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)
“Smoke?”
Her addiction to cigarettes thankfully plays in my favor. “Yeah, that I’m interested in doing.”
The two of us slide our way out of our seats, and despite knowing I shouldn’t look again – I mean I just fucking looked – I do.
Maybe I’m becoming addicted to the self-torture.
Addicted to the way it hurts.
Perhaps the pain reminds me that I’m sadly still alive.
That life does move on whether you’re emotionally sane or not.
Time as they say, waits for no one.
All of a sudden, to my surprise, a male voice a few seats up behind them shouts, “Hey, Collins! This isn’t a drive-in movie, man! Save that shit for the hotel!”
Ryder pulls away and chuckles slightly, wiping the spit from the corners of his mouth while looking directly at me.
There’s no shame.
No sadness.
Nothing.
Actually, if I’m being real, he looks as empty inside as I feel.
One blink later the hollowness I swear was there is filled to the brink with the gross, playboy facade he’s recently taken up. The arrogant grin is enough to make my stomach churn, but thankfully, he turns towards the other guy so that I don’t have to see it too long. “Sorry, bro. You know how shit gets. Sometimes you just get carried away…”
“Yeah, but I keep the shit behind closed doors,” he offhandedly brushes him off before leaning to the side to direct his focus to me “Can I holla at you ma?”
Looking around, I curiously point. “Me?”
“Yeah, you, beautiful.”
Beautiful…sounds like such a line but feels so nice to hear.
I can’t stop a small smile from appearing on my face.
The male beaming my direction isn’t someone I recognize off the top of my head. He knows Ryder, which means he’s probably not a transplant or someone tagging along with their friend to a football game that’s not his own. And while Ryder is everything that I’ve ever found hot about a guy – tall, great body, blue eyes that rival the prettiest skies – this guy isn’t too bad. Shorter – which isn’t hard since Ry’s 6’1 -, not nearly the impressive build that my ex-boyfriend possessed thanks to his love of the gym but not terrible. I also like the honey almond skin he’s sporting almost as much as the small accent he’s got.
Is that Cuban?
Dominican?
“So, what do you say, ma?” He playfully waggles his eyebrows. “Can I come down and holla?”
I flash him a flirty smirk attached to a small nod.
The unknown male quickly hops up and starts to move straight for me prompting Ryder to interject, “Careful with that one.” His grip on Bambi unexpectedly disappears altogether for him to tightly fold his hands in front of him. “She’s special.”
“I can see that from here,” the guy states on a wink.
Watching the stranger come towards me is where my focus should be, yet it’s not. It’s still lingering with Ry. Yearning to hear him call me something else because when he says it, I always believe it. God, it’s like his words are magic, and the only ones that can bring my soul back into existence. Just those two have more life pumping through my veins than anything else has since the day he left.
His body shifts forward, leaning towards us, scrutinizing the situation while simultaneously stating his hatred for it louder than the damn whistle they just blew.
The male slyly steps into my view blocking my ex at the same time he asks, “Think I can get a minute or two of yo' time?”
“You can buy me a hot dog.”
“I’ll get you anything you want, ma.”
--
“There’s just something about a sporting event hot dog that is somehow so amazing and so awful at the same time,” I recall, seconds before the taste of garlic from a piece of bread I don’t remember grabbing, overwhelms my overly battered senses. “You can’t find that kind of combo anywhere else.”
An almost sympathetic grin grows on Katherine’s face.
“Speaking of food, can we order dinner now? I’m starving.”
She simply nods and motions her hand towards the menu for me to start looking. Afterward, she casually turns the recording feature off, freeing me from the chest crushing pressure.
No more shrink like questions are asked.
No more unhealthy habits pointed out.
No more dragging me down the abandoned avenue where love thrived somewhere between the depths of depression.
We’re done.
At least…for now.
Chapter 3
Ryder
-“I tried to replace you in various ways, but always failed.”-
With my eyes planted out my locked bedroom window, I irritatedly stare at the blonde woman getting out of the rec pool.
From first glance, so much of the world would consider her fucking perfect. It doesn’t matter that her boobs are a botch job clearly done by an amateur. After the amount of tits that I’ve handled from New York to So Cal, I can now fucking spot the work of a skill-less hack, even through a thick wool sweater. Studying tits kept me from studying project trajectories that weren’t my fucking business to know.