Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
And I want to die.
I want to fucking die.
How many times have I walked away from that offering of more, leaving her disappointed? Christ. My windpipe is being crushed in a vise.
“Did I…lose her?” I choke out.
Harper hesitates. “I don’t know.”
The uncertainty unbalances me more, but the stakes are too high here to lie down and give up. So I stumble blindly for my room and pull the garment bag out of the closet.
8
Jill
I roll over and face the wall, wailing pitifully into my pillow.
Pretty much what I’ve done every night this week, but I can’t help but shed a few extra tears tonight for homecoming. What a magical night it might have been if Zach asked me to go. Although I would be just as happy to share a Coke with him in the school cafeteria at this point. I miss him so much, I can’t eat or sleep. Sure, I’ve been seeing him at school, but it hurts just to be in his presence knowing he doesn’t want me.
My bedroom door opens and I know it’s my mother again, probably leaving a plate of food. I wish she wouldn’t bother, I hate being wasteful and I can’t manage to choke a bite down without bursting into waterworks.
“Mom, I’m still not hungry,” I say, my voice thick with tears.
“Jill,” she says hesitantly. “Get dressed, there’s someone—”
“Get dressed for what?” I pull the fluffy sides of my robe up over my face. And I know I’m being completely dramatic, but my heart is in nine million pieces and I haven’t slept well in a week. I’m delirious and inconsolable and I can’t help it. “He doesn’t want to go with me. He doesn’t even like me! I’m just his sister’s airhead friend.”
“Jill…” my mother prompts again.
“Why does he have to be so beautiful?” I roll over onto my stomach and release a torrent of tears into the pillow. “Why do I have to love him so much? It hurts so bad.”
My bedroom door closes and I cry all the harder for being deserted by my own mother.
Or at least I think she’s deserted me, until my mattress dips under her weight.
It dips a lot, though.
Enough that I roll onto my side and peek out from behind the lapels of my robe…
And there’s Zach, lying on his side next to me.
In a tuxedo.
My breath comes to a standstill inside my lungs. But it’s not the first time I’ve imagined this happening. Zach has never looked at me like this, either. With his heart in his eyes. It’s just my exhausted brain playing tricks on me. “You’re not really here,” I whisper.
“Yes, I am.”
I shake my head.
“Please stop crying, Jilly Beans,” he says hoarsely.
“Can’t.”
“How am I going to take you to homecoming if you don’t stop?”
“You can’t take me because I’m imagining you.”
Zach’s rocky exhale drifts over my face and I frown. That’s definitely the first time one of my fantasies has included sensory features. And I’m still marveling over it when Zach scoots closer on the bed, until we’re right up against each other.
He takes my hand and places it over his heart.
I gasp at the way it flies, seemingly at a thousand beats per minute, slamming up into my palm as if it wants to exit his chest.
He’s here. He’s really in my bedroom. In a tux.
“I’m so sorry, Jill.” His voice catches. “I’m so sorry. Jesus, you just said…you called me beautiful? And said you love me? Please understand. I never, ever could have believed that, Jill. I’ve always known you were out of my league. You are. I’ve known it since we met and…by keeping you at a distance, I think I was protecting myself from too much pain. Living without being yours was painful enough already. And I fucked up. I fucked up. I was hurting you all along, wasn’t I? I’ll never forgive myself for that, baby. I’m not supposed to hurt you.”
This is really happening. He’s really saying these words.
My heart is beating in my throat, the tears in my eyes causing his image to swarm. “I do love you. I meant that. It feels like it’s going to burst out of me all the time.”
His eyelids drift shut. “I’m never going to get used to you saying things like that. God.” His throat works, those green eyes capturing me once again. “If I ever hear you call yourself an airhead again, Jill, I swear to Christ. Don’t talk about the girl I love like that.”
“You love me?” I whisper, a warm tingle racing up my spine.
He turns my hand over, palm up. “You’ve been holding my heart right here all along. Didn’t you feel it bleeding for you?”
“No,” I sob.
A sheen spreads in his eyes. “Do you feel it now?”
Yes. I do feel it. All the walls are down between us and there’s no mystery left. He’s looking at me like I’m the center of his universe and I know I’m looking back at him the same way. There’s a promise in his eyes that this is the beginning of something that doesn’t have an end. “Yes.” I slide my arms around his neck and snuggle into his body. “I feel it.”