all the magic I’m going to get tonight."
"Oh, I don’t know. The night is young, and so are we."
When I draw away, it’s like she’s steel and I’m a magnet. Every part of me craves to be closer. We both sigh and then laugh. I think she feels as startled as I do at the buzz of almost-contact between us.
"Time to rock and roll," I say, reaching for her hand.
As we make our way back to the packed bar and all the work that needs to be done before the night is over, I make a vow that I’ll taste Dawn’s sweet mouth, and more…a whole lot more…if she’ll let me.
16
DAWN
The conversation with Bryce has left me unsettled. He can do magic tricks that send shivers up my spine, but that shouldn’t mean he’s able to read minds. As I wipe over a table I’ve just cleared of empty glasses and bottles, a sense that he’s picked up the corner of me and peered underneath rests uneasily.
The evening seems to stretch out before me, longer and harder than any other night. I work with a fierce commitment that isn’t really like me. My friend Kyla is the kind of person who cleans away her anxieties. The more stressed she is, the more her drawers and cupboards look like something from that film, Sleeping with the Enemy.
I have a tendency to be impulsive, to try to lose myself in another experience so that I can leave whatever’s worrying me behind. But I’m already in a place of escape and I can’t run again. Not now. Not so soon.
In my pocket, my phone vibrates. I pull it out, finding that it’s my dad. I stare at it until it stops, then slide it back to where it came from. Tomorrow, I’ll message him with a lie and tell him I was sleeping when he called. I’ll give him a long update about what I’ve been doing that will hopefully pacify him for some time.