Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 98992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
All the unanswered questions cause me to repeatedly grunt in confusion as I quickly brush my hair back into the high ponytail it was in when I first got home.
On my way for the front door, my father who’s on the couch beside my mother watching some cop show while she reads, stops me. “Where are you going now, jellybean?”
Knowing the fury and disgust they would express if I even mentioned Ry's name in this house after the emotional hell that they’ve done their best to help me get through, I let a little lie effortlessly flop out of my mouth. “Tutoring session. Totally last minute. She only lives a few blocks over.”
Dad casually nods while my mom doesn’t drag her attention away from the book she’s engrossed in, “It’s dark. Need a ride?”
“Nah, it’s not that far.”
“Remember nuts, throat, and eyes…” Dad reminds on an amused grin.
His self-imposed self-defense techniques cause me to snicker, yet the fact they don’t think twice to ask for more information abruptly cuts them off.
Why would there be a need to?
Afterall, I don’t lie to my parents any more than I lie to my friends.
There had never been a need to lie to either before this very moment.
They’ve always been so understanding. Whether it was the need for personal space on a hard day or a request for extra money to spend during a school trip, they’ve always done whatever they’ve needed to to be there for me. And Carmen – while pushy and rather bitchy at times – has, too. Paying for lunches or dinners or shopping sprees I repeatedly decline due to having to work for most of the cash I spend simply so she didn’t have to do those things alone. So she could hang with her best friend.
Or in reality…
Her only real friend.
Something inside of me knows they all eventually forgive me for a couple of little lies, as long as there aren’t too many and as long as I apologize for each one.
It doesn’t take long to get from my house to the park; however, I unconsciously drag my steps.
Use the time to criticize myself for going to meet him like I’m some new in love, lovesick puppy.
And I know I shouldn’t go to him.
I should turn on my flats and march back the way I came, but it’s hard to ignore your soul mate when they need you. When you know there’s a chance that they’re hurting as much as you are, and you’re the only one who can fix it.
I can’t say no to that.
Hell, how does anyone say no to that?
I arrive at the empty park with a guilty conscience. One that nags at me for lying, scolds me for not studying for my math test, and shames me for standing around waiting for him here instead of being at home watching FRIENDS re-runs.
Just as my feet decide to follow my brain instead of my heart, Ry pulls up, parks, and gets out.
My eyes don’t waste a second letting themselves be enslaved by their favorite sight in the entire goddamn world.
His jeans are my favorite light wash pair that hug his hips in the way if he lifts his arms up even a little you can see his expensive black boxers, which he does, giving me a peak of his perfect v cut I miss tracing with my tongue.
It isn’t the only thing I miss licking…
I force my lips to press together to stop from moaning as he pulls down his Mr. Happy shirt, the shirt I bought him last year for his birthday. It wasn’t a fancy gift but still a fairly special one since it was his favorite book when he was a kid.
Is wearing the shirt some sort of white, waving flag or a bright red one?
Not knowing whether I’m being attacked or seduced causes me to fold my arms across my chest as I cautiously approach him. “Hi you.”
“Hey you.”
“Nice shirt.”
Ry smirks widely while leaning against his car door. “Thanks. This really hot chick I know gave it to me for my birthday last year.”
“Really hot, huh?”
“So fuckin’ hot that I get wood anytime I watch her walk by.” His body seems to be summoning mine closer telepathically, so instead of keeping my distance – the wise decision – I arrive right within his reach. He could easily grab me. Hug me. Steal a squeeze of my ass yet unlike the last time we were this close we don’t connect.
No.
We let the brutal war raging between us rage on.
He gives the article of clothing a playful tug. “I love the fuck out of this shirt almost as much as I love her.”
The words manage to melt my heart while simultaneously causing a lump of tears in my throat.
“I never meant to hurt you, Pres. And I’m so fucking sorry about it. And I hate that I did what I did. And I fucking hate that I said what I said. And I really didn’t just wake up one day and say to myself, ‘hey, today’s the day asshole to hurt the love of my life’-”