Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
He’s not just the reason.
And it’s not like I think about him constantly.
Fuck, I do think about him constantly. I’ve thought about him constantly for years. He’s been a part of my life my whole life. I want him. I’m scared of wanting him, but I do, and I can’t stop.
He could have died last night. I’ve had a close call too. I know life isn’t forever. People aren’t forever. His mom passed away, and his dad still misses her, I can tell. Then my mom left. She and my dad weren’t forever either. Maybe there’s no right time. Maybe…I’m just so tired of hiding myself from everyone, probably even from me.
I stand up, and the plastic chair gives off a weird squeak and lets out a sucking noise. It’s hot, I’m wearing shorts, and my legs are kind of suction-cupped to it. I slowly pull my T-shirt over my head.
“Garrpppppahhhhh!” Apollo chokes on his saliva.
I’m wearing a sports bra, and it’s less revealing than most bathing suits. Grey and built to keep the ta-tas tucked in tightly while actually doing sports, it’s one of those hugely intimidating bras that look overbuilt and overengineered for just about any body type. My point is that it gives away nothing and covers way more skin than most regular bras.
I turn slowly because the scars don’t start or stop under the bra. They start on my shoulders and go all the way to my butt.
Apollo lets out another gasp, but it’s not one of disgust. It’s one of outrage.
“What happened?” Apollo is on his feet faster than I can turn around. I tug my shirt back on. I’m not self-conscious, but I can see that he’s angry and scared. More scared and also stunned.
This is why I never changed in the changing room with the rest of the girls. I’d go hide in the bathroom stalls. I was always so guarded and paranoid that someone would see. It was silly, but back in school, it felt like a big deal. I didn’t stop caring until my last year, and by then, I was so used to covering up and hiding that it was just second nature to keep doing it.
“I had a really scary moment when I was eleven. I was riding my bike, and this guy…he was just a kid too—he’d just gotten his license—well, he blew through a stop sign. He didn’t see me until he was pretty much on top of me. He did brake, but he hit me…well, mostly my bike, but I was dragged under it. It was so, so scary, but it happened so fast. It was worse after when I looked up and was staring up at the undercarriage of the car. It was actually a truck, which was lucky because there was room for me under it. I wasn’t seriously hurt, but I did have an insanely bad road rash. It was another reason my dad was so protective. He went up another level after my back got peeled like a carrot.”
“That’s not funny, Patience,” Apollo practically growls.
“Sorry. Yeah. Gross.”
“It’s not gross.” Apollo looks murderous again. Dangerous. He looks like he wants to find that kid and rub him on the pavement like cheese on a cheese grater.
“Apollo. It was a long time ago.” I lose my breath at his protectiveness. It’s not weird. It’s not…it’s not out there or suffocating. It just feels like having someone in my corner. Like having my best friend in my corner, but it’s more. He’s hot. He’s hot, and I want him, even though I’m trying not to.
“It left you with the scars. They’re not…you’re…they’re beautiful because they’re part of you, but I can’t imagine the pain or how scary that was. I wish I had known.”
“They’re not beautiful. You don’t have to say that,” I mumble.
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I didn’t mean that they’re beautiful. I wasn’t trying to patronize you. I meant that you’re beautiful. You’re always going to be beautiful.”
My heart pounds harder than it should. I’ve scared him. He’s so pale. “I shouldn’t have said I almost died once. I didn’t. I just had to spend a while in the hospital, and everyone was worried about infection. I didn’t need a skin graft, but everyone’s hopes for me healing without many scars weren’t realized. I guess some people just don’t heal well. My body healed me, but it was messy and bumpy and not clean the way other people’s bodies healed them. Anyway, it still healed well. I didn’t have any problems after the itching, pain, and the whole long process was over, but my skin was never going to be right again.”
“How long?” Apollo asks, his voice rough.
“I can’t really remember. Months? Time seems so different when you’re young. I just remember my dad bringing all my homework to the hospital. He was employed with your dad at the time, and the insurance covered all of it.”