Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
We fall into an uncomfortable silence. I don’t even wait for the car to come to a full stop outside of Simon’s apartment before I open the door and jump out.
“Thanks,” I mumble, slamming the car door closed and running up the steps, rapping my knuckles on the door.
My heart lodges in my throat when he doesn’t answer.
What if he’s not here? I’d slept a couple of hours on that couch but maybe he was held up giving a statement back at the club.
My heart skitters when I hear movement.
When the locks click and the door opens, tears spring to my eyes and I launch myself at him, needing comfort.
He catches me, his arm tightening around me, squeezing. “Oh my god, Alyssa. I’ve been so worried about you,” he breathes. “I’ve been calling you.”
Pulling free, I wipe my hands down my face and pat my pocket. My phone must have fallen out in the mayhem.
Ushering me inside, he pours me a glass of water and brings it over to the couch where I sit down before, I fall.
“I wasn’t sure if you made it out of there.” His brow creases. He’s wearing loungewear, his hair rumpled.
“Did I wake you?”
His brows raise and he swipes a hand through his hair.
“No, I couldn’t sleep. I have to go down and make a statement tomorrow.” He jerks a shoulder.
“I don’t know anything, and even if I did, I know not to say anything.” He drops to his knees in front of me, searching my eyes.
“What do you mean?” I ask, meekly.
There’s silence, and it stirs acid in my stomach before he captures my clasped hands in his. “I don’t know what your connection is with that man, but for your own sake, please stay far away from him.”
It’s not like I’ve been given the choice. Where is this even coming from?
Pulling my hands from his, I smile weakly. “Is it okay if I crash here tonight?”
An awkwardness hangs between us when he gets to his feet.
“Sure. Let me get some blankets.”
I don’t like it, that both him and Hannah have warned me away from Luca. If they knew how insignificant I am to him, they wouldn’t have to.
I don’t wait for him to return before I huddle into a ball and silently cry myself back to sleep.
Light creeping in from a gap in Simon’s drapes stirs me.
I can hear a shower running. I need a shower—and food.
Pushing a blanket I don’t remember being placed on me off, I stretch my limbs and pad to the kitchen, grateful Simon has a kettle and an addiction to coffee.
I potter around, finding the mugs, retrieving the creamer from his fridge, and begin searching for the sugar.
“Top cupboard,” Simon speaks up from behind me, startling me.
Placing a hand to my chest, I chuckle. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” He holds up a hand. I didn’t hear the shower turn off over the gurgling of the coffee maker. “No cream in mine,” he tells me, rubbing a towel over his head.
Another is wrapped around his waist. I avert my eyes from his naked torso. This feels too personal, too cozy.
I don’t like it.
“I have to go down to make a statement, but you’re welcome to hang here, shower, watch some TV until I get back,” he offers.
I finish making the coffee, hand him a mug, and move past him to the living room.
“Tonight is the benefit. It’s an annual affair held at the school for all the beneficiaries.” I smile tightly when he takes a seat next to me.
“I need to get back and make sure I have everything ready.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He reaches over, placing a hand on mine.
“Yeah, I’m sorry I dumped myself on you last night.” I lift the mug, and his hand has no choice but to move.
Have I given him the wrong impression by showing up here?
“We’re friends, Alyssa. You’re always welcome to come here if you need to.” Him being practically naked is awkward. I’m not sure where to look, or if it’s intentional.
“Yeah, you’ve been a good friend to me. I’m grateful,” I say, smiling over the top of my mug but not keeping eye contact.
I’m not sure how to read his interest in me. I hope he’s content with friendship but fear he may eventually ask for more, and I don’t feel that way about him.
He’s sweet and a good man, but I don’t feel an attraction to him.
“I should get dressed,” he announces, finally moving down the small hallway to his room.
I rush back to the kitchen cleaning my mug and finger brush my hair, folding the blankets and getting myself together.
By the time he comes back, I’ve finished and ready to leave.
“I can drop you if you want?” he offers. An uncomfortable tension hangs stagnant in air between us.