Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Kylie giggles at my side. I can tell the drinks are hitting her now. She’s all bubbly. I wish I felt as good as she does right now.
“Yeah, he was making a statement all right,” Kylie snickers, nudging me in the ribs.
I force a smile.
The next interviewer asks a similar question, and Drake’s nostrils flare beneath his cap. He tilts his head up, peering around the crowd before speaking up.
“Look, if none of you are going to ask me about the fight itself, then this interview is pointless.” He pushes out of his chair and holds the belt up again. When they all cheer for him, (and I don’t know why they do since he’s being a complete jackass), he walks away from the tables, and disappears off screen.
I sigh, dropping my gaze and focusing on the granite countertop. “Well, there’s that.”
“Hey.” Kylie turns in her stool. “Babe, come on. Cheer up. It’s done. It’s over with. I don’t think anyone even noticed he was focused solely on Shane but us… and Oscar.”
“What’s that about Oscar?” A deep, familiar voice rises behind Kylie and she gasps loudly as she looks back.
Oscar meets behind her stool with a smooth smile on his sculpted lips. Kylie practically jumps out of her seat when she sees him, and I don’t blame her.
Oscar looks great.
His red hair has been trimmed much shorter, cropped, messy, and curly at the crown. He’s kept himself in great shape, still slender and toned in all the right places like how I remember him. He’s grown out a little fuzz on his chin that I didn’t notice at the fight, and it seems the little freckles he used to have aren’t even there anymore.
Look at Oscar. All grown up now.
As they hug, I sip on my drink. It’s when they pull away that I look—but wait. They aren’t done. Kylie obviously hasn’t told me the whole truth. Because now they are kissing like they used to when we were eighteen.
“Oh—oomph!” Kylie giggles as she pulls away from her lover. I quirk a brow, fighting a laugh. “Sorry, Jen.”
“Yeah.” Oscar swipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “Sorry about that, Jenny.”
Kylie sits on her stool again. “Come on, sit,” she begs of Oscar, but he simply shakes his head.
“Can’t. Gotta get back. Wanted to come see you really quick.”
She smiles.
I kinda wanna gag.
“And also to tell Jenny that Drake is waiting for her.” His eyes move over to mine and I frown instantly.
“See me? For what?”
“What kind of question is that?” He folds his arms.
“I’m not going to see him.” I turn in my stool and look up at the flat screen, so relieved to see they are talking about golf now.
“Oh, Jen, come on. He wants to see you. He’s waiting!” Kylie pleads.
“Nah—it’s cool,” Oscar murmurs. “It’s all good. I told him you would react this way. But he figured if you saw this, you’d change your mind.” Oscar’s arm extends beside me and his hand is palm-down on the countertop, balled in a fist.
When he opens it and releases the object, my heart nearly stops beating.
The cross.
Mitchell’s vending machine cross.
My eyes dart up to his and he simply presses his lips with a light shrug.
“How did he get that?” I demand.
“I have no idea what it even means. I guess you’ll have to see him to figure out your question.”
I stare down at the cross, unblinking, heart slamming. I can’t believe this. I left this in Fox River, in my bedroom, tucked in one of my empty shoeboxes in the closet. How did he find it? How would he have known where it was? And how the hell could he have gotten it if I wasn’t even home? I was in college.
“I’m guessing that blank stare is you changing your mind?” Oscar steps back.
I look up at him. “What does he want?”
“Just to talk.” He holds his hands out. “Won’t hurt to share a few words.” He steps back. “Come now or forever hold your peace,” he teases.
But this is not a joke.
This is serious… and weird.
I have no idea how he could have gotten this cross without getting caught.
I grab the cross and then my glass, downing the rest of my whiskey. Once the fire has settled in my veins, I step off the stool, adjust my dress, and then look into Oscar’s eyes.
I hold up a hand, spreading my fingers. “Five minutes and no longer.”
Oscar grins as if he’s the one getting the talk, and I instantly regret what I’m about to do. “That’s all he needs. Follow me, ladies.”
* * *
It takes some time to get to wherever Drake is. I’m surprised we are making our way back towards the arena.
It is now crowded backstage. Getting through is a hassle until we come across the ropes.