Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Yeah, I need to stop this right now, or else I will end up with my hands down my leggings again.
The fact is, it’s a waste of time to think about making out with that dickhead. To imagine what it would be like, locked in his arms, kissing him desperately. I’d rather kiss that nobody friend of his if that’s what it came to, because Romero doesn’t actually care about me. I’m just a job for him. I mean, he’s certainly told me so enough times to remind me of how he sees this. Dad’s faithful little dog. Obeying orders, telling me what to do, and pushing me around.
My cheeks flush with embarrassment even now when I think about the scene he made. I mean, I don’t have to see any of them again. It’s not like we have anything in common, really. But it didn’t matter at the campsite.
Chloe is not the kind of girl I would ever have met before now, but she was nice. Instantly accepting. She has the sort of open, warm personality that makes you want to be friends with her. It’s been a long time since I’ve met anybody like that—hell, Bianca might be the only one.
From the first day we met, I knew we’d be best friends, and I’ve never regretted that decision. It felt like we had known each other our whole lives. And when I think about it, Bianca was raised in a different world than mine, too—the daughter of a cop versus the daughter of a notorious arms dealer with a billion-dollar empire. Talk about your unlikely duos.
There was a moment, before Austin came in and ruined it, when I felt happier. More relaxed, and more present in the moment than I had in ages. Between that and the motorcycle ride, I was flying high.
But of course, just like back at the club and so many other times, a man came in and thought he had the right to demand something of me. The memory makes me grab a pillow off the bed and punch it the way I should’ve punched Austin. It was one thing to be flirty, overly touchy, but to lean in for a kiss? I did nothing to encourage that kind of thing. You let a guy hug you; he thinks he has the right to stick his tongue down your throat.
Still, nothing he did was bad enough for Romero to drag me out of there like a fucking caveman claiming his possession. I’m curious if he’ll even bother apologizing to those guys for causing a scene in the middle of their party. I doubt it. Romero doesn’t apologize. That might mean taking responsibility for the asshole things he does.
I’m already so worked up that a sudden buzz from my phone makes me jump a mile. Instantly, my blood curdles, my stomach clenches, and my heart takes off at lightning speed. It takes a second to calm down once I remember I have Jeff’s number blocked. The arrival of a text doesn’t mean facing another nasty, threatening message.
He has yet to go so far as to reach out from a different number. Maybe he’s too stupid to figure that out.
Bianca: How’s it going? Are you doing okay?
Romero is an asshole. No, I can’t type that. It’s not like she doesn’t already know what I think of him, but I can’t give her anything to worry about. That would make Dad worry, making him call Romero, and a whole bunch of bullshit would come out of that. I am not in the mood.
Me: Same old. Trying to pass the time.
Bianca: Did you read those books I gave you? I know that’s not an exciting night, but I’m dying to talk about them with somebody.
The books are on the dresser, three thick hardcovers with bright, colorful, lush cover art. It’s a historical romance series she first became obsessed with back at school, and the latest book came out over the summer. I eye them, unimpressed, but what the hell? I’m not doing anything else.
Me: I’m going to crack the first one open now.
Bianca: Awesome!!! You’ll love them!
At least she’s happy. One of us should be. And who knows? I might be able to sink into the story rather than obsess over what’s happening in the real world.
After changing into a nightshirt, I grab the first in the series from the pile and settle in with pillows at my back. A cup of tea would be nice, but I don’t want to take the chance. It’s dumb, and I know it, but the idea of coming face-to-face with him is still too much to even consider. The longer I avoid him, the worse it will be—I know that’s true. When it comes to him, I guess I’m a coward. I don’t know how to handle the weirdness between us whenever we spend more than a split second together.