Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 39602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
It was bad enough that I barely get to see him since he left the city for his compound in the country, but now we’ll be even farther apart. I felt tears gather at the corners of my eyes and fought hard not to let them fall.
But there was no hope for the tear in my heart that refused to be mended. A wound that I’m afraid will never heal as long as I have to live in this world without him.
Of course he doesn’t know that I feel this way about him. He’s too thick to take a hint. When I think of all the times I put myself in his way, or outright flirted while he ignored my every effort, I could die of embarrassment.
I should’ve moved on by now, got the hint myself that he wasn’t even remotely interested in me. I’m sure he probably is too old for me after all. He just sees me as the annoying little sister that he didn’t want around.
But there’s just something about him that I find so sexily perfect. So much so that boys my age no longer interest me and had long lost their appeal. I look at them and compare them to him and it’s like the difference between a kindergartener and a CEO.
But no matter how much I want, or how many dreams I may have, I must accept that he’s never going to notice me, never going to want me in that way. Besides I’ve long accepted that I’m not even his type. More’s the pity!
He likes giraffes with long necks and longer legs, no breasts to speak of, and a nonexistent ass. I’m short, and thick, at least in the hips and breasts department. I can’t help it I’m Italian. All that lasagna and Chicken Parmesan has stuck to my ass over the years.
So as much as I’d like for him to look at me with something more than brotherly love, I know it’s not destined to be. I’m not blonde either and my brown eyes and Mediterranean tan is no match for his usual fare of blonde hair and pale skin with light blue eyes.
“Where did you go? I can hear you breathing so I know you’re still there, but you zoned out on me. It’s not going to be that bad, the time will probably fly by, and look at it this way. The place is probably surrounded by beautiful country, and you know how much you love that.”
I let her believe that that’s what was bothering me and hurried her off the phone. I was suddenly too miserable to carry on with our conversation. I’d thought getting it off my chest would help but it was even more depressing saying it out loud.
Laying back on the bed again I let my mind wander to when my misery first began. To when my world decided to implode and leave me in absolute turmoil. To when I started weaving fanciful dreams in my head that would never come true in a million years.
In short, I went back to when I stopped looking at Dante as the big brother I never had, and more like the lover I wanted to hold me in his arms and look at me with something more than brotherly annoyance.
It hadn’t happened overnight like I guess most of these things do. It was more like an out of left field type thing. For almost ten years he was just Dante, my Dante. But in the brotherly sense of course.
Then suddenly last summer, like some poorly casted B-movie, things changed. I started noticing him as a man. Started feeling warm tingles in my tummy when we touched, or more embarrassingly, getting wet between my thighs for no other reason than the scent of his cologne, or his smile.
It was bad. And what made it worst was his total and complete obliviousness to the hell I was in. It got so bad I’d break out in a sweat at the mere mention of his name. And for a while there I was petrified of our parents finding out.
It was hard keeping my true feelings under wraps, and I just knew that one day I was going to give myself away if I wasn’t careful. But I had no control over my body’s reaction, or the number he did on my senses.
So, I got into the habit of hiding when he came over, hiding and watching him from afar. Peeping around corners like a stalker bitch with nothing better to do.
I think he’d caught me more than once and of course I’d played it off, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he figured it out if I kept that up. But even knowing that, I couldn’t stop, couldn’t go one day without thinking about him and wanting him, craving him even.